Page 33 of The Woodcarver's Model
“Your agent.”
Rob took the phone.
“Hello,Estelle.”
Mitch burst out laughing. “It’s a woman?”
Rob stifled his laughter as he playfully slapped him. “Shh.”
“Sorry, Estelle. One of the neighbourhood kids was acting up. Now, what news do you have for me?”
“It’s not good, Robert. They aren’t going away. Someone is trying to implicate you in a shooting. It seems they don’t take kindly to murders of citizens by rich foreign nationals.”
“Rich foreign nationals?”
Mitch sat and stared at Rob, trying to pick up on what was happening.
“I think some local warlord is just looking for a pay-out,” Rob answered in a lighter tone.
“It’s not just the Somalis that are turning up the heat. It’s our side. In case you haven’t noticed, Canada’s looking for a seat on the UN Security Council. It’s been in all the papers. Probably even some out where you are. The Feds are none too happy with publicity like this.” Estelle went into a coughing fit before continuing. “You’ve gotta get in touch with the Mounties right away and find out exactly what they want to know.”
“Of course, you’re right. You wouldn’t happen to have an address for me?”
“Me not be one step ahead of you? You insult me. The guy trying to reach you is a Marc Robichaud from the RCMP Liaison Office. They said he works with the IOB, whatever that is. The nearest RCMP detachment is just over on Gabriola Island. 525 South Road. There’ll be signs on the highway, if they have highways out there. In the meantime, I called your lawyers and don’t argue about it. It’s in your contract with your book publisher.”
“Thanks for all this, Estelle. I’ll pay them a visit tomorrow and I’ll give the lawyers a call when I find out more. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”
Rob hung up the phone. Mitch was watching him, reading the lines in his face.
“Are you okay?” Mitch asked.
“Oh, hell yeah. Don’t worry about it.”
“Talk of lawyers tends to lead me to worry.”
“Lawyers are just a precaution. My publisher feels better if they can hide behind a wall of them.” Rob smiled, trying to take the edge off the situation.
Mitch looked concerned. “Why would they want to hide?”
“There are parts of the world where people make a living trying to get money out of tourists. Even crazy ones like me. Look, Estelle wants me to go and talk to a guy tomorrow. He’s just over on Gabriola, so that’s easy.”
“The lawyer?”
Rob had to think fast. The last thing he wanted was for Mitch to think he was involved in a murder case. It was a short step from that to smuggling and drug cartels, given he was a guy who spent his life travelling. Not what someone like Mitch would be looking for in a husband.Husband?
“Lawyers are multi-armed beasts with tentacles everywhere,” he said, running his hands over Mitch’s chest. “I’ll get the guy to fill me in on what these assholes want and we can figure out the best tactic to take.”
“Has this ever happened to you before?”
“All the time. I had a guy once—he was my bodyguard, if you can believe it—he held my camera, passport and notes hostage until I agreed to pay for his kid’s tuition. I just about shit myself until I found out it was for a local school and amounted to about eighty dollars.” They laughed and Rob felt calmer letting Mitch believe the little lie he had told.
“Let’s finish our dessert and head off to bed,” Rob said. Then he whispered into Mitch’s ear, “I’ll show you a trick I know that Eric will never have a chance to see.”
Chapter Twelve
Rob headed out first thing in the morning. He was greatly relieved when he found out that, as much as Mitch wanted to come with him for support, he had to attend an emergency island rate-payers meeting—something about a developer—and he needed to be there for quorum. Rob promised to call him from his cell phone as soon as he was heading back. Apparently, the fine citizens of Gabriola Island hadn’t heldtheircell-tower technicians hostage.
He made it just in time to catch the ferry. Frances waved him on board along with a truck full of chickens. She was friendlier towards him than last time.
