East Coast
by
John McFetridge
Copyright 2010 by John McFetridge
Smashwords Edition
Bangor, Maine
They called it the New England States-Maritime Provinces Narcotics Officers Drinking Club, a couple hundred cops taking over the entire Days Inn off the I-95 just outside Bangor for the weekend. By Saturday night they had a barbeque set up by the pool, the no glass rule was long gone and the saunas were co-ed. Music blasted, country mostly, a little R’n’B when the Fed from Boston got near the system.
The idea was an informal exchange of information. Rumours, innuendo, which dealers were on their way up, who was bringing in larger shipments, who was the biggest pain in the ass, who was most likely to get killed. All that stuff that couldn’t go in official reports, stuff that wouldn’t ever see the inside of a courtroom but stuff that would be good if the cops on both sides of the world’s longest unprotected border were aware.
In room 202 Staff Sergeant Jerry Northup, the highest ranking RCMP officer on the trip, laid his cards on the table and said, “Even in Canada we call that a full house.”
“You got a lot of time up there to play cards, don’t you?”
Northup pulled in the chips and winked at Sherriff Cousins from Worcester, saying, “Oh yeah, you know us, we’ve got no crime we just sit around in our igloos practicing moose calls and playing poker.”
“You’re in my backyard now.”
Jerry said, you know it, and dealt another hand. The room’s bed had been pushed out into the hall to make room for the table brought up from the restaurant, six cops sitting around it, maybe a thousand bucks would change hands. It was all in fun.
One floor down a naked Constable Evelyn Edwards was on top of a DEA guy from Portland, Maine, both of them very close, and her phone started beeping and the DEA guy said, “Whoa, you’re not going to answer that,” and she said, yeah, I have to, “I’m on duty.”
“You’re five hundred miles out of your jurisdiction, you’re in another God damn country.”
She was beside the bed then pulling her phone out of her jeans in the pile of clothes on the floor saying, we couldn’t all get the weekend off, then into the phone, “Edwards... Yes, un-huh, wow, really?” She shook her head and the DEA guy knew they weren’t going to finish any time soon.
Edwards pulled on her sweatshirt and jeans and took off barefoot out of the room saying she’d be back and the DEA guy saw her bra and panties on the floor beside her running shoes and thought, hey, maybe they would finish.
In the poker room Sherriff Cousins was raking a pot, a big one, saying he knew his luck was going change when Edwards walked in out of breath, all the guys looking at her messed up hair and she said, “Sergeant Northup,” and Jerry said, “Hey Ev, you looking to lose some money?”
“No sir, it’s about, it’s Superintendent Bergeron.”
Jerry looked at his cards and said, Henry? What now, “Did he lock himself out of the office again?”
Cousins laughed like he knew all about that kind of boss and Edwards said, no sir.
“He died, sir.”
Jerry leaned back in his chair and looked at her. Shit.
Party’s over.
Moncton, New Brunswick
Sgt. Jerry Northup was standing in font of the dresser in his bedroom putting on his funeral tie. He’d worn it less than a month ago but that funeral was for the eighty-seven year old father of a friend, next door neighbour really, Ray, nice enough guy he barely knew. When Jerry and his wife bought the house in the sub-division five years ago, Jerry told Isobel it would be nice and anonymous, now that he was a detective and didn’t wear a uniform none of the neighbours would ever have to know he was a cop and she’d rolled her eyes at him and he’d said, what? But while they were unloading the truck Ray comes over with a beer in each hand and says, so, can you fix speeding tickets?
Now it was Henry Bergeron’s funeral and Isobel was coming out of the shower wrapped in a towel saying, “His blood alcohol was three times the limit,” and Jerry said he’d be shocked if it was any less than that.
She said, “Kovalchuck said he won’t put that in his report.”
“The least he can do after all those times Henry took care of him.”
Isobel said, “Will it make any difference if he puts it down as ‘Fell asleep while driving,’ as if anyone will think he was sober.”
“He was sober, he had a couple of beers, that’s all.”
“He had a bottle of scotch in his lap.”
Jerry pulled his tie tight, perfect knot, and said, hey, “We’re lucky he didn’t have a cheerleader in his lap.”
Isobel came over to the dresser wearing a nice black dress and looked at Jerry in the mirror and said, “He was a good guy wasn’t he,” and Jerry said, yeah, he was, “Taught me everything I know.”
“Honey, you passed him by years ago, you’ve been teaching him, carrying him. He was the boss in name only and now I guess you’ll really be the boss.”
That surprised him and he said, run the whole narcotics division, “Not at my rank, they’ll bring someone in from out of province,” and Isobel said, you sure, and Jerry said, yeah, “They’ll have to, unless they promote me,” and she stared right at him and he said, “Not gonna happen.”
She said she didn’t care one way or the other, but, “You deserve it,” and Jerry said, “What did Clint Eastwood say? Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” and she said, “Now do we have to watch Unforgiven again,” and he said, “Have to?”
He was pulling on his suit jacket then, his funeral suit jacket, and Isobel said, “Did you at least get something at your big cross-border drunk,” and Jerry said, yeah.
“Edwards got something from a DEA guy.”
And Isobel said, “Tell her we can treat it anonymously at the clinic.”
“Nurse Isobel, thanks. Did I ever mention a guy, Mickey Goodwin, busted him selling pot in the playground?”
