by Ted Wood
I looked at him, trying to seem cunning. “There's a lot of guys ahead of me in seniority here.”
“But not in experience,” he said. “You'd be my first choice.”
I grinned. “That would be great.”
He nodded. “There's only one thing to look out for.”
“What's that?”
“Corruption,” he said. I widened my eyes a little and he nodded. “Oh yeah, it happens. We had one guy, we fired him. He was shaking down the hookers, or trying to. They come into town on the fifteenth and the last day of the month—paydays. They park their Winnebagos and go to work.”
“It's the same in a lot of bush towns.”
He nodded dismissively. “It happens. If you don't let the single guys get laid a couple times a month they'd be out screwing schoolkids. I don't like it, but I turn a blind eye to it. I just make sure there's no slimebag in a red hat taking a cut off their earnings. And then this so-called officer of the law tried his shakedown. I had him out of here by morning. He was lucky not to go to jail.”
“Sonofabitch,” I said musingly. “He must've been crazy as well as bent.”
Harding nodded. “So, as your superior, and, in a way, as a friend, I want to warn you about Berger at the Headframe.”
“He tries to set guys up?”
“Some of them,” he said. “He tried it on Constable Scott and he's tried it on you.”
“But not the others? Why us?”
Harding shrugged. He was a good-looking guy for his age, around fifty-five, good lean face, a typical Rotarian. Butter would not have melted in his mouth. “I don't understand the man. I'm just giving you the facts. He's trouble, and I suggest you stay away from him. No going into the place except off duty, during business hours. No more drinks in the office. It's for your own good. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” I could see what he was doing. He wanted me neutralized. My honesty that morning had made him more suspicious. He was warning me off the track.
“Okay. I just wanted to have a talk with you, explain how things stood.” He got up. “So that's it. Keep your nose clean and you're looking at a good future in Elliot.”
“I'll do my best, chief.” He turned away and I said, “Oh, just one thing, sir.”
“What's that?” He was frowning as he turned around.
“My dog. He can cool out a fight faster than a couple of men can do it. He can run a suspect down. He can track. He's trained and he's docile, but he's a real authority. I'd very much like your permission to take him with me on patrol.”
He tightened his frown up a notch, thoughtfully. “I don't want anybody coming to me with a complaint about being bitten,” he said.
“He never bites. If somebody tries to fight he holds onto their hand. If they've got a weapon he grabs that hand. Just clamps on it, doesn't sink his teeth in.”
Suddenly he grinned. “Why not?” he said. “I've already spoken to Sgt. Ferris, but in light of our conversation here, I'll bring him up to date in the morning. Yes. Use the goddamn dog. Now I'm going home.”
“Thanks, chief. Good night.”
He left and I sat thinking about what he had said. It seemed to back up the story I'd been sent here to investigate, that he was corrupt. If it was true, he was being careful. I was from outside, and he knew now that I was straight. Maybe he already suspected I was a plant. That's why he was stringing me along, offering the faint chance of a promotion as a way of appearing pleased with what I'd done. But he would be more careful than ever in his dealings now. I would have to be extra cautious.
It was quiet in the station. There wasn't so much as a phone call until three o'clock. Levesque didn't bother calling in. For all I knew he was in bed somewhere. But he returned on time, grumpy and tired. “Why's the chief givin’ you the easy job? You're new.”
“Wanted to see I could do it right, I guess.”
He swore, then grinned. “Not your fault, eh?”
“It's a tough job but somebody's gotta do it.” I matched his grin. “How'd it go? Any trouble at the hotel?”
“Nothin'. When I come in there a couple guys ask where's the dog. I t'ink dat dog a’ yours do a good job.”
He left and I set the phone-radio connection and went out in the car, taking Sam with me. The town was settling into a Sunday night. By this time everything was closed and the lights were out. There was a party going on, in one of the bungalows. Cars lined the curb and the rock music was audible from the roadway, but nobody was complaining. I made a note of the address and drove on around town, then out to the mine site and back, still wondering how to make my next move.
The answer came to me as I got back to the party scene. It was after four by now and the people were going home, trickling out, a couple at a time. They were saying noisy farewells at the door and a lot of them looked the worse for wear, so I parked the police car at the end of the block where they could see it. It was a simple drunk test. If they were sober enough to recognize that I was watching and drive carefully, they were sober enough to drive. You couldn't do that in a city, but here nobody had more than a few blocks to go and they were the only things moving.
I recognized one of the couples. It was the Wilcox family. Randy was pretty drunk. His wife was trying to persuade him to give her the keys but he was refusing. I waited until he got into the driver's seat then drove up nose to nose with him and flicked my headlights to high beam. I could see him squinching up his face at the brightness, trying to work out what it was.
He sat there, and I got out and opened his door. “Hey,” he said and tried to close it.
“Out of the car, Randy. Jean, you take over.”
“She ain’ gonna drive,” he said, but his voice was dull. His wife was in no danger of another beating tonight.
“Yes, she is.” I had hold of his wrist and I squeezed until I had his full attention. Like a lot of drunks, he was smartening up now he was in trouble.
“I want to talk to you,” I said.
