Eye for an Eye Page 7

  A few steps from the hotel’s front door a pleasant-looking young man was puzzling over a map of the city. Seeing Robyn he smiled shyly, flicking soft brown hair back from his intelligent grey eyes.

  ‘Hi there, you wouldn’t happen to know how to get to the Science Centre, would you? I seem to have gotten myself kinda lost.’

  ‘I’d love to help you, mate,’ she said regretfully, ‘but I’m a stranger here myself I’m afraid. I wouldn’t know the Science Centre from a bar of soap.’

  Seeing his forlorn expression, she took pity on him. ‘Doesn’t your map tell you? Here, let’s have a look.’

  They bent over the map together, tracing the bus route that would get him from Yonge Street to his destination part-way across town.

  ‘There you go,’ she said cheerfully, ‘it looks like it’s a piece of cake. Just get on the bus up the road here, transfer to that route when you get to that intersection, and Bob’s your uncle.’

  He looked confused.

  ‘You’re there. Everything hunky dory. No problem!’

  His face cleared.

  ‘Ah, right. Thanks, that was really helpful. I’ve always been hopeless with maps.’ He paused, as if a thought had just occurred to him. ‘Look, if you’re in town on vacation too, why don’t you come along? It’s pretty high on the list of tourist activities, once you’ve done the CN Tower and the Eatons Centre.’ He tilted his head appealingly, allowing a lock of the soft brown hair to fall over one eye.

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ she hesitated. He seemed harmless, even rather cute in a nondescript sort of way, but she was very hungry, and at that moment lunch held more attraction than an encounter with a stranger. ‘Actually I was just heading for something to eat.’

  ‘Great!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Let me buy you lunch - it’s the least I can do to thank you for helping me with the map. Where would you like to eat?’

  The words “there’s no such thing as a free lunch” flashed through her mind, but she was too hungry to take any notice.

  ‘Well if you insist - I was just going to grab a burger.’

  ‘Oh I think we can do better than that. There’s a Toby’s round the corner, it’s just as casual but the food’s a whole lot better.’

  He escorted her with surprising sureness to a small busy restaurant where they took the last available table. Once they had placed their orders, he held out his hand and smiled engagingly.

  ‘My name’s Mike. And you are...?’

  ‘Robyn. Good to meet you, Mike. Have you been in Toronto long?’

  ‘Long enough to be confused, I guess. It’s too easy to get lost when you’re used to a small town. Where are you from, Robyn?’

  ‘I’m over here from New Zealand,’ she said proudly. ‘First time out of the country.’

  There was a gleam of interest in his clear grey eyes.

  ‘So,’ he said, leaning forward on the table, ‘what brings you to Toronto? I thought you guys had the whole Pacific paradise to vacation in.’

  She looked into his eyes and felt a brief nudge of recognition, but dismissed it as impossible.

  ‘Well it’s not just a vacation, actually.’ She wondered how much to admit to this friendly stranger, but Mike’s silence and raised eyebrows seemed to demand a fuller explanation. ‘I’ve come to Canada to look for someone as well.’

  ‘Go on, tell me more,’ he encouraged.

  ‘Aw, it’s a long story, and a bit grim. You wouldn’t want to know.’

  Her salad arrived and she forked in a mouthful.

  ‘Aw yuck! Is that what Caesar salad is supposed to taste like? It’s like warm vomit over lettuce!’

  Mike hid a smile. ‘I suppose you could call it an acquired taste. Here, have some of my fries instead if you like.’ He pushed the bowl towards her. ‘So who is it that you’re looking for, Robyn?’

  ‘Oh, nobody you’d know.’ She waved away his question. ‘It’s not important - you’re on holiday, you really wouldn’t want to hear about it. Hey, this steak is terrific, how’s yours?’

  ‘It’s fine. Now come on, tell me who has brought you all the way from New Zealand to Canada - is it a boyfriend?’

  Robyn choked on a mouthful of fries, spraying fragments across the table.

  ‘Oh God, no! That bastard? I don’t think so!’

  ‘So you’re looking for some guy because...?’