“He have an older sister Melody, I went to school with her.”
“I think that’s his mother, was she pregnant then?”
“She dropped out, junior year, could’ve been.”
“Mickey’s trying to move up. We knew he was moving a little coke and some meth but we thought he was buying it from the bikers in Montreal.”
“And he’s not?”
“Well, he is, but here’s the thing, this DEA guy tells Edwards he’s seen little Mickey Goodwin down in Maine, buying from some Colombians they’re watching but he wasn’t buying enough to make it worthwhile for them to go after him.”
“So now you’re little information exchange is working and you can pick him up.”
“Better than that, we can threaten to tell the Saints in Montreal what he’s doing, scare the shit out of him, get him to work for us and go after bigger fish.”
Isobel looked at her husband and said, wow, “I don’t know if that’s clever or slimy,” and Jerry said, hey, “Always we remember, we’re the good guys.”
And walking out of the bedroom Isobel said, “You’ll have to remind me once in a while.”
Portland, Maine
They watched the guy park his beat up minivan in the lot of the Union Station mall and Michaels said, “Canada’s Ocean Playground, that’s your boy all right,” and Dawson didn’t say anything, watching the guy walk away from the Dollar Store and out through the lot towards the street.
Michaels drove slow, a row over, saying, “This must be some hot cop, got you all the way out here on your day off,” watching the guy walk out to St. John Street and Dawson took a few more pictures and said, “This is international relations, we’re talking about co-operating with law enforcement over the world’s longest unprotected border.”
Michaels said, sure we are, “I just hope this one’s not married,” and Dawson said, “I had no idea that chick was married,” and they both watched the guy walk across St. John Street and into Spot Shot Billiards, between a Thai restaurant and the Al-Amin Halaal Market and Dawson said, “Okay, that’s all we need.”
“You don’t want to get him coming out, you’ve got nothing? You can’t get a warrant with that, it’s not even enough to get a wire tap approved.”
“No, I don’t want to spook the local boys, we’re still looking at following them up the chain to Boston, this isn’t really for anything official.”
“Is it for something could come back and bite us in the ass?”
Dawson said, “Don’t you worry about it, you were never here,” and Michaels said, you got that right.
Moncton, New Brunswick
The Loose Moose was packed, every cop in the city, even the ones on duty, and a lot of their friends.
Alphonse Turcotte was standing on the little stage by the karaoke machine with the microphone in his hand, saying, he was the boss, sure, “But he knew every single man and woman who worked for him, knew every one of them like a friend,” and people murmured agreement and nodded and Alphonse said, “because each and every one bailed him out of some kind of trouble,” and every body laughed.
Jerry and Isobel were sitting at a table by off to the side by themselves. It’d been a good funeral, but everybody was anxious to get here, the place where Henry spent so much time and where they could say what they really felt about him, how much they liked him, warts and all.
Alphonse was looking around the room saying, “Who wasn’t working an overnight, didn’t get a call from some woman, come and get your boss?”
Everybody laughed and Alphonse pointed at Jerry and said, “Remember Northup over there, drove around this whole province, an entire eight hour shift looking for the rest stop Henry called him from, some chick kicked him out of the car? Oh yeah, we all went through that shit with Henry.”
Oh yeah, everybody in the bar with their own memories.
“And the truth is,” Alphonse said, “we’ll never get that lucky again. The next boss we get will expect us to do some work,” and the place filled with people saying, no way, and, work, what’s that, and I’d like to see him try.
And Isobel looked at Jerry and said, “Are you going to be a tough boss,” and Jerry said, “I told you, I’m only going to be the boss until they send in someone else,” but he could see Isobel didn’t believe him and he wasn’t sure how she felt about that, maybe she wanted him to be a little more ambitious.
He said, anyway, “Come on, let’s hope not. Imagine if we both have to work overtime? All that pressure, the kids and everything. No, I like it where I am,” and she said, “Where you were, and there’s no going back.”
Jerry looked at her, thinking about it for the first time, that he might actually get the promotion and not knowing how he’d really feel about it. Could be good, but it would be a big change.
And then before he could say anything, Evelyn Edwards was at their table saying, “Sgt. Northup, Mrs. Northup,” and Isobel said, “Doesn’t everyone call you Jerry,” and he said,
“See, I’ll never be a real boss.”
Then he looked at Edwards and she said, “So, um, yeah, I heard from Agent Dawson, the DEA guy, and I guess our guy’s on his way, he should be at the border in a few hours.”
“Then I guess you better get down there and meet him.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you and Leonetti, go tell him.”
Edwards said, yes, sir and rushed off looking very happy about it and Isobel looked at Jerry and said, “You’re going to like being the boss,” and he said, “I’m not going to be the boss.”
And they looked at each other and neither one was sure.
Calais, Maine – St. Stephen, New Brunswick Border Crossing
Leonetti was sitting behind the wheel of the unmarked car, an Impala of all things, watching a line of cars making their way across the Milltown International Bridge over the St. Croix river.
In the passenger seat Edwards was talking quietly on the phone, saying, “Bangor’s not half way, it’s not even halfway to the border and then I have to drive all the way from Moncton.”
The Impala was parked across the street from the customs offices in the parking lot of a Tim Hortons and, of course, Leonetti and Edwards were drinking coffee and eating Timbits.