“What about?” His voice was less slurred, he was concentrating hard.
“I'll tell you. You be at the hockey arena at four this afternoon. Got that?”
“What for?”
“Just be there. Otherwise I'm going to have to give you a Breathalyzer test and you're going to lose your license.”
“When'dja say?” He bent forward like an old man, putting all his concentration into hearing me.
“Four o'clock this afternoon. Be there.”
“At the ‘rena. ‘kay.” He nodded at me and I kept my grip on his wrist, pulling him out of his seat and around his car to put him in the passenger seat. I fastened his seat belt and leaned down to speak to his wife. “Drive carefully, okay?”
“Sure will.” She sounded bright and cheerful. Maybe Sgt. Ferris's old-fashioned message had gotten through to her husband. Randy was keeping his fists off her. Good. I shut his door and went back to the police car. Jean backed up neatly and slipped around me, driving quietly away. Now all I had to hope was that Randy would remember my message when he sobered up.
SEVEN
Fred and I walked up to the arena around three that afternoon. Fred had a couple of plays with her and she wanted to show Jacques her choice and get his opinion. Like a lot of other people in the recreation business, he worked just about every day. He was single, Fred had told me, and he had nothing more exciting to do.
We went into his office and they were soon deep in conversation. I excused myself and strolled out to stand by the glass wall that overlooked the ice surface. There was a hockey game in progress, and one of the teams was being coached by Scott. The kids were around fourteen. One or two of them were very good, but I noticed Scott gave each one of them equal ice time even though his side was down one goal. It pleased me. The more I saw of Scott the more I liked the way he did things.
He was too busy to notice me, so I opened the door and sauntered in, catching him bending over the boards, bellowing at one of his defensemen. “Keep on him! Check him!”
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He looked around and saw me. He grinned and waved then turned back to his kids. One of them got a penalty, and Scott roared as loudly as any fan at the ref, then turned to me. “He should have skated harder. Then he wouldn't have had to hook him from behind.”
It was pleasant to be there in the chill of the rink, and I watched until the end of the period. When Scott went into the dressing room to chew out his team, I went out to the coffee machine. It was quarter to four. Randy Wilcox came in with his wife.
He said something to her and she left, nodding pleasantly to me but getting lost. There was a volleyball game going on in the gym and she went in to watch.
“You wanted to see me.” He was uptight. He looked hung over but there was no booze on his breath.
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about the accident.”
He looked around, nervously. “Here?” I noticed that he didn't ask which accident. He knew what I was talking about.
“Why not?”
“Somebody might hear.”
“Let's go sit in the stands.” I shoved the door open and we went out to sit high up in the seats, behind the few supporters, who were all sitting front and center.
I handed him my untouched coffee. “Here, I don't really need this.”
“Okay, thanks.” He took it and cracked the lid, dropping it casually underfoot. He sipped and said, “What's this about? I told the sergeant everything I seen the night it happened.”
“I'd like you to go over it for me, okay?”
“What for?” He didn't look at me as he spoke, and I knew I was onto something important.
I just smiled at him.
He gave in and asked, “You been talking to the sergeant?”
“No. I just heard you were there, that's all. And your wife mentioned it that night.”
“None of her goddamn business,” he said angrily.
“She said it turned you into a mean mother,” I said. “As a cop, I don't like mean mothers. I want to know what happened. If you're in any kind of trouble, maybe we can sort it out, let you take life easy again.”
“Why'd you wanna do that?”
“I've been a cop a long time. I figure it's better to have friends than enemies. Okay?”
He said nothing for almost a moment. The teams came out again and started to play. I saw Scott glance up at me once then turn back to his coaching.
“Yeah, well I was there. I was comin’ back from seein’ my dad. He lives out by the old mill, you know.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw the other vehicle coming after me in the wrong lane. I hit the shoulder an’ it swerved back an’ then missed the curve an’ hit the rock on the side of the road.”
I knew he was lying. Ordinary citizens don't say vehicle, they say car or truck. He had been coached in his story, by a policeman.
“Bullroar,” I said, and he turned and stared at me.
“'Makes you say that?” He was scared, not angry.
“That's not what you saw. Is it? Come on Randy. I wasn't born yesterday. Somebody told you to say that.”
“No, that's what happened.” He shook his head then buried his nose in the coffee cup. His hand was trembling.
“I heard that Lewicki was dry. Hadn't had a drink in years.”
“Well, he fell offa wagon that night, I guess.”
“Did he? Or did somebody push him off?”
“It wasn't me,” he blurted, then checked himself.
“But you saw who it was?”
“I don't know,” he said miserably.
“Then what did you see?” I kept my tone conversational, not threatening him. I figured he'd had his fill of threats.
“I seen the cop car at the top of the hill. An’ then I went by I seen Gus's car there as well.”
“And that's all you saw?”
He shook his head again. “No.”
“What else? Come on Randy, this is eating the guts out of you. Get it out.”
“I seen Sgt. Ferris there, like beside Gus's car. The light was on in the car, like the door was open. An’ I saw him holdin’ up a bottle. I couldn't see what he was doin'. Not prop'ly. Looked like he was tippin’ it was all.”
