John Goldbach - The Devil and the Detective

‘No one’s paid me for anything, Rick. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Cut the crap. It’s time to stop playing games. I know Bouvert and Adamson have paid you for something.’

Not surprisingly, he whacked me with the phonebook again.

‘Listen to me, motherfucker!’ he said, dropping the phonebook and pulling my hair back and spitting on my face. ‘You better shut the fuck up right now and stop asking questions or I’ll kill you myself. And next time no phonebook, instead a pistol-whipping,’ and he let go of my hair and pulled out his Glock from his shoulder holster, waving it in my face like a tough guy. ‘I don’t give a shit what you think, Rick — you don’t have a clue. I’m warning you that you need to leave town before you get yourself killed by asking too many questions.’

‘So if you think someone might kill me why don’t you do something about it? You’re the police.’

‘I am doing something about it, asshole, so don’t get in my goddamn way.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I don’t care. Get on a plane or bus or train and get out of town.’

‘If I don’t …?’

‘Leave town?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I thought I made that clear. You’ll be killed. The only thing I could do to protect you is to lock you up. Or, you could leave town. Two choices.’

‘What are you going to arrest me for?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll stuff a bag of heroin in your shirt pocket. Whatever it takes. It’s not hard.’

‘I need twelve hours to solve this case.’

‘All right, seriously, stop it. Enough jokes.’ He put his gun away, back in its holster. ‘You’re deluded. You’re a delusional man. Leave or I’ll put you away for a long time, not just for the duration of this case. If I lock you up because you’re sniffing around this case, it’ll be for the rest of your life, capisce? ’

‘O’Meara — ’

‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes. Yes, I understand.’

He uncuffed me and offered me a handkerchief for my bloodied nose.

‘You’ll wait here and an officer’s going to escort you home, you’re going to pack a bag, and then he’ll see you to the train station or the airport or the bus depot, your choice — ’

‘Thanks.’

‘ — and you’re going to get on your chosen mode of transportation and you’re going to travel to your chosen destination and you’re not going to show your face around here for a long, long time.’

‘Deal.’

‘I’m not really giving you a choice. Well, this or prison or death, I guess, so I am giving you a choice.’

‘I’ll get on a train and disappear for a while.’

‘Rick, that’s the first thing you’ve ever said I’ve liked.’ He opened the door to the interrogation room.

‘O’Meara,’ I said, holding the handkerchief to my nose.

‘Yeah … ’

‘See you in the funny pages.’

‘See you in the funny pages, Rick.’

The same officer who shot me up with electricity drove me back to my apartment, where I was supposed to pack and then hop on a train, not to return for some time. Of course, however, I’d made my plan of escape on the car ride home. It’d stopped raining and the temperature had dropped. Officer McLaughlin was short but muscular, top heavy, with a broad chest and broad shoulders. He clearly plays rugby on weekends, I thought, and when I asked him, he was astonished, and he responded in the affirmative.

‘How’d you know?’ he said.

‘Because I’m a detective,’ I said, and unlike O’Meara he didn’t make any derogatory remarks; he just seemed impressed.

I was growing to like Officer McLaughlin, despite the fact that he tased me, and I was feeling a little guilty that I was about to skip out on him, which would no doubt get him in a world of trouble and affect his career; for this, truly, I felt bad, but I had a case to solve and I wasn’t about to get on a train and leave town, not yet.

When we arrived at my place, I offered Officer McLaughlin a cup of tea or coffee, having nothing else to offer, and he accepted a cup of tea, and I started to pack a bag, with some clothes and my camera, et cetera. I wanted to pack some weaponry but didn’t want to look too suspicious. I told him I had to use the washroom to get cleaned up — wash away the blood — and pack my toiletry kit and he said that was fine but to be fast. I said thanks.

I ran the shower and the washroom began to fill up with steam. I washed my face quickly at the sink. I opened the small window above the shower and tried to figure out a way of hoisting myself up and out of it to the fire escape, while steam billowed and rolled out the window. The window was small, indeed, high up. I’d leave my bag behind, I decided. If I pulled myself up, I thought, I could balance on the shower-curtain bar, which was metal and very sturdy and screwed into the wall, and roll out the window. And that was exactly what I did, leaving the shower running and the washroom filling up with steam. As quietly as I could, I took the stairs down the fire escape to the street. I took back alleys to Chez Marine.

Getting to the flower shop’s back entrance wasn’t difficult, though I heard a police siren on the way and of course suspected it was Officer McLaughlin frantically searching for me. I slipped in the back door and didn’t make a sound. I looked around at all the flowers and tools and saw a cluttered desk with, amongst other things, a glow-in-the-dark Hasbro Ouija Board with a planchette on it. It must be Julie’s, I instantly thought, and then she came in to the back of the store and put her hand on her small chest, startled.

‘You frightened me!’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but the police are after me.’

‘Oh wow.’

‘Is Darren around?’

‘No, but I’ll call his cell. I haven’t seen him since you two left earlier.’

‘I was with him but then I got taken away by the cops. He doesn’t know. He was sitting waiting for me in the car, while I was going to grab some supplies from my place.’

‘I’ll call,’ she said, and picked up a phone on the desk with the Ouija board. While Julie dialed, I thought I should contact Gerald Andrews with the board and ask him who stabbed him to death.

‘Darren,’ she said, ‘I’m with Bob. At the store. He’s in trouble … Okay, bon … Ciao … ’ She hung up the phone.

‘What’s he saying?’

‘He’s on his way, said he just stopped at his apartment.’

‘Great. Merci, Julie. ’

‘ De rien .’

Darren was there within minutes. Of course, his first question was what the hell happened and I filled him in on everything: the Taser, the interrogation, the phonebook, O’Meara’s Glock and splitting out the washroom window on Officer McLaughlin.

‘We’ve only got a little over an hour till O’Meara meets up with the lawyers, so we’d better get moving,’ I said.

‘I’m ready,’ said Darren, picking up a nail gun off a table.

‘Is this is a good idea?’ said Julie.

‘I don’t know,’ I said, ‘but we have to do something. I can’t just sit on my hands. We have to be there for the payoff — see what this is all about, see what O’Meara’s up to.’

‘Do you believe he’s working on the case?’ said Darren. ‘Like, undercover?’

‘Do you?’

‘No.’

‘Me neither, but I’ve been fooled so many times that I’m open to the possibility that he’s on the up and up.’

‘Right … ’

‘We’ll see, I suppose.’

‘So what …?’

‘We go down to the Old Port, find this restaurant, find the pier close by, and then hide and watch. A stakeout.’