  ‘Because he’s a thieving dick-witted low-life who stole from my family, OK? And I do NOT want to talk about it!’ She felt sure she’d said too much already. ‘Now thanks for lunch and everything, it’s been great but I mustn’t take up any more of your sightseeing time. Have fun at the Science Centre.’

  She stood up to leave the table, but Mike reached out and placed his hand firmly over hers.

  ‘I really do want to know, Robyn. Tell me about it, maybe I can help.’

  His voice carried such authority that she sat down again automatically and began, reluctantly, to explain. Mike listened intently as she told her story.

  ‘OK, if you really want to know. Picture this then. There’s a kind, caring man, getting on in years, he’s a farmer in difficult times with very little money available. His wife is very ill and has some serious medical bills. He doesn’t want to worry his two kids, so when he hears of an investment advisor offering generous returns, he empties the farm account and invests it all with him. Things don’t go as well as he’d hoped so he takes out a fair-sized life insurance policy just in case, to protect the farm and his kids if the investments don’t earn enough before he dies. The advisor pockets all the money, along with funds from dozens of other people, and skips the country. The same slimy blond crook is later seen on the news, enjoying a luxury lifestyle while his victims are left penniless. The kind, caring man loses his wife, loses his money, and ends up dead at the bottom of a cliff. The thieving advisor buys himself a nice luxury yacht and sits in the sun, enjoying the high life.’ Her voice grew cold. ‘I plan to make sure his enjoyment stops.’ She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. ‘See? I told you it was a grim story.’

  ‘The kind, caring guy was...?’

  ‘My Dad.’

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded in comprehension. ‘And how do you plan to deal with the crooked investment advisor?’

  Her eyes lit with evil intent. ‘In an ideal world, I’d take a welding torch to his dick and burn it off inch by flaming inch. Then I’d suspend him by his balls until they tore off, and serve them to him on toast. Then I’d take...’

  ‘OK, OK, I get the picture!’ Mike held up his hands. ‘I can see it would be a big mistake to get on the wrong side of you! Now, given that this is the real world and not your ideal one, what exactly have you got planned?’

  ‘Oh I’ve already started!’ She leaned across the table conspiratorially. ‘I painted a purple dick on his head this morning.’

  ‘You did what? How the heck did you manage that?’

  She explained her hairdressing subterfuge while Mike looked at her thoughtfully.

  ‘Well, that was inventive. I wonder how long it’ll take him to find out about it.’ They shared a smile till Mike grew serious again. ‘I can see how that would make you feel better, but what about all the other folk he’s stolen from? Wouldn’t it be better to prove him guilty of fraud and let the law punish him? He wouldn’t enjoy the high life in jail, trust me.’

  ‘Oh sure,’ she said bitterly. ‘If you could prove it, fine. The investigators in New Zealand couldn’t prove a damn thing. He ripped off dozens of people, got all the dough he could lay his filthy hands on and then buggered off overseas and no-one can touch him for it. Insufficient evidence, apparently. The Kiwi cops can’t do a thing. So I came over here to deal out some natural justice myself.’

  ‘Have you thought about the risk?’

  ‘Sure, but I’m damned if I’ll let it stop me! What if he does it again? How many more innocent people are going to lose all their savings if he thinks he can get away with it - if nobody tries to stop him? It jus
t isn’t FAIR!’ She thumped the table in emphasis.

  Other diners’ heads turned and conversations stopped. Robyn held a glass of iced water to her flushed face and breathed deeply.

  ‘Perhaps you need to beat him at his own game?’ suggested Mike, his voice quiet and persuasive. ‘What if you could get close enough to him to collect proof of what he’s doing? If you could get hard evidence that would stand up in court, then he’d lose all his assets here and would probably be deported back to New Zealand to serve his sentence.’