Leonetti said, “Is that him,” and Edwards looked up at the line of cars and then said into phone, “Dodge Caravan, sort of brown?” Then she looked at Leonetti and said, “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Looks like he’s getting into the longest line.”
Edwards was still one the phone with the DEA agent who’d put the GPS on the minivan in Portland, making her date to get together with him.
Leonetti said, “I wonder if he has a favourite customs agent these days,” and looked sideways at Edwards who was turned away from him now and cupping the phone by her ear, whispering, and he leaned close to her and said, “He’s got some money these days.”
She glanced at him and then whispered into the phone and then ended the call.
“Okay, here he comes, that was quick.”
Leonetti said, yeah, “We’ll look into the customs officer later,” and then followed Mickey Goodwin in his sort of brown Dodge Caravan through St. Stephens and onto Highway One towards Saint John and about fifteen minutes later pulled up beside him and Edwards showed him her badge.
Mickey pulled off on the shoulder of the two lane highway and said, “I wasn’t speeding,” and Edwards said, “I don’t care, pull into that motel right there,” and Mickey said, “What for,” and she said, “Just do it.”
Then she said to Leonetti, “What a moron,” and he said, “Who did you expect to be trying to pull an end run around the Saints, bringing dope into their territory.”
Forty-five minutes later Leonetti opened the door of room #7 and let Sgt. Northup in, saying, “Hey boss.”
Jerry looked at him sideways and then saw Edwards whisper into her phone and end the call.
Mickey was sitting on the end of the bed watching TV and Jerry walked over saying, “Look at you, you’re all grown up,” and turned it off.
Mickey said, hey, “I was watching that,” and Jerry punched him in the face, knocking him off the bed, blood pouring out of his mouth. Then while Mickey was rolling around on the floor, Jerry walked to the bathroom and came back with a towel and dropped it on him.
Edwards hadn’t moved, sitting there with her mouth open, shocked, looking from Leonetti to Jerry and back.
Then Jerry said, “So, Mickey, on your way back from Portland with a kilo of coke you bought off a guy named Glen in a pool hall. Did you know he bought it off a guy named Hector in Malden, Massachusetts?”
Mickey was still on the floor, holding the blood-soaked towel to his face and Jerry kicked him in the stomach and said, “Well, did you?”
Mickey moved further away, a few inches anywhere, there wasn’t much room in the motel room and Jerry said, “No you don’t know shit, do you. Maybe we should rip your van apart, that might be fun. You didn’t just leave the coke on the seat, did you?”
Mickey said, no, but he didn’t say where it was.
Jerry said, So, “We could pick you up for that,” and he looked at Edwards and said, “What would he get for that?”
“Possession with intent to traffic, looking at five to ten at least.”
“Ten years, wow, punk like you, Mickey, you’ll come out wearing a dress, thinking you are a chick you’ll have been screwed so many times. I wonder how long it’ll take you to like it?”
Mickey said, screw you, but his heart really wasn’t in it.
Jerry said, “Some of those guys, those lifers, they might knock your crooked teeth out, make it easier for you to go down on them,” and Mickey just sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed holding the towel to his face.
“Or, you know what,” Jerry said, looking at Edwards and Leonetti and then back at Mickey, “maybe we’ll wait till you drive back up to Montreal and buy another kilo there, bust you with that one.” Then Jerry looked at Edwards and said, “Would he get any more time for that one,” and she said, maybe, “If he still had them both.”
“Or, if we didn’t want to waste time on a trial, maybe we could just tell the guys in Montreal know that they aren’t your only supplier. They don’t care about that, do they, they aren’t territorial, are they? They don’t think they’re exclusive, do they?”
Mickey said, “You got nothing, you got no proof,” and Jerry crouched low and looked him right in the ye and said, “Mickey, we’ve got video, we could put it on YouTube.”
“Screw you.”
“There’s no way out for you.”
“Screw you, I’ll do the five.”
“Yeah, it’ll feel like fifty, getting your ass pounded everyday. You get out, you won’t have anything, you’ll be broke, what’ll you do? No one’ll sell you anything, you tried to double-cross the Saints and you got caught way too easy.”
“So why don’t you just bust me?”
“Not good enough, you got yourself in too deep. There’s only one way out now.”
“What’s that?”
“Somebody bigger than you.”
Mickey looked around the room, saw Edwards and Leonetti looking at him like they felt sorry for him and he said, “No way.”
“We'll even front you a little money. Tell the boys in Montreal you can buy four, five kilos a month. Hell, you’ve been moving two, it’s not such a big stretch.”
“I’m not a rat.”
“You get a little higher up in the organization, you feed us enough info and you’ll walk. You might even get enough money to go out to Alberta, get yourself set up with a real job.”
Mickey looked interested, probably more about going to Alberta than a real job and Jerry said, “Or you could head out west and try dealing coke there, we don’t care.”
Mickey said, “No way, there’s no way,” and Jerry said, yeah there is, “It’s the only way.”
Then Jerry stood up and looked at Edwards and then Leonetti and said, “I don’t know, he’s probably too stupid to pull this off, let’s just let the boys in Montreal know what he’s doing, let them take care of him.”
Leonetti said, “Cheaper for us,” and Edwards said, “Would get rid of a dealer in our territory.”
