Flights and Falls by R. M. Greenaway

Author:R. M. Greenaway [Greenaway, R. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2019-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

THE GHOST AND MRS. VLUG

December 23

DION WAITED IN THE Doorway to Bosko’s office for Sean Urbanski to finish whatever he was telling the sergeant. “Money,” Urbanski said. “There was more of it kicking around than Tan told us about.”

Bosko looked up from what he was doing. To Dion, Bosko was a data machine who could shift seamlessly between cases, as if a gas station holdup in Deep Cove was on the same continuum as a suspicious drowning in the Seymour River and a counterfeit report from the Holiday Inn. But he didn’t seem to be shifting along the continuum now; he’d had his full attention on whatever he’d been reading, and now he looked thrown by Urbanski’s words. Disoriented. Not a machine after all.

“Amelia Foster and Tiffany Tan,” Urbanski reminded him. “They put fifty percent down on a used camper van. A Westfalia. They made two monthly installments on the van before Foster died, and now Tan can’t keep up the payments, so the deal’s been rescinded. So I’d say the funds were coming from Foster. Tan gets a return of most of the money and the dealer gets the Westfalia back.” He handed over documents. “Bill of sale. Loan agreement.”

“Quite a bargain for a Westfalia,” Bosko said, reading.

“It needed work,” Urbanski said. “Still, it’s big bucks for these girls. I asked Tan where the money came from and she said it was a gift from her dad. I asked her dad. He says the most money he ever gave her was fifty bucks on her sixteenth birthday.”

“You’d better talk to her again.”

“Dave’s sending somebody to pick her up.”

“Good, thanks.” Bosko went back to his report and Urbanski turned to leave, then turned back again for a last word. “Boss, I hope you haven’t made New Year’s plans yet. Come on over to our place for the countdown. Come early and join us for dinner. Ky has a whole stack of T-bones, and I do believe one of ’em has your name on it.”

Bosko gave a thumbs-up but went about declining the invitation. “I’d love to, Sean. Except New Year’s Day is also dim sum day. Long story, but kind of a tradition I’ve held with a friend from my last posting. I can’t possibly break it.”

“Some other time, then.”

“Some other time.”

“You, too,” Urbanski told Dion as he brushed past, more an order than an offer. “New Year’s, my place, be there.”

He was gone, and Dion stepped into the office. “Everyone’s busy,” he said, “so I’ve been sent over with the update you were asking for.”

“Great. Fire away.”

“JD’s been going through traffic reports for the Sea to Sky, and here’s what she’s got.” Dion delivered the news in batches, challenging himself to avoid looking at his notebook for as long as possible between refreshers. It wasn’t the most exciting memory game, but it had become habitual.

“On January fourteenth of this year,” he began, “three people in a van went off the road in the same area where Amelia Foster crashed. Lost control, hit the barriers, and flipped into the sea.

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