  She brightened. ‘Cool! I like that idea - although he’s probably got more assets squirreled away back in New Zealand that nobody knows about. Still, if he’s in jail that won’t matter, as long as he’s too old to enjoy them when he gets out! And once we get him well-known as a criminal and a con-man it’ll be a hell of a lot harder for him to rip off any more poor suckers, eh?’ She paused, running back through what he’d just said. ‘Hang on a minute, mate. What do you mean, "get close enough to him to collect proof"? You mean get friendly with him and socialise?’ She snorted. ‘What makes you think I’d have a chance of getting close to him without giving the game away? I managed it as a hairdresser, but that was just for a few minutes. Any longer than that and I couldn’t keep up the pretence. He’d know damn well that I hate his guts. There’d be some serious negative vibes going on that I’d have no way of controlling.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to teach you a few acting techniques, won’t we?’ Mike’s grey eyes were alight with enthusiasm.

  She stared at him, baffled.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your concern and all that, but really, what’s this got to do with you?’

  ‘I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.’ He smiled and slid a business card across the table.

  ‘Michael C. Kent, fraud assessor, Toronto.’ She looked up, puzzled. ‘So you’re not here on holiday? Why were you pretending to be a tourist, when you work here?’

  He gave her a few moments to reach her own conclusion.

  ‘What, just to get me to talk to you?’ She eyed him suspiciously. ‘That’s a bit weird isn’t it? Do you usually lie to people you’ve only just met?’

  ‘Well I needed to find out what your connection was to Colwyn Symons before –‘

  ‘You know him?’ she burst in. ‘You’re already investigating him? That’s great! What have you got so far, anything we can arrest him for?’

  ‘No, not yet - although public display of obscenity sounds possible after what you’ve done to him,’ he grinned. ‘No, he covers his tracks very well, and the only way to get evidence would be to get access to some of his files, and I can’t do that without breaking into his apartment. That would make the evidence inadmissible, and besides, once I did that he’d know I was onto him and would just disappear.’

  ‘Hang on, back up a bit.’ Robyn was still confused. ‘How did you know I was connected to Colwyn Symons, anyway?’

  ‘By your T-shirt, actually, the one with his picture on it. I saw you at the marina.’

  ‘Did you?’ She frowned, then shrugged. ‘OK, if you say so. How come you’re investigating him? What tipped you off?’

  ‘He made an insurance claim but something about the case didn’t ring true. The insurance company hired me to find out what really happened. That led to rumours of some investment scams, and now you’ve confirmed it. The question is, are you willing to help nail this guy?’

  ‘I’d nail his pelvis to a cake-stand!’ she growled. ‘OK, what do we do, pose as a rich couple seeking to invest their family fortune?’ She looked him up and down. ‘I suppose you’d be all right as a husband. Decent-looking, pretty smart, no visible flaws. Why not? Let’s do it.’

  He sighed. ‘That’s not quite what we need, eh. When I said you’d need to get close to him, I meant really close. You’d need to get access to his business files, his bank statements, all that sort of thing. So while I’m pleased to pass as your husband, I’m afraid I don’t want you as my wife. You’d have to be his girlfriend.’

  She leapt to her feet. ‘Oh for God’s sake, you must be stark raving bonkers! That prick? I’d have to - ugh, no way! Never in a million years! Look, thanks for a good feed Mike, but no deal. I’ll sort him out my own way. See ya.’

  She left him looking speculatively after her while the waitress cleared their table.

  CHAPTER 4

  Later that day she rang Pete to tell him about the latest developments and Mike’s suggestion. He too was dubious about the wisdom of getting too close to Colwyn Symons.

  ‘You’ve no idea what you’d be getting yourself into, Rob. And how long would all that take? You’re only there for a couple of weeks, aren’t you? How close could you get to him in that time? Surely this Mike character has got someone else he can ask to do it?’

  ‘Yeah, of course he must have - though I bet they wouldn’t be as motivated as I am. You know, it would be a hell of a challenge, wouldn’t it?’ Robyn sounded wistful. ‘It would be cool to beat that bastard Colwyn at his own game and con him into believing I was smitten by him.’

  ‘Fat chance, sis - you’re no actress! You haven’t got a devious bone in your body. There’s no way you could be convincing as a rich guy’s plaything!’

  ‘I could so! Mike was going to teach me some acting stuff - he thought I could do it.’

  ‘Yeah? He must be desperate then! No, give it up, Rob. No Academy awards for you, girl.’