Jerry looked at Mickey and said, “You think you could pull this off?”
“I set these guys up, you’re just going to screw is up anyway.”
“Then what do you care? You’re just going to try and double-cross us, aren’t you?”
Mickey said, no way, and Jerry started walking to towards the door, saying, “Oh yeah, this has success written all over it.” He stopped and looked back at the motel room, Leonetti and Edwards looking so young and eager and Mickey Goodwin sitting on the floor holding the bloody towel to his face and Jerry said, “Okay, set him up, you two are going to run him,” and walked out the door.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Northup Home
Isobel was in the kitchen, pouring milk on cereal for Herbie and Sam was spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast when Jerry walked in and said, “Can you do the pick-ups today,” and Isobel said, “Good morning.”
She was dressed in her nurse’s uniform, a little morning sun coming in through the kitchen window and she turned and looked at Jerry and he said, “I’m sorry, but it looks like I’m going to be late tonight,” and she said, “You were late last night.”
Isobel put the cereal bowl on the table in front of Herbie and he started eating right away, spilling Lucky Charms all over the table. Six years old and he still couldn’t get the spoon into his mouth.
Jerry said, “Can you do the pick ups?”
“I don’t know, I’m on call tonight, I guess if nothing comes in I can get away.”
“Can your mother pick them up?”
“I don’t know, I’ll have to call her.”
Susie walked into the kitchen and Isobel said, “Honey, you’re not dressed,” and Susie, ten years old and standing there in her underwear said, “My red dress isn’t there.”
“You wear that dress every day, it’s in the wash today, you have to wear something else.”
Susie turned and walked out of the kitchen and Isobel looked at Jerry and was about to say something when Sam said, “Aren’t there any juice boxes,” and Jerry said, “Just what you see.”
Isobel said, “So, you are going to be doing all the extra work, all the extra hours, whether they promote you or not,” and Jerry said, “The work has to get done.”
And she said, yeah, of course, looking at him like she knows he’ll do it and not say anything at work, no matter what happens at home, and he said, “It’s just like at first, when you took over the emergency room, Doc Kovalchuck dragged his feet for a year before he finally officially made you head of the department, but you did all the work.”
“So there is a chance you’ll get promoted?”
Jerry said, “I don’t see it happening,” and Isobel said, okay, and looked at him for a minute and then called, “Susie, are you ready?” Then she said, “Herbie, put the bowl in the sink.”
And Jerry said, “We did fall asleep at the wheel a little with Bergeron and the bad guys did get out in front. We’ll be playing catch-up for a while.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“No, not really, but, you know.”
They looked at each other and, yeah, they both knew.
And then Sam said, “Susie, what up?”
Isobel said, “Oh Susie, come on, really?” And the naked Susie said, “My dress isn’t in the hamper, I can’t find it anywhere,” and Isobel was already dragging her out of the kitchen saying back over her shoulder, “Can you take Sam and Herbie and I’ll get this one there as soon as I can.”
Sam looked at his father and said, “So, where’s my lunch, lunch bag’s empty,” and Jerry said, “Forage the parking lot, graze the soccer field, come on,” and scooped up Herbie and they were out the door.
Moncton , New Brunswick – RCMP Offices
Constable Evelyn Edwards was sitting at her desk in the open concept bull pen talking on the phone, saying, un-huh, okay, right, and then she hung up.
Jerry came out of his office, one of the few along the outside walls, and Edwards said, “He’s meeting his supplier today,” and Jerry said, “In Montreal,” and Edwards said, no, “Just outside Edmunston.”
“Tell him now that he’s becoming such a good customer he’s got to meet the big boys in Montreal.”
Edwards said she’d tell him, but, “He’s not going to wear a wire.”
Jerry said, “Not yet, but he will,” and Edwards said, yeah, as she was getting up and walking out the door.
Jerry watched her go and then saw Ralph Whitney, another narco cop sitting at his desk poking at his computer and Jerry walked over and said, “Hey Whitney, aren’t you supposed to be watching that fisherman, Clark?” and Whitney said, yeah, “But he didn’t come home last night,” and Jerry said, “So where do you think he is?”
Whitney never looked up from the computer, just said, “Could be anywhere.”
Jerry looked around the room like he couldn’t believe it and saw Alphonse Turcotte coming in and motioned toward Whitney. Turcotte just rolled his eyes and Jerry said, “So how about you go find him,” and Whitney sat there for a minute, thinking about it, before he stood up and said, “Yeah, I guess I can think of a couple places he might be,” and walked out of the office.
Jerry stood there watching him go and Al came over and said, “What do you expect,” and Jerry said, “More than that.”
Al nodded, rocked on his heels a little. He was older than Jerry and he’d found his comfort level running the office, not bothered seeing guys get promoted past him if they knew what they were doing. He said, “You sure?”
Jerry said, “How bad has it been here,” and Al said, “We’ve been making plenty of arrests,” and Jerry said, yeah, sure, “Street dealers, bottom rung guys, nickel and dime crap.”
“That’s our job.”
“We’re not keeping up. We should be going after bigger guys, wholesalers, importers. What was the biggest shipment we busted in the last five years?”
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
“Come on, we’re so far behind we’ll never catch up.”
Al said, look, “You’re a good copper, Jerry, but you have to play the game.”
