Jack Taggart Mysteries 8-Book Bundle. Don Easton
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chain lay on the porch. The chain led down the steps and was wrapped around a tree in front of a large doghouse. Two empty aluminum dog dishes lay upside down in the dirt. Both had holes chewed through the rims. The remnants of Jack’s pants were hanging out of the doghouse.
“This is a good omen,” whispered Danny. “We’ve already found your pants.”
“Wonderful. Next week is Halloween. I’ll go dressed as dog food.”
Danny heard the door open and saw Jack step inside.
“Christ, you’re fast! You’re going to have to teach me someday,” said Danny in amazement.
“Thanks. But it wasn’t locked.”
Danny glanced at the dog collar. “I can see why.”
They started their search in the three bedrooms upstairs. The furnishings in two of the bedrooms consisted only of dirty mattresses lying on the floor. There was a dresser in the main bedroom, and Jack searched through the drawers. Danny spotted a shotgun leaning against the wall and carefully picked it up.
“Loaded?” asked Jack.
Danny nodded, putting the shotgun down.
It was an hour and a half later when they finished their search. They found a few telephone numbers in a kitchen drawer, but again, none were for outside the city.
“Well, at least we tried,” said Jack. “Let’s get out of here before the sun comes up. We’ve still got to return the dog.”
“Yeah. Hope he leaves on his own so I don’t have to coax ’im out,” replied Danny, feeling apprehensive.
Outside the house, Danny watched as Jack retrieved his pants from the doghouse, then got down on his knees and shone his flashlight inside.
“Do you see your shoe?”
“What’s left of it.” Jack reached inside and pulled out a badly mangled ankle boot.
Danny was about to go, but Jack stayed kneeling, staring at the doghouse.
“You coming?” whispered Danny.
“This floor is thick.”
Danny shrugged. “Just insulated to keep the poor little puppy off the ground.”
“They’d do that for the mutt but not bother to leave it any food or water while they go away for a couple of days?”
Jack moved his flashlight beam across the floor of the doghouse. It was covered with short, dark green outdoor carpeting, which was glued down, except along one wall where it had been cut slightly too large to fit the floor.
He pulled back the carpet to reveal a plywood floor. A small grubby knothole was visible in the plywood. He stuck his finger in the knothole and pulled. The floor of the doghouse lifted like a page in a book.
A compartment underneath held a brown leather case. He carefully lifted it out and undid the zipper, shining his light inside.
“Well?” asked Danny breathlessly.
“Take a look,” said Jack, holding the case open.
Danny looked in and saw some handguns, stacks of money held together by elastic bands, and a large brown envelope.
“Look at all the cash,” said Jack. “These are thousand-dollar bills!”
“Yet he still has dirty mattresses on the floor in two of the bedrooms?”
“Guess you can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear. Come on, let’s go back inside and take a better look. There’s a downstairs washroom without any windows. We can close the door and turn on the light.”
Danny noticed the sky was beginning to lighten but didn’t say anything as he followed Jack into the house.
Jack carefully pulled the contents of the leather case out onto the floor. There were three .22-calibre handguns.
“Do you think these have been used?”
Jack shook his head as he picked up the brown envelope. “I doubt it. Our friend said they throw them away after each hit.”
“Pass me those bundles. I’ll start counting. Let’s see how much he’s got.”
Jack didn’t respond as he stared into the brown envelope. His face became mottled.
“Jack? … Jack? What is it?”
Jack silently passed Danny the envelope.
It was stuffed with newspaper clippings. For a moment, Danny didn’t understand, until he saw the bold lettering of one caption: GRISLY MURDER OF TWO CHILDREN — Discovered by mother…
Danny pulled the newspaper clippings from the envelope. Most of the clippings were about the children’s murder. One clipping was different. It was about another murder that had taken place three days ago. The article said: Bobby Singh, a 29-year-old man who police believe was involved in the drug trade, was found shot to death in his home Wednesday night by relatives who…”
Jack pointed his finger beside the man’s name. Someone had written “2” in ink.
“Look at Ben Junior’s name,” said Jack.
Danny flipped back the pages and looked. Beside Ben Junior’s name, someone had written “1” in ink.
“Rolly murdered Ben Junior,” said Jack. “He’s even keeping score! Bobby Singh was his second victim. He didn’t put a number beside Maggie’s name. Probably because Wizard killed her.”
“We can’t be sure,” replied Danny.
“Can’t we? Then you give me another explanation for it!” yelled Jack.
“How can you be sure it was Wizard?”
“He’s the one who vouched for Rolly’s tattoo! And he already has the Dirty Dog tattoo. That’s what Maggie was drawing when she was killed.”
“It still doesn’t confirm he killed her.”
“You’re saying you don’t think he did it?” asked Jack incredulously.
“I didn’t say that, but it would never stand up in court.”
“Court! What the hell does court have to do with anything? None of this will stand up! We can’t use this! We don’t even have grounds for a search warrant! Who’s talking about court?”
“So what do we do then?” asked Danny, his voice cracking. “Do you set yourself up as judge, jury, and executioner? What if it wasn’t Wizard? Okay, I’ll admit Rolly had a hand in it, but what if it wasn’t Wizard? It’s just … could you live with there being any doubt as to who did kill Maggie? Wondering if a third person was there, maybe another dealer, and Wizard only saw what happened.”
Jack didn’t respond for a moment. He sat on the floor, breathing like he had run a marathon. Eventually his breathing returned to normal. “Okay,” he said. “You want more proof? I’ll get it for you!”
The sound of birds chirping outside told Danny that now was not the time to ask how.
Jack picked up one of the handguns and walked out of the bathroom and over to a plant in the living room. He looked back at Danny. “Are you going to help?”
Danny looked down at the remaining two guns. This is wrong. Everything I’m doing is wrong.
“Forget it, I’ll do it myself,” said Jack, plunging the barrel of the gun into the dirt.
chapter twenty-six
It was daybreak when Jack pulled alongside Danny’s car in the office parking lot.
“So we take tonight off? That’s what you said.”
Jack