“Then what?”
He folded both hands around his coffee. “Well I'd had a couple beers with my ol’ man, right. So I din't stop. I went on down the hill an’ then I seen a car comin’ down after me. Like it was Gus's car. I foun’ that out later. Right then I just hit the gas an’ got outta the way. It was barrelin'. Then I heard the bang behind me when he hit. But I din't stop. I wen’ right home.”
“Then what happened?”
He looked at me. “Listen. I gotta know why you wanna hear all this. Like, this was a while back.”
“It's not going any further. Let's just say I'm a nosy sonofabitch, okay?”
“I never told anybody,” he said. His breath was gusty but there was no booze on it. He was sober, and he was telling the truth.
“I can guess,” I said. “You got a call from the sergeant. He said you'd been drinking and he was going to lock you up for impaired driving, right?”
His eyes widened. “He told you?”
“You made a deal with him. You reported the accident and he let you go, am I right?”
He nodded respectfully. “That's the God's honest truth, off'cer.”
“Okay, thanks. That's all I needed to know. I owe you one. Do yourself a favor, forget the whole thing, okay. There won't be any drunk driving charge.”
“There won't?”
“No, it's too late now. But keep your nose clean. Stay out of the hotel a bit more. Spend more time at home.”
“Yeah.” He frowned at me, as if he suspected I had a thing for his wife. “Yeah, my dad's been sayin’ the same thing.”
“Listen to him. He knows what he's talking about.”
“Okay.” He switched hands with his coffee and stuck out his right. I shook it. His hand was like leather. “Thanks,” he said. “I think I'll go see what the wife's doin'.”
“Good idea.” I grinned at him and he left, not looking back.
I stayed where I was until the game finished. Scott's guys had tied but they couldn't score the clincher. I went down as he was seeing the last of them off the ice.
“Good game. When are they playing again?”
“Tuesday night, here—a league game. Against the Olympia Titans. Eight o'clock.”
“I'll be here. It was a good game.”
The last of his boys clunked past on his blades and Scott looked at me intently. “What was Wilcox on about?”
“Seems like I made myself a friend the other night,” I said lightly. “When the sergeant let him go he thought it was on account of me. Wanted to thank me.”
“I've known him for fifteen years,” Scott said doubtfully. “He never spoke to a cop before unless he was in trouble.”
“How many times has he thought he was going inside?” I laughed but I was careful. Scott was a good guy but he didn't have to be involved.
“Well, I guess there's a first time for everything,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I've got to talk to my guys. See you.”
He walked away into the dressing room and I went back out to the office and checked on Fred. Jacques was on his feet, acting out a part from the play. He was putting everything into it, but even I could see how hammy he was. When he saw me he closed the book. “Yeah, I could do that,” he said to Fred. “I'd like to.”
“Great. That just leaves three more men to find.” She was all business. “Do you think we'll get that many at the class?”
“None signed up so far,” he said. “Maybe you can round up your husband.”
It was a joke and we all laughed and they broke up their meeting. Fred held my arm as we walked back alone on the street as the few lights came on. It had begun to snow lightly, and she stuck out her tongue to catch a flake. “Delicious,” she said. “Like the thought of having you at home tonight for a change.”
“I'm glad
you're taking to the place.” I squeezed my arm down on hers. “Tomorrow we're going on an outing.”
“Where to?” she asked in surprise.
“Thunder Bay. You'll like it after this place. It's a big town.”
“Hey,” she tugged at my arm. “Would that mean staying over in some motel?”
“It could, if you played your cards right,” I said and she laughed. A car passed us, driving slowly through the swirling snow.
My real reason for leaving town was to get a chance to call Kennedy in Toronto. This had been his idea. He wasn't sure how secure any phone in Elliot would be. So we drove to Thunder Bay and I made my call and filled him in. Then I went with Fred while she shopped and we had dinner and went to the theater. It was good to be able to relax for twenty-four hours. The following morning we drove home, stopping off for lunch along the way. We got back around three in the afternoon, and I took Sam for a run. It was difficult, running on the snow, but I went out to the highway and put in three miles before coming home. I was hot and pleasurably tired but Fred's face brought me back to reality. She was looking horrified.
“What's up? Bad news?” I asked.
“Terrible,” she said. “Mrs. Schuka came up while you were out. She says there was a cave-in at the mine. A miner was trapped and they just got his body out this afternoon.”
“Someone you knew?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. But that doesn't matter. They're all such good square people. I feel terrible.” She paused. “Maybe you knew him. You've met more of the men than I have. His name was Wilcox.”
I was heading for the shower but I stopped in my tracks. “Randy Wilcox?”
“Yes, I think that's what she said.” Fred frowned. “Did you know him?”
“I had the pleasure of locking him up for beating his wife,” I said. “But he was a reasonable guy aside from that one time. It's a pity.”
She looked at me almost coldly. “You take this kind of news very casually, Reid. Is it because you're a cop?”
I didn't want her to know what I was thinking. If someone had arranged Wilcox's accident they might have the same thing in line for me. She didn't need to know that.
