William Deverell - April Fool

“ACU?”

“Anti-Corruption Unit.”

Below, heading for the exit, presumably for a smoke, are Hoover and Claudette, friendly, old transgressions forgiven. Alone in the Great Hall is Jasper Flynn, composing himself. Hoping Arthur is just sniffing around.

Buddy Svabo never really cottoned to the man, despite his meticulous preparation for this prosecution. He had a dangerous ex-con in his jurisdiction, a thief, a rapist, and he didn’t warn the community. Flynn didn’t want to scare Faloon off. He had a use for Faloon.

Arthur hopes he has it right this time. Finally, after so many blind alleys, he has a plausible chronology. Almost exactly a year ago, early summer, Desiree began seeing Eve Winters-professionally, but the relationship soon altered. At some point, she fled her husband. In October, she and Eve parted ways, and Eve took up with her graduate student. That same month, Jasper was rushed to Port Alberni to relieve the Major Crimes chief. Work was left undone, paper left unpushed. It jogged Flynn’s memory-perhaps as he was checking out Faloon-that records section had “concluded” a case relating to this same infamous felon, a rape conviction.

As he summarizes this for Lotis, she nods, smiling up at him. Respect. He has her respect.

“In January, Holly lets out that Eve was planning a spring break in Bamfield. Eureka, it came to him, a plan for the perfect murder. He found a reason to come back to Vancouver briefly, to work on the backlog. Helped the exhibits custodian with a little housecleaning.”

“Is that enough, do you think?”

“Enough to convict him? Doubtful. A jury will demand proof he knew of the affair between Daisy and Eve.”

“Ask him. Ask him how he felt when the mother of his children got turned into a queer by her therapist.”

“It’s critical that we talk to Desiree. Keep after her lawyer.” There’s a new presence in the courtroom: a gentleman of apparent authority, crisply attired, closely shorn. If Flynn’s jumpy reaction is read rightly, he’s a redcoat of high rank, probably inspector. The Anti-Corruption Unit. A law degree too, because he has taken a chair in front of the bar that separates barristers from the unwashed laity.

Presumably, Buddy has talked to this officer, has been put wise, knows the defence hopes to subpoena paperwork that could tie his aide-de-camp to a coolly planned murder-one lacking any mitigating circumstance, the investigation a charade. Buddy won’t be forgiving if he decides he’s been duped.

Kroop, though, is not in the loop, and his baleful glare tells Arthur he doesn’t want him continuing his smear campaign against a veteran officer. But his Lordship has returned to court armed with only his top teeth, as evinced by a wobbly lower lip, so his nuisance value may be limited.

Lotis is still outside on the phone. Faloon, who’s quietly enjoying his redemption, has almost become the forgotten man of this trial. He could casually walk out and no one notice. Flynn is still declining to sit, though he seems tense and shaky. He’s expressionless, looking straight ahead, though seemingly at nothing.

“I was pleased to hear, officer, that there’s a pleasure we share. Fishing. Trolling for salmon. You do that out in the Alberni Inlet, I suppose. Barkley Sound.”

“The boys and I, sometimes their friends. When I get a day off.”

“A basic runabout, that’s my rig. I imagine you have something snappier. With power.”

“A Cormoran 850 inboard inflatable, it can get around.”

“What sort of dinghy?”

“A small Zodiac.”

“You have all the latest, I suppose. Up-to-date GPS. Sonar.”

“That’s right. I don’t believe in risking lives.”

“Where do you keep her?”

“Small marina just down our road.”

“Hockey is another favourite sport? You’re a proud hockey dad.”

“The boys are pretty good at all sports.”

“I’ll bet they have a proud mother too.”

“Well, I guess so, yes.”

“But she’s not at home with you.”

“We’re separated.”

“And in the process of divorcing, I understand.”

“Mr. Svabo!” Kroop cries out, demanding that this lifeless prosecutor get on the ball. Buddy complies by objecting to these personal matters, but without much heart.

Arthur reminds the court that Flynn was introduced as a man of integrity. “The Crown has put Flynn’s character in issue. And with all due respect to the court, I intend to test it.”

Kroop has no answer. “Please don’t be all day.”

“Am I right, sergeant? You’re being divorced?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, it happens to the best of us. When did your marriage start falling into trouble?”

“It hadn’t been working well for a few years. We stuck it out for the boys. It, ah, got worse last summer.”

“Were you seeking help for it?”

Flynn has been holding himself from playing with his moustache-Arthur once kidded him about it during a break-but gives in, working it, buying time, as if any response might imperil him. “Frankly, I felt the problems were hers.”

“Were either of you seeking help last summer?”

“Not me. I can’t speak for her. Don’t know what she did with her day, except she worked part-time at a drugstore.”

“Ah, and where would that be?”

“I don’t know. Down on Marine Drive.”

Lotis is back, at Arthur’s ear. “Still waiting for Daisy’s lawyer to phone. I’ll get a list of Marine Drive pharmacies.” And she’s gone again.

“You were posted to Alberni about mid-October?”

“Yes.”

“What about your family?”

“I encouraged the boys to come with me, and they did. Switched schools.”

“And your wife?”

“She, ah, no, she stayed in Vancouver.”

“Desiree.” The name hangs there, in large letters, like a lurid movie poster. Arthur is on overdrive, focused, his personal concerns stowed safely away, no longer rubbing at him. “Desiree, that’s her name? Desiree Flynn?”

Flynn fingers the moustache. “Right.”

“But everyone called her Daisy.” Pens working at the press table, a rustling in the back.

“I called her Desi.”

“But she didn’t like that name either, did she?” This is a calculated guess, but Flynn seems taken aback, as if Arthur has insider knowledge. Maybe he called her Dizzy.

Flynn looks at the visiting RCMP inspector, then quickly away, and amends, “A couple of her friends called her Daisy.”

“That’s what she preferred?”

“Maybe, we didn’t discuss it.”

“Dear Daisy. That’s whom we’re talking about, isn’t it? The diamond in the rough with the abusive husband.”

“That…I’m sorry, but that’s total nonsense, sir.” It’s all or nothing for Jasper now, and he rises to the occasion with dramatics, with sputtering astonishment. “I am grossly offended, sir, if you’re suggesting I had something to do with the death of Dr. Winters. I didn’t know the woman. I had no reason to dislike her.”

“Surely you were aware your wife was receiving counselling from her?”

“I don’t know what Desi was doing.”

A noisy stirring in the back, as Ruth Delvechio shuffles past her seatmates and out the door, in obvious distress. Buddy is staring at Flynn with concern, fighting the realization that all along he’s been running a bogus prosecution. The jury seems to be falling out of love with Flynn too. But Kroop’s in denial, making sulky faces, unable to entertain the notion that a stalwart veteran of a cherished institution has committed an unpardonably evil act.

Arthur confronts the witness with Eve’s old appointments calendar, the name Desiree written in twice for July. A tussle with Kroop follows over whether it can be filed as an exhibit, but the defanged jurist relents when Arthur offers to call the deceased’s secretary.