  ‘The hell! I’m going to bloody do it - you just watch! I’ll call you from his apartment in a couple of days, betcha twenty bucks!’

  ‘No! Don’t you dare even think about it!’ Pete’s voice squawked tinnily from the phone as she removed it from her ear. ‘Listen to me, Robyn Mav-’ The rest of her name was lost as she hung up on him. Well, he’d practically dared her, hadn’t he? And she’d never turned down a dare. She fished Mike Kent’s card from her purse and dialled the number.

  ‘Yo, Mike? Robyn Taylor. About your idea for getting to Colwyn Symons. Let’s bust some fraudulent ass. If you’re game to take me on and teach me, I’m all yours.’

  ‘Well done, Robyn!’ His voice was warm and encouraging. ‘I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart. Let’s meet up and discuss some possibilities. Are you free now? Can you find your way to the subway? The nearest station to you is King. Head north to Bloor, change for Bathurst, get off there and walk to Croft Street. I’ll meet you in the Croft St Café in half an hour.’ He sounded so pleased and enthusiastic that Robyn felt her spirits rising already. She wrote down his instructions for finding the meeting place and set off to catch the subway north at King station.

  While standing on the platform, she suddenly smelt a rush of warm metallic air from the dark tunnel and stood well back as the silver train rushed past her. As it slowed, people around her surged forward, pushing their way on board when the doors opened. Disembarking passengers struggled to thread between them, heaving their bags or cases as best they could.

  Robyn found herself a seat just inside the door and looked around with wide eyes. She had seen subway scenes in the movies and on TV plenty of times, but it was a whole different feeling to be there in person. She looked at the overhead maps and read the adverts, then darted quick glances at her fellow passengers. They came in every colour of the human rainbow, black, white, yellow, and a dozen different shades of brown. Snatches of foreign languages drifted past her, along with the scent of many different spices exuded from sweating pores. It was both fascinating and unsettling at the same time.

  When the train stopped at College Station, she turned towards the window and was startled by a fierce face just inches from her own, masked and threatening. Her breathing eased as she realised it was part of an ice hockey mural on the station wall.

  She changed trains at Bloor, switching to the westward line which took her to Bathurst Station. From there it was just a short walk to Croft Street where she found Mike Kent waiting in a quiet coffee shop. He rose from his seat as she came in,
smiling with a warmth that made his grey eyes light up.

  ‘Hey, Robyn, it’s great you could make it. What made you change your mind?’

  ‘You can blame my brother Pete for that. Any time he said I couldn’t do something as a kid, I had to go right out and do it to prove him wrong. When I told him about your idea he said straight away there was no way I could carry it off successfully. So naturally, here I am.’ She eyed him sternly. ‘You’d better be able to pull this off, Mike. Pete’s a world champion at gloating if I get things wrong.’

  Mike chuckled. ‘I have a sister who’s just the same – I know what you’re up against. We’d better get down to business and make sure you can ensnare our golden boy into letting you into his life.’

  She looked down at herself. ‘Well, I think I’ve got all the right equipment to do it.’

  He eyed her judiciously. ‘Ye-es, you have, but it may need a bit of polishing.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Polishing? Whadda ya mean, polishing?’

  ‘Oh hey, no offence Robyn, I just meant that you might need a more sophisticated hair style, some make-up, that kind of thing. If you’re going to move in the sort of social circles that Colwyn Symons does, you’re going to have to look the part, aren’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said gloomily. ‘I’ve always despised dolly-birds, now it seems I’ve got to be one. So, where do we start?’

  ‘Hair, I think. A friend of mine has a salon just around the corner. We’ll go and pay her a visit.’

  ‘Now? Right now? Won’t we need an appointment?’

  ‘No, it’ll be fine. Cherie owes me a favour. Come on, it won’t take long.’

  Robyn allowed herself to be guided into a small salon, where she saw Mike and Cherie exchange glances as he explained what he needed.

  ‘Bit of a challenge, am I?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘No, not at all!’ said Cherie hastily. ‘We’ll just look at a few pictures to choose a style for you, eh?’