“Yeah, that’s what Henry did best, wasn’t it, play the game.”
“The politics are important, you have no idea what he kept us out of.” And he looked right at Jerry and said, “What he kept you out of.”
“Maybe we should have been in it more.”
“Like you’re doing with Edwards and Leonetti, picking up that kid, putting him to work for you?”
Jerry said, yeah, “Going after the big boys. They’re moving in here from Montreal everyday, there’s more product passing under our noses down into the states everyday, going to Boston, New York, all the way down the coast. We know they’re bringing in coke offshore, we know there are some big grow ops here.”
“You think we’re BC now, you think there’s New Brunswick Bud?”
Al was laughing but Jerry said, “It’s not so crazy.”
“Just remember, Henry knew all this, too, but he knew what he was up against. Out there, and in here.” Al looked right at Jerry and motioned a little around the office and then gave a kind of thumbs up and said, “All the way to the top.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Henry had us making good, steady arrests, our numbers were always good, everybody was happy.”
“That’s the problem, everybody was happy, the dealers, the growers, everybody. Maybe it’s time people weren’t so happy.”
Al was nodding then, agreeing but worried. “Just don’t try too much too soon.”
“Anything is better than nothing.”
On that, they agreed.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Hospital
Isobel parked her Toyota Echo and walked towards the hospital, passing by a group of people standing the twenty feet form the door they needed to be to smoke and felt the craving again, something she hadn’t in quite a while, thinking it must be the stress, Jerry working all these extra hours, no extra money coming, no sign of any changes and then she saw someone she thought she knew, an overweight woman wearing track pants and a sweatshirt, smoking and leaning on a wheelchair, a severely handicapped girl maybe ten years old in the chair.
The woman looked at Isobel before she could look away and she was caught. They did know each other and as the woman kept looking at her Isobel realized it was Melody Goodwin so she said, “Hi, Melody?” Making it a question.
“Yeah, Isobel McClintock, right.”
“I go by Northup here, my married name.”
“Wow, it’s been a long time.”
Isobel said yeah, high school, “Long time ago,” and Melody said, “You married a cop, didn’t you?” And Isobel said, yeah, and she almost said, the one who’s going to arrest your son, but she said, “We’ve got three kids now.”
Melody said, “The kids I’ve got. You remember Mickey, I brought him into school when he was born, you remember what Mrs. Johnson said?”
“I just remember what a good looking baby he was.”
“He was freakin’ huge is what he was. Eleven pounds. And I have Madison, she’s out west, and Summer here.”
Isobel looked at the girl in the wheelchair, her head drooping to one side, no real expression on her face and said, “How old is she,” and Melody said, “Eleven,” and Isobel realized that Melody Goodwin had probably been bringing her little girl to the hospital her whole life, the whole eleven years and Isobel’d been working there even longer and she’d probably walked right past her dozens of times and not even noticed her. She’d only recognized her today because Jerry mentioned Mickey Goodwin and brought back all those memories.
Melody said, “The doctors said she wouldn’t live past five,” and Isobel said, well doctors,
“What do they know,” and they shared a smile over that.
Then Melody looked at Summer and said, “Yeah, we’ve seen enough of them, that’s for sure.”
Isobel said, yeah, I guess, and then it was really awkward, she just wanted to walk away but Melody was looking at her, saying, “So, you work here?” And Isobel said, yeah, “I’m a nurse, emergency room.”
“You always wanted to be a nurse, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know there was anything else I could be, nurse or teacher, right? And I sure didn’t want to put up with kids like us all day.”
“That would suck.”
And they were both smiling so Isobel said she’d better get to work if she wanted to keep the job and Melody said, yeah, “I’d better get going too,” and Isobel was happy neither one of them had said anything about seeing each other again.
Though as she walked into the hospital she realized they probably would – as much as they probably had in the past but now they’d have to say something to each other. Shit.
Trans Canada Highway – Degelis, Quebec
Just across the border into Quebec Mickey pulled into the parking lot of an Irving gas station, looking like every other Irving station in the Maritimes, big roof over the pumps and a restaurant, Irving the last chain to hold out against putting in a fast food outlet.
He saw the Audi A4 already in the lot, parked a few cars down , went inside and there was Marcel Dagenais sitting in a booth eating soup.
Mickey sat down across from him and said, “You’re early,” and Marcel said there was no traffic, said, “It was an easy drive.”
The waitress came to the table and Mickey said, “That’s okay, I’m not hungry,” and Marcel said, you sure? “This chowder is really good,” and Mickey said, yeah, “I get enough seafood,” and Marcel was looking at him so he said, “Maybe a cup of coffee,” and the waitress said, okay, and walked away.
Then Mickey said, so, “I think I can move more product.”
Marcel ate a spoonful of soup and said, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I was thinking maybe double up.”
“Two a month?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“You have the customers?”
“Oh yeah, every one I got now is asking me for more.”
Marcel said, okay, maybe, but, “The price is the same,” and Mickey said, “Yeah, sure, of course,” and then thought he agreed to quickly, he should have tried to make a deal, the second kilo should’ve been cheaper, shit.
The waitress came to the table then and put down the coffee and when she left Marcel said,
“Okay, we can do something next month,” and Mickey said, okay, “Great.”
