Raincoast Noir 02 Vile Spirits by John MacLachlan Gray

Author:John MacLachlan Gray [Gray, John MacLachlan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vancouver, British Columbia, Prohibition, Calvin Hook, Detective, Ku Klux Klan, Racism, Mystery
ISBN: 9781771622783
Publisher: Douglas and McIntyre (2013) Ltd.
Published: 2021-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

The two policemen stop to admire the enormous circular towers on either corner of the building—the unusual vaulted windows and intricately carved trim capped by rounded roofs with nipple-shaped points.

“Sir, why do people call it the Mae West House?”

“I wouldn’t know, Mr Quam. I suppose people find it preferable to the Imperial Palace.”

“The place is a filthy mess,” Quam says, noting the unmown lawn, the unswept floor of the verandah and the railings dappled with pigeon shit.

“Surprising, isn’t it, Constable? Their sheets always seem clean enough.”

Hook lifts the heavy brass ring (tarnished green-grey) and slams it against the door plate, twice. Inside, the crack of metal on metal echoes throughout the house. No response. He slams down the knocker again, several times, until they can hear footsteps on the hardwood floor.

With the slide and click of a deadbolt, the door opens just wide enough to reveal a scraggy fellow in a suit a size too small, from whose cuffs protrude a pair of veined wrists, raw hands and calloused knuckles. Drooping beneath the long nose, a walrus moustache fails to soften the dry, feral face peering at them from under Vaseline hair.

“Yeah? What is it?” A set of ice-grey eyes take in the uniforms: “Oh. Good day, officers. And what kin we do for yuz today?”

“Sir, I am Detective Sergeant Hook of the VPD, and this is Constable Quam. We are making general inquiries about an incident last week. I wonder if we might come inside for a moment.”

“Are y’all expected?”

“We haven’t scheduled an appointment, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, that’s mighty unfortunate. The Impurial Palace is not open to visitors at this time.”

“I gather that. We thought the absence of visitors might make this a good time for a casual chat.”

“This is private property. Do y’all have a warrant?”

“We’re not undergoing a search, sir. Just a friendly chat.”

“We thought we’d drop in while we were in the neighbourhood,” Quam adds, unnecessarily.

The door doesn’t widen, and its occupant doesn’t move. “Either way, you can’t come in, suh. I got orders of Major Forrest.”

“Actually, it’s Mr Forrest we’d like to speak to, sir,” Quam says.

“Mr Forrest has always been very supportive of the police,” adds Hook.

A pair of frown lines appear above the bridge of a hawk nose. He draws back slightly, scratching his chin with two ragged fingernails. “Maybe so, but—”

A second face appears in the doorway, equally feral but clean shaven and with a scar beneath the left eye. His suit is a better fit, marred only by the heavy object in the side pocket of his coat.

“What’s this about, Gainer?”

“Jessup, these two policemen here want to speak to Major Forrest.”

“The Grand Goblin would be pleased to speak to you gentlemen, but that ain’t possible at this time. Major Forrest has an injury. He is confined to bed.”

“What sort of injury, sir? Nothing serious, I hope.”

“An accident on the stairs. Took a fall, hit his head and cut himself. The doc says bedrest should see him out.”

“Good to hear it, sir.

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