There was definitely something happening behind my back.
I should have protested. I was on duty. I had every right to not go for a walk. Whatever they had to discuss they could do so with me. But I decided against it. I was now infamous for ruining the drug squad investigation and I sensed Detective Longfoot had recognized me.
I walked east, not knowing where else to go.
Scarborough is very multicultural. There are a lot of ethnic stores. I passed by a Sri Lankan clothing store. A barber shop-with Chinese barbers. An electronic shop…looked like owned by East Indians. A bubble-tea store, probably owned…hey, it was the same one I wanted to try out with Detective Terries.
I leaned on the window and took a peek. The interior looked cozy.
Martin was in the basement of the BUBBLE T SHOP. The heavy metal door to the entrance of the basement was secured and locked. Only he and Ms. Zee had keys.
Martin was not happy. The pill-making machines were sitting idle. After a lengthy meeting with Ms. Zee it was decided capsules were the direction they would go.
According to the initial plan they would have been producing thousands of pills each and every hour.
He circled the machines, scooping the dust with his finger. So many hidden meetings, so many bribes, so many lies went into acquiring these machines. Now, they sat with no use. Maybe he could sell them, but to whom?
Martin found a chair and sat down.
He adjusted his tie. He had come to the conclusion that Ms. Zee would never have Nex. She was paying him well, and she trusted him, but that wouldn’t last very long. Once the money ran out she’d turn on him-just like she did on Armand. That fool!
They were all fools for believing him.
Martin sighed. He had also believed Armand. His shoulders slumped. He had to find a way out. This bubble-tea venture was his idea. It was only to serve as a disguise for the production of Nex. Several others would be up and running in a matter of weeks.
Once money ran out, Kong would have his head.
I entered the shop. The place was dim. Tables and chairs lined the middle with couches and other seating to the side. There were a few people sitting and talking. Music piped from the corners of the walls. A friendly and welcoming atmosphere, if I may say so.
I headed straight toward an Asian girl.
“Hi, welcome to the BUBBLE T SHOP. My name is Susan. How may I help you?” she said with a pierced tongue.
“Um, yes,” I smiled, looking intently at the menu on the wall behind her. There were so many names I didn’t recognize.
“What would you like?” she said.
“No clue.”
“First time at a bubble-tea cafe?”
“Yes, what is bubble tea anyways?” I inquired.
“It’s simply tea mixed with tapioca pearls. We have it in several flavors: passion fruit, strawberry, mango, taro, honeydew, kiwi.”
“I’ll take strawberry, please,” I said, not wanting her to recite the entire menu.
“Okay.”
I went and sat in the corner facing the doors.
A few minutes later the girl placed a tall glass with a straw on the table. I looked at it. It was sort of pinkish. I took a sip and waited. Then took another sip.
Martin gently shut and locked the metal door and went upstairs. He moved passed Susan and stopped. Sitting in the corner was someone he recognized, sipping a strawberry tea. Yes. He was a police officer.
John Rupert or something along that line was his name. Their informant in the police force had provided names of all the members of Operation Anti-RACE. What was Rupret doing here? Inspecting the premises, perhaps.
There must have been a leak. Someone must have tipped the police. They were after him. No. Stop. He controlled his composure. It was just a coincidence he was here.
Martin took a deep breath. This was absurd. He shouldn’t be acting like this. He was a lawyer, a reputable business advisor. Not a criminal.
Martin relaxed, but tensed up again when, in the distance, he saw Kong get out of his car and approach the shop.
He knew the police had a picture of Kong. If this police officer saw Kong, their cover might be blown.
He had to do something, but what?
This tea wasn’t half bad. I sipped. I was glad I had come here. I could finally relax and chill out.
There were a few more customers in the place now. A man in a suit stood behind the counter, staring at me.
Once he realized I saw him, he smiled and began walking toward me. I turned around but there was a wall behind me. I was cornered.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” I replied.
“Is this your first time at the BUBBLE T SHOP?” he said.
“Um…yes,” I said.
“Oh, forgive my rudeness, I’m the owner of this shop,” the man said. He was standing very close. “How do you like our establishment?” He had a wide smile.
“Nice. Good tea,” I held the half glass of strawberry tea in the air.
“We want all our customers to be fully satisfied. If there is anything you don’t find to your liking you just let us know and we’ll do everything to have it corrected.”
“Thank you,” I said. It’s good that these days businesses aim to please their customers.
“What do you think of the wallpaper?” he pointed behind me.
I wasn’t sure what he wanted but I turned, “Very nice.”
“Do you think the colour is pleasing?”
It was brown.
“Um…I think so.”
“Have a closer look.”
He was very keen on my answer. “Yes…now that I have…um…a better look, I think it’s good. But it could be a little…darker.”
“Darker? Oh, dear.” He looked heartbroken.
“No-no, just a little. Overall it still gives the place a cozy…touchy…feely…” I was searching for more words. “Touchy, friendly feeling.”
“I’m glad,” he said, wiping at his forehead. “This is my first venture and I want it to be a success.”
“I understand,” I said, raising my hand in protest. “I’m more than happy to provide my insight.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking around, more relieved.
I’m always glad to help those in need.
“The next time you come back,” the man said. “Anything you like will be complimentary-on the house.”
“Hey, thanks. Sure, I’ll come back. Many times.”
At that moment my phone went off. It was Beadsworth.
I thanked the owner and left.
Martin’s shoulders sagged when the officer was out of the premises. He adjusted his tie. During the entire ordeal he had been sweating profusely. He felt wet and sticky.
He barged to the back and confronted Kong, who was standing with his huge arms folded.
“What are you doing here?” Martin snapped.
Kong did not answer.
“That was a police officer. We could have been shut down. For all we know there could be a surveillance van waiting outside recording our every move-recording you entering here.”
There was no reaction. Kong stared back.
Martin adjusted his tie once more and smoothed his coat. It was useless talking to him. If he wanted anything done he would have to talk to Ms. Zee.
Beadsworth was sitting alone when I got into the passenger seat.
“Done with your private conversation?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“Come on,” I snapped. “I see what’s going on.”
He turned to me. “What is going on?” he said.
“Stuff…secret stuff. Stuff you don’t want me to know.”
“Officer Rupret, let me just say, things were happening before you arrived. These things may continue to happen even after you leave.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“Precisely, and I prefer it be kept that way.”
I was ready to say something when he said, “Constable Terries and Detective Nemdharry are in Niagara Falls.”
“Niagara Falls?”
“The U-Haul briefly stopped in Hamilton and moved onto Niagara Falls.”
Something occurred to me. “Could Nex be made there,” I pointed to the building across. “And then distributed in Niagara Falls?”
“Maybe.”
Something else occurred to me. “From Niagara Falls it might then be passed through the border and into the States.”
He thought about it and his face went grave.
I was going to say more when another car drove up and parked right beside us.
“We’re being relieved,” Beadsworth said.
I entered my house and headed straight for my apartment. I was halfway up when the ground-floor door opened and my landlady popped her head out.
“Jonny?” she said.
“Yes,” I said, then realized I was supposed to have dinner with her. “Am I too late?”
She had a gentle smile. She handed me a white container. “I left some mechado for you. I know you’re very busy.”
I thanked her and went upstairs.
I opened my door, walked down the hall, and placed the container in the microwave. I walked back and stopped, “Sorry, Mike. I missed you, too.” I’m proud to say that Michael Jordan never got angry with me.
I pulled out Elizabeth Taylor’s Black Pearls and wrapped it in a flowered wrapping paper.
I leaned back on the sofa with the container of mechado in my hand and began watching the fourth quarter of the basketball game.