He poured cream and sugar into the coffee, his hands shaking a little, and drank, trying to steady his nerves and said, “I really appreciate you meeting here, you know, halfway like this and everything, but maybe next time I could come up to Montreal, you know, I’m going to be a bigger customer I could get some of that Montreal service.”
Marcel leaned back in the booth and smiled a little, saying, “You don’t have hookers in
Moncton,” and Mickey said, man, “Not like you have in Montreal. I still remember that chick, when I got out of slam and partied with you guys? She was something else,” and Marcel said, “Yeah, I guess she was.”
Mickey drank more coffee and tried not to look right at Marcel, but the guy just said, “Yeah, okay, we’ll set something up,” and Mickey said, “Hey great,” hoping it didn’t show how relieved he was.
He finished his coffee and walked back out to the parking lot, walking past his minivan and going to the trunk of the Audi. He opened it and took out a grocery bag and dropped in an envelope, walked back to his minivan, got in and drove off knowing no one noticed anything.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Northup Home
Jerry was flipping channels, a little Sportsnet – playoffs starting and it looked the Canadiens would get bounced in the first round again, but at least they were winning this game - a little news and a piece of a movie.
Isobel came into the basement carrying a big hardcover book close to her chest and sat down on the couch next to Jerry and said, here, look, “She was in my senior year,” and Jerry said, “Who?”
“Melody Goodwin.” Isobel opened the yearbook and held it in her lap. “That’s her.”
“She was in your class?”
“She’s not in the class picture, this must have been taken at the beginning of the year, she got pregnant and dropped out.”
“That’ll be Mickey.”
“I remember she brought him to school to show him off, he was so tiny.” Isobel was still staring at the photo in the yearbook. “Now he’s a big time drug dealer.”
Jerry said, not that big time, “But we’re hoping.”
“Then I saw her today in front of the hospital, she has a handicapped daughter.”
“Yeah, and she’s got another daughter, twenty-three, she’s out west.”
Isobel said, “How do you now?” and Jerry said it was in Mickey’s file, “She’s a hooker in Vancouver.”
Isobel closed the yearbook and said, “I realized I’ve probably seen Melody dozens of times at the hospital, she’s been bringing that girl in since she was born, I must have just walked right past her.”
“I bet she’s changed.”
Isobel said, oh yeah, she’s changed, “She looks sixty years old, but she still looks like Melody, you know? She was just invisible to me.”
Jerry said, yeah, and it was quiet for a minute and then Isobel said, “And I was thinking, imagine if our kids were that old now, if they were all grown up,” and Jerry said that’d be all right, “We wouldn’t have to do everything for them, we’d have this place to ourselves.”
“Seriously.”
“Okay.”
“Before Melody dropped out, a few years before, we were friends. Well not friends, really, but we hung out with some of the same people.”
“These your wild years?”
“No, this was kids’ stuff. We were dressing up like Madonna, we were talking about boys not talking to boys.”
“So Melody had the wild years?”
“I don’t think so, not really. She got pregnant and dropped out and then I must have heard that she had another kid, but then I never really heard anything else. Her whole family was messed up.”
“That’s usually the way it is.”
“That’s so sad.”
Jerry didn’t say anything, he looked at his wife but she was a million miles away. She stood up and said, “I’m going to bed,” and he said he’d be up in a few minutes, just wanted to see if Montreal could hold the lead, but she wasn’t listening and she was gone up the stairs.
Moncton, New Brunswick – RCMP Offices
Jerry was in the office early and Edwards knocked on his open door and he said, “Hey, Ev.”
She stepped in saying he was in early and he said, “I had no idea there was so much paperwork.”
She said, yeah, and then didn’t say anything else so Jerry said, “What’s up?”
Edwards said, “It’s Mickey Goodwin.”
“What about him?”
“I had a meeting with him last night, he wants out.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t want to keep dealing with the guys in Montreal.”
“He has to.”
“He said he’d rather go to jail here.”
“I’m sure he would, but that’s not one of his options.”
Edwards looked around the office, still looking like Henry Bergeron’s, Jerry hadn’t changed anything and she said, “It’s what we would have done last week,” and Jerry said, yeah, “But it’s this week now.”
“He says he’s not getting anything out of the guys in Montreal anyway.”
“Well,” Jerry said, “Mickey never was one to stick with things. Look it’s going to take a while, he’s going to have to buy more. Get him some more money, tell him to buy four keys, we’ll keep two let him put two out on the street. He gets to be a bigger player they’ll trust him more.”
Edwards said, “He’s really not good at this,” and Jerry said, no, “But you are. Look, he’s in it, it’s what he does, you keep pushing him, stay on him but be patient, it’s not going to happen overnight.”
“Okay, sounds good, long-term planning.”
“Something new around here.”
Edwards said, yeah, something new, and walked out of the office.
Jerry went back to the paperwork, more overtime requisitions. It didn’t look like Bergeron had ever even asked for overtime, so worried about the budget.
Then Jerry was thinking it was about time they started worrying more about crime.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Loose Moose Bar and Grill
Alphonse Turcotte was eating chicken wings and telling the story about Jerry, when he was on highway patrol out of Bathurst and they sent him to serve a warrant on a guy who ran a scrap yard, “And, of course, was selling stolen car parts.”
Jerry was leaning back in his chair, beer in hand and watching Edwards and Leonetti and Whitney and a couple other cops and he was thinking they were coming together as a team already.
