Serpents Rising. David A. Poulsen
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let me see your ID.”
Cobb pulled out his wallet, stepped forward with it. I fished in my pocket, found mine, and extracted a driver’s licence and Press Club membership. It wasn’t great but I hoped it might convince her. I started forward.
“Hold it,” the sharpness of her voice echoed off the building. “Only one of you.” She pointed at me. “You, the little one, you bring the ID for both of you.”
Cobb handed me his PI card. I guessed he was trying not to smile. The little one.
I stepped forward and extended my arm in order to keep some distance between us, handed her the IDs. She held them so that she could examine them in the light, then passed them back to me.
“Come on,” she said and turned and went into the building.
We followed. No one spoke as we retraced our path back up the stairs to the last place we’d been in. When we got to her door I said, “You want me to go get the light bulb?”
“I’ve got light. Wait here.” She went inside, closing the door behind her. She was gone long enough that I looked questioningly at Cobb. He stared straight ahead, waiting. More patient than I was.
The door opened. Zoe stepped back, made a motion with her hand that seemed to indicate we should come inside. Cobb went in first and I followed him.
She was right. She had light. Candles, eight or ten at least, in various shapes and lengths, were lit, giving the room a very different feel from when we’d been in it before. She’d even pushed a few things around. Tidied a little.
She closed the door behind us, directed us to a lawn chair that hadn’t been set up before, and a board set across two piles of magazines. Cobb let me have the chair, he sat carefully on the board. She sat on the floor opposite us.
“So you are Zoe.”
She nodded.
“What’s your last name, Zoe?”
“Tario.”
“Thanks for talking to us.”
“I can get you some water.”
Cobb declined and I started to but thought better of it. In some strange way, I felt that this street girl was doing her best to be hospitable and that water was probably all she had to offer us.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’d appreciate a water.”
She got up, reached behind her for a plastic jug of water, poured some into a glass that may or may not have been clean. She handed me the water with a flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
“I hope you like cold water.” She shook the glass and I could hear bits of ice hitting the sides.
“Cold’s my favourite.” I said.
Another flicker, then she sat back down and looked at Cobb. “Why should I help you guys?”
“Because you’d be helping Jay,” Cobb said. “It’s like we said before, there are some other people who might be looking for him. If they are, it’s imperative that we find him before they do.”
“Who are these people?”
“We’re not sure.”
“Pretty vague.”
“I wish I could give you more definitive answers but I can’t. You’re going to have to trust us.”
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that in my life? From my favourite uncle who was a pedophile to my first boyfriend who turned out to be violent to the two cops who arrested me for shoplifting and offered me some interesting ways to avoid being charged to … there’s more, but I’m sure you get the picture. So, bottom line, I don’t have to trust you.”
Cobb glanced over at me. I could see he was thinking about how much he’d tell her. He nodded. “Two drug trade guys were killed last night. A house over in Ramsay. Crack dealers … they were shot.”
Zoe looked thoughtful, nodded slowly. “I heard something about it on the news. There was a radio playing at a shelter I stopped at to get some blankets.”
Blankets. That explained the garbage bag.
“It’s going to be bloody cold tonight,” I said. I shook my water glass to remind her just how cold. “Why didn’t you just stay at the shelter?”
“I like it here.”
When neither Cobb nor I responded she added, “I sort of wanted to be here in case … someone comes here.”
“Jay?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. Turned instead to Cobb. “What’s the shooting have to do with Jay?”
“Maybe nothing,” Cobb looked down at the floor for maybe a millisecond then back up at Zoe, his decision made. “The guy who shot those two men was Jay’s father. He’s worried that the guys who are higher up the food chain might want revenge for a couple of their guys getting snuffed.”
“So why wouldn’t they want to get their revenge on Jay’s father?”
“They will want that. But if they’re not successful, or even if they are, Mr. Blevins is concerned that they might want to go farther. If he’s right, then Jay could become a target. Or maybe already is.”
Zoe didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. She seemed to be digesting the information.
Cobb let her think about it for a while. “Do you happen to know that house? It’s on Raleigh Avenue.”
Zoe pulled a cigarette out of her jacket pocket, not a pack, one lone cigarette. She lit it from one of the candles, took a drag, blew smoke above our heads. “I know it.”
“You a user, Zoe?”
She shook her head. “Was. I’ve been clean for almost four months. Went through a program and got off it … for now. I guess we’ll see.”
I appreciated her honesty. None of the “I’ve never used” or “I’ve beaten the thing for life” that you hear from a lot of users.
“What do you know about the house?” Cobb asked her.
“Not a lot. Jay bought there quite often. He took me with him twice. I hated the place. Real creepy guys. I remember one was called Stick. Real tall. The first time I went there with Jay, that asshole, Stick, offered to show me why he had that particular nickname. Total jerkoff.”
Blevins had told Cobb one of the guys was very tall. Maybe Stick was one of the victims.
“Who else was there, do you remember?”
“The first time it was only Stick and two kids who looked junior high school age making a buy. The second time, it was like Walmart on Saturday night — people everywhere. Stick was there and another guy was doing the selling and distributing. I didn’t pay much attention to who was in there, mostly I wanted to get out and gone as fast as we could. After that time I told Jay I wouldn’t go there anymore. He said he’d buy for me — that was when I was still using.”
“Crack … that what they sold there?”
“Crack, ecstasy, blow, lots of other stuff. One stop shopping.”
Cobb nodded and leaned forward. “Jay ever say anything about the people who sold out of that house? Like who they worked for?”
“No. I even asked him once. He said he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Just as long he could get what he needed he didn’t care if Stephen Harper owned the place.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s not him,” Cobb said, smiling.
Zoe didn’t return the smile.
“Listen, Zoe, we don’t know who runs that place either and we don’t know if it’s the same people