Reluctant Detective (2 page)

2

Billy lay in a casket which was couched in a small mountain of
flowers at the Daley Funeral Home in Charlottetown. The viewing
room was brightly lit. Anne and Jacqui were the only close relatives, and they would have been the only ones in the receiving line if Anne hadn't begged Ben Solomon to stand with her and her daughter. She
couldn't bear for them to be alone up there. Ben had been Billy's partner in Ottawa, and his best friend. He, too, had moved to PEI.
Now he was Detective Sergeant with the Charlottetown Police.

Ben was not a tall man, but he stood head and shoulders above
Anne. She seemed dwarfed by the heap of flowers and the enormity
of the casket and, dressed in a simple black dress, she seemed to
shrink even more. She held Jacqui's hand throughout most of the
ceremony. The rims of her hazel eyes hinted at redness, but her
voice remained strong.

A steady current of acquaintances, a few retired cops, friends still on the force, and former clients signed the book, viewed the
remains, offered the usual platitudes to Anne, Jacqui, and Ben, and made a donation to one of Billy's three favourite charities on their way out.

One of the last visitors, an old woman, stopped at the casket for
longer than most. She looked at the corpse, neatly dressed in his
best navy suit, and said, “Billy, you look just like yourself, God luv ya.” Then she turned toward Anne. “What killed him, dear?”

“A heart attack,” said Anne. “He had just turned sixty.”

“That's too, too young. I'd say it's the cigarettes. Maybe the coffee,
too. He never took up with the tea,” she added. She was a tiny woman. She shuffled her cane impatiently from one hand to the
other. The whites of her eyes bulged as if struggling to see better.

Who the devil is she?
Anne wondered.

“I'm Delia McKay, Billy's great aunt… by marriage, that is. I
remember him smokin' out behind our chicken house in Caledonia
when he was twelve. Roll yer owns. No one could afford bought
cigarettes then.” Delia