Ann-Marie MacDonald - Way the Crow Flies

“Please dismiss it from your minds now …,” says the judge.

Jack was at the preliminary hearing. It lasted a day. And given the little the prosecution could come up with, it’s a wonder the case proceeded to trial. Rick found the body. Rick was the last to see her alive. Rick fled from an intimidating cop. Time of death. End of story. Proving nothing. “… I would ask that you avoid reading any newspaper reports about this case and that you likewise avoid any radio reports or television….”

This is a farce. Two families are being put through hell because of a botched police investigation. The local civilian population may be sleeping easier in their belief that the murderer has been found, but most parents in the PMQs are still on alert. “… at the hotel in Goderich, where, if you are not comfortable, gentlemen, do not hesitate to make demands upon the county….” The McCarrolls are among the few who now believe Rick may be guilty. And who can blame them for desiring a swift end to this aspect of their grief? “… if those chairs become hard, gentlemen, I have already requested that rubber cushions be brought in for your comfort, since it is important that you be able to give your full attention to….”

Jack has put in for an early posting. He has gone over the head of the personnel officer at Centralia, straight to a superior officer he knew at 4 Wing in Germany. A couple of years ago Jack went out of his way to organize a last-minute flip to Canada on a service flight for this man’s family, earning an “any time I can do anything for you, Jack….” The group captain is now an air commodore at HQ in Ottawa—“What can I do for you, Jack?”

Jack will move his family the moment his posting comes through. In fact, he will take his leave the moment the trial is over, pack his family into the Rambler and point it east for New Brunswick — now that school is out, it will be difficult to keep Madeleine within the PMQs and out of the woods.

“May it please your Lordship”—the Crown attorney rises, his robes likewise black but heavier, woollen—“and ladies and gentlemen of the — pardon me, gentlemen of the jury….”

Jack looks out the window at the tranquil square, picture perfect. Perhaps he should retire from the air force, hit civvy street. Go back overseas. As a consultant … for a big company … pharmaceuticals, widgets, it hardly matters. They’ll buy a house of their own, they’ll travel. Like old times. “… the time of death, to the time of finishing the last meal. Other times are also of importance—” Jack removes his jacket and straightens his back, wet now against the bench. The Crown attorney is outlining his case, such as it is. “… when she walked out of the house. That was the last time her mother ever saw her alive. But you will hear of her being in the playground of the school after that, where a Brownie pack — they are little girls commencing to be Girl Guides — was to gather. You will hear from two children who may be very important witnesses in your estimation, Marjorie Nolan and Grace Novotny….” The one name is familiar. Friends of Madeleine? What have they got to say? They were not at the preliminary hearing, no children were. “… they are girls from the same grade as Claire McCarroll and they were playing together that afternoon, and you will hear better from their own lips….”

The precise time Claire left the playground, the precise time she met up with Ricky and Elizabeth. Half the children in the PMQs will be called to establish for the prosecution that which is not even in dispute: Claire shared her snack with Madeleine and Colleen at such-and-such a time. She left the playground at such-and-such a time. She met up with Rick and left the PMQs, etc…. Why must the children be subjected to this?

The Crown attorney drones on, “… the place was a section of Huron County known to the children from the PMQs as Rock Bass. This is an invented name, you will not find it on any map, gentlemen. It is accessed by a dirt road called Third Line division road but you may expect to hear witnesses refer to it as ‘the dirt road,’ and it runs east-west between Number 4 Highway — that is the King’s Highway, not to be confused with County Road Number 4, with which it intersects farther north — as I said, between the King’s Highway and the Ausable River, this ‘dirt road’ is intersected — and this intersection may become important — by a section of road which is the southerly continuation of County Road Number 21, and which may be referred to in the course of this trial as ‘the county road’….” Is the Crown doing it on purpose? Is this strategy? Jack looks at the jury: twelve drowsy men. What follows is a baroque account of how long it takes to jog while pushing a wheelchair from the PMQs to Rock Bass, linger long enough to violate and murder a child, then jog back again in order to return to the PMQs by a certain time. The judge grimaces and shifts in his seat.

It is not physically possible for Rick to have committed the crime at Rock Bass, then returned to the PMQs via the route he claims to have taken, in time to arrive home when his mother and several witnesses will say he did — including his basketball coach, who received a phone call from him from a phone number that Bell telephone records will confirm is the Froelichs’. The time when Rick left for his run and the time when he returned are not in dispute. All that is in dispute is where he went and what he did in between. “… you will hear that the accused claims to have exchanged a greeting in the form of a wave with a passing motorist, an air force man, on the King’s Highway Number 4, and you will hear a police inspector tell you that, despite a thorough investigation….” Jack blinks twice rapidly, his eyes stung by salt sweat.

MIMI HAS TOLD MADELEINE that she would rather she didn’t play with Colleen Froelich “for the time being,” or spend so much time over at the Froelich house. She has been careful to explain to Madeleine that it’s not because there is anything “bad” about Colleen or the Froelich family, it’s just that the Froelichs have a lot on their minds these days. Madeleine was guiltily relieved. The Froelichs’ house has become dark in her mind. So has Colleen — she is halfway to Claire.

Summer holidays. No more homework, no more books! No more teachers’ dirty looks! Glorious June. Madeleine spent the morning with Auriel and Lisa, running through the sprinkler in their bathing suits, until the pool opened over on the base. Then they put on their bright new thongs, still springy at the heels, grabbed their beach towels, sunglasses and Auriel’s transistor radio, and headed over for three hours of splashing, cannonballing, choking, and stinging water up the nose. “No running on the deck!” They sunbathed on the Riviera with Troy Donahue and shrieked with laughter when Roy Noonan’s swim trunks ballooned in the water. When they returned to the PMQs, hungry for lunch and replete with sun, there was a moving van in Lisa’s driveway.

Now the three of them sit in Auriel’s pup tent, peeling her sunburn. They are so much older and wiser than when they last gathered in this enchanted orange twilight and watched the dust motes float across the triangular mesh window. Auriel’s mother has allowed them to bring their pyramid of peanut-butter-and-jam sandwiches into the tent in honour of Lisa’s farewell. The girls knew the moving van was coming today but it is still a shock to see it: the yellow ship rocking across the painted waves. The Ridelles are moving to B.C.

“Wow,” says Madeleine, peeling a perfect strip of translucent parchment from Auriel’s shoulder. “It’s got like fingerprints on it, and little holes like for your hair and everything.” They examine the gossamer moult, reducing it to powder between their fingers.