“So he drives as far in as he can, but the road is blocked by crap, car bodies and old truck.”
“And a caboose, busted up into pieces,” and everybody laughed.
Al said, “So he gets out and walks up to the office, and I’m staying back,” and Jerry said,
“Of course you are.”
“And I’m wondering why he doesn’t think, where’s the dog?”
Jerry just shook his head.
“So he gets all the way into the office and Buddy we’re coming to serve is there and now we see the dog, big German shepherd and he’s growling low and Buddy doesn’t say anything but he motions with his head, just a little, and the dog goes for Jerry and gets him b the balls.”
Everybody laughs and Al said, “Just enough, you know, holding on but not biting down, and Buddy says, ‘What do you want pig,’ like a tough guy and Jerry here pulls out his .38 and aims it right at Buddy and says, ‘Call of the dog or I’ll kill you,’ and Buddy looks like he dropped a load in his pants and called off the dog.”
Whitney said, “What the hell, then what?” and Al said, “Then Jerry shot the dog,” and Edwards said, “What? You shot the dog?”
“Damned right I shot the dog. I would’ve shot Buddy if Al hadn’t been there, I didn’t know him well enough them, if he’d turn me in or what.”
And everybody laughed and Jerry looked sideways at Al, knowing him well enough now, knowing he was telling these stories so they’d all bind with the new boss, Jerry finally realizing how good al was at the politics.
Then Jerry’s phone beeped and he looked at the screen, saw it was Isobel and stood up and walked away from the table to take it, saying, “Hey.”
Isobel said, “Are you still at work,” and Jerry said, “Yeah.”
“Can you get away.”
“What, now?”
“I called Emily, but she can’t stay any longer.”
“You were supposed to be off half an hour ago.”
“Jocelyn couldn’t come in and there was a car accident, we’re going into surgery.”
“How long are you going to be?”
“I don’t know, hours. We’ve done this before, Jerry, you were always able to get home.”
Jerry was looking back at the table, at Al telling the team another story. He said, “Yeah, I know but it’s different now.”
“Now that you’re the boss?”
“Yeah.”
Isobel said, “We’re going to have to talk about this,” and Jerry said, “Yeah,” and Isobel said, “But not now because I have to get into surgery,” and Jerry said, okay, fine, “I’ll take care of it,” and hung up.
He walked back to the table and Al said, “Everything okay,” and he said, “Yeah,” and picked up his beer and said, “Gentlemen,” and looked at Edwards and said, “and lady, here’s to doing a good job,” and he downed what was left and turned away form the table while everyone else was still drinking.
Al caught up to him and said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine, it’s just Isobel has to work late and we don’t have a babysitter,” and Al said, “okay.”
Jerry looked at him and said, “But the boss shouldn’t be the first one to go home, should he?”
“Even the boss has family life.”
Jerry said, yeah, that’s right, but he looked back at the table and knew it would be better if he could stay, thinking of all the things he was planning to ask of his team and how it wouldn’t feel right, him running out.
Still, he had to go.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Northup Home
The only light in the house was from the fridge, Jerry getting a beer, when the front door opened and Isobel walked in.
Jerry closed the fridge and watched her walk into the kitchen and she said, “Hey there,” and he said, hey.
She walked towards him but he moved to the other side of the island so she went to the fridge and got herself a beer. Opening it she said, “What a night,” and took a drink looking at him a she did.
“Yeah, here too.”
“Five people in a car and three in a pick-up in a head-on. One was DOA and two more died on the table, but the rest’ll be okay. More or less.”
Jerry said, “That’s great,” and drank from his beer bottle. The kitchen was a mess.
Isobel said, “I’m not quitting my job.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“And I’m not transferring to another department.”
“So now I’m going to have crazy hours, too.”
“You always had crazy hours.”
“Now it’s going to be worse.”
She said, it should be better now, “If you’re gonna be the boss you should delegate, you should work office hours.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“You just don’t want to give up the fun parts, playing cops and robbers with your buddies.”
“It’s not a game.”
Isobel walked out of the kitchen saying, “I’m not talking about this tonight, I’m too tired.”
And Jerry stood in the dark house and drank his beer.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Evergreen Park School
Jerry pulled up in front of the school still on the phone, saying, “No net yet... later today for sure... come on, Al, I’m on it... yeah, I know we need it today, it’s a report, we’ll submit it, don’t worry... yeah, yeah, I know as soon as I get in.” He flipped his phone shut and said, “Sheesh,” and from the back seat Sam said, “Didn’t you get your homework done?”
Herbie was still looking too serious and Jerry said, “It’s not homework.”
Sam said, “Will you get a detention,” looking sideways to see if Herbie was laughing, but he wasn’t, but he was starting to smile.
Jerry said, yeah, “I’ll have to stay late,” and Sam said, “Will you have to write, ‘I will not forget my homework,’ a hundred times and then Herbie was laughing.
“Yeah, I will and I’ll have to clean out the cells. Come on, you guys are going to be late.”
Herbie slid open the side door and jumped out, running off, and Sam hung back and said,
“So, are you and Mom going to get a divorce,” and Jerry said, “No, of course not, why would you ask that?”
“You slept on the couch in the basement last night.”
