He cut the call.
I looked at Callum. “Yes? No?”
“Fuck. Do it.”
“Now or tomorrow?”
He waved at my phone. “Go for it.”
I called the number Vic had given me and put my phone on speaker. A rich, female voice answered, “Valencia.”
“This is Officer Evans of the Vancouver PD.”
“I figured. Vic gave me your contacts. What’s up?”
“I have a friend who is a professional sports player, and they are being combo blackmailed and paid into throwing a game for gambling purposes. They want to stay safe, and to see the bastards taken down. Vic suggested you might point us in the right direction.”
“Okay, I’m interested, but I need more info.”
I glanced at Callum. “Can we meet up? It’s not my story to tell.”
“Next week?—”
Callum cut in, “I’m supposed to throw the game on Sunday.”
“Ah. Hello. Who are you?”
For just a second, Callum’s frantic gaze met mine. I tried to give back my confidence in him, and in justice, however shaken the latter might be lately. He said, “Callum Fitzpatrick. Goalie for the Surrey Foxes.”
“Goalie, huh? I can see the appeal for a sports bettor.”
“Right?” he said bitterly. “I’m between a rock and a hard place and I… need help.” He flicked another glance my way, his mouth pressed in a thin line as if that had been hard to say.
“Okay.” She paused. “There’s a pub in East Van called Smokey’s. Evans, you know it?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t explicitly a police hangout, but was one of the places cops could go to unwind, with a mellow atmosphere.
“I’ll be in a grey SUV parked in their lot in about an hour. The SUV has a‘my border collie is smarter than your honour student’ bumper sticker. Park a couple of spaces over, come and join me. Both of you. I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“We’ll be there,” I told her. “Thank you.”
When she’d rung off, Callum paced a few steps. “An hour. So about five-thirty.”
“We have time,” I said. “It’s maybe a thirty-minute drive, tops. Let me text Sully that we’re going out. Want to eat something first?”
“I can’t eat.” Callum pressed his hand to his stomach. “What if they don’t believe me?”
“I’ll back you up. If they get a subpoena, they’ll see it wasn’t you at the ATM.”
“If they bother. What if my little drama’s too small-time for them? What if?—”
“Hey.” I reached for him. “No borrowing trouble, okay? You took the first step. You’re opening a case. Whatever happens later, you’re covering your ass so the team will know it’s not your fault.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“C’mere,” I coaxed. “I haven’t kissed you in four days and we have half an hour to kill.”
He moved into my arms, but said, “I’m not up for sex. Sadly. Never thought I’d say that.”
