Free Dead Ends by Don Easton Page B

get a description from anyone in the neighbourhood about what these other two look like. Nobody had anything of value. Talked to neighbours, delivery people … nothing.”
    â€œWhat about the winos?” asked Laura. “If they were hanging around they might have seen people coming and going.”
    â€œAlready tried,” replied Connie. “I identified seventeen and we located all but three so far.”
    â€œPretty good, considering most of them are homeless,” noted Laura.
    â€œTell me about it,” continued Connie. “I found one who was asked to leave by Father Brown. He said Father Brown was a nice guy and wasn’t mean about it. I think the wino, as much as his soggy, drunken brain would allow, did his best to help. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even remember what day or even what week he had been there. He only knew it was Father Brown in the photo because of the small birthmark on his forehead. He never saw anyone else connected to the house except when a kid came out and threw some garbage in the can.”
    â€œProbably Noah,” said Jack.
    â€œYou used to have an informant in the Satans Wrath,” said Connie, as she looked up and tossed the pen down. “Can’t you get another one? Or maybe talk to whoever used to help you?”
    â€œThat person repaid the debt owed to me. His loyalties are back with the club. All we would be doing is exposing our interest in Varrick. As far as getting an informant goes, it is rare to get one in the club. Our chances of getting one in The Brotherhood would be good, providing we can find someone connected with Varrick that could help us.”
    â€œSo we keep doing what we’re doing?” asked Connie. “I feel like we’re spinning our wheels and going nowhere.”
    â€œIf the bikers were going to cut Varrick loose, they would have already done so. They plan on using him, but are being unusually cautious.”
    â€œHope you’re right.”
    The morning of April 1 arrived and Jack and Laura were on surveillance at Headstones. When Varrick left in the usual black pickup, he started driving aimlessly around some of the side streets in White Rock.
    â€œHe’s doing heat checks!” said Laura.
    â€œSomething’s up,” replied Jack. “See if anyone is around to help us. No use following him around in the residential area, we’ll only get burned. If he doesn’t come out, we can start a search later to see where he’s parked. Let’s set up on 152nd Street. That’s the usual route for him to take if he’s heading out. See if anyone is available to give us a hand. Get them to set up on 148th and 16th Avenue, as well.”
    Laura grabbed the police radio and a marked police unit pretended to work radar while watching for Varrick’s truck.
    Twenty minutes later, Jack and Laura saw Varrick driving northbound on 152nd Street and they followed. Minutes later, a couple more cars from Drug Section answered the call for assistance and joined in on the surveillance. They weren’t needed. Varrick believed he had cleansed himself of any possible police surveillance and drove directly to a small strip mall in Port Coquitlam. He parked his truck and got in the passenger side of a white van. The surveillance team followed the van as it left the mall.
    Jack radioed in the licence plate and the registered owner turned out to be a young woman who did not have a criminal record and lived in a house in Abbotsford.
    â€œAnyone get a look at the driver?” asked Jack, as he drove several cars behind in traffic.
    â€œTen-four,” replied a female voice. “Late twenties, bull-dog neck, bald, and wearing a gold fertility horn around his neck. Thought those things went out in the seventies,” she muttered.
    Jack smiled and said, “Is that you, Tina?”
    â€œTen-four.”
    â€œI owe you one. You just turned a cold investigation into a hot