Jerry looked at his son and said it was nothing, said, “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
Sam said, “Okay, but are you sure? Because maybe our next dad will be a doctor and we’ll get a cottage and a boat.”
Jerry started to smile and then tried to look serious and said, “Get out of this car right now,” and Sam said, “Okay, I’m just saying.”
He got a few steps towards the school and turned back around and waved and Jerry waved and sat in the car and watched until both of his sons were inside the school.
Moncton, New Brunswick – east of downtown
Mickey Goodwin was standing beside his minivan, leaning against the hood not even looking around.
Kathie, the hooker in the mini skirt, halter top and five inch heels in the middle of the day was saying how good Mickey’s stuff was, “Really good, pure,” and Mickey said, “Yeah.”
She started to hand him the money but she heard a car and pulled her hand back and Mickey said, “Don’t worry about it,” and she looked at him standing there like he wasn’t worried about a thing and she said, “What’s going on?”
Mickey said nothing, “We’re good, come on,” and took the money.
Kathie said she could use more, she said, “I don’t have any more money yet, but I could work it off,” and Mickey said, sure, “what the hell, let’s go,” and walked around his minivan, looking at Kathie just standing there and he said, “So, get in,” and she did, still surprised.
Mickey drove to the lot behind the old train repair shop that had been closed for years and she gave him a blowjob. It took him a while to get it up and she said, “You okay,” a couple of times, but he finished and gave her four more eightballs and drove her back to St. George Street.
Moncton, New Brunswick – east end
After getting rid of another dozen eightballs in was past midnight when Mickey pulled up in front of the house he rented in the east end. His girlfriend had been gone three weeks, up to Toronto looking for work, trying to be a stripper but Mickey knew if she was going to make any money it’d be as a hooker, she just didn’t have the moves for the big city clubs, so the house was empty.
Or, it should have been, but as Mickey got closer to the front door he saw someone inside.
He walked up the steps to the front door and looked in, then let out a sigh and opened the door saying, “Hey man, I didn’t know you were in town.”
Marcel Dagenais stood up from the couch saying, “Well here I am.”
“You wanna go out for a beer or something, I don’t have anything in the house.”
“Nothing?”
“No, sorry,” and then he saw the gun in Marcel’s hand, some kind of Glock it looked like and he said, “What the hell,” and Marcel shot him in the chest.
Mickey fell to his knees, wide-eyed, still couldn’t believe it and Marcel took a step closer and shot him in the face and then again in the chest and then walked out.
The street was quiet, no sound except for the car that slowed down to let Marcel get in.
Across the street a woman walking her dog saw him leave the house and the door still wide open and she walked up to see what was going on and saw Mickey on the floor. She didn’t scream, she just took out her cell phone and called 911.
Moncton, New Brunswick – Hospital Emergency Room
Doc Kovalchuck and three nurses were working on the body, elbow deep in blood, but they all knew it was too late.
Kovalchuck said, “Two entry wounds,” and Isobel said, no, “There’s another one here, and Kovalchuck said, yes, “And another.”
The monitor was giving them a straight line and Isobel said, “Are you going to call it?” and Kovalchuck poked around for another minute and then stood up straight and starting pulling his gloves off, saying, “Time of death, one fifty-seven,” and walking out of the room.
Isobel looked at the two younger nurses and nodded and then she walked out of the room, too, taking off her gloves and cleaning up before walking out to the waiting room.
Melody was there, standing beside her daughter’s wheelchair, looking like she’d been crying for a while but stopped and got herself together a little looking at Isobel, a little bit of hope left and Isobel said, “I’m so sorry Melody,” and the crying started again.
Isobel said, “We did all we could, everything we could, but his injuries were too severe.”
Melody caught her breath and said, “He wasn’t injured, he was shot, he was murdered, they killed him, they killed him.”
“I know, Melody, I’m sorry.”
“They killed him because your husband pushed him into it, Mickey wasn’t a player, he never would have gone to Montreal on his own, he was just a kid.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything, you have no idea, your husband might as well taken my Mickey out and shot him the head himself.”
Isobel said, “Melody.”
“No, just stop it, stop it,” and she turned the wheelchair away from Isobel and sat down and put her hands to her face and cried.
Isobel went and got cleaned up and changed and drove home. It was the middle of the night when she got there, the house dark and quiet and the place still a mess. She dropped her coat on the back of the couch and walked down the hall to the bedrooms, stopping to look in on Susie, sleeping under her Kim Possible blanket. Isobel stood and looked at her and then backed out, closed the door and stood outside the boys’ room.
She stood there for quite a while and finally opened the door, knowing the room would be a disaster and it was, clothes and toys and junk everywhere and Herbie and Sam in their beds.
Looking at them she wondered if they’d ever each want their own room or if they wouldn’t even think of it. Her boys, still little boys.
She closed the door and turned to see Jerry standing in the hall by the open door to their room.
She could tell just by looking at him that he knew about Mickey Goodwin and she wanted to be mad at him, she wanted to blame him and hear him say it was Mickey’s fault, he played with fire and he got burned and she knew that was true, but there was more to it, it was more complicated.
And Jerry didn’t say anything. Just stood there looking at her and she knew he understood, she knew he felt it, he wasn’t going to show it but he wasn’t going to brush it off like Mickey was nothing. She knew that.
They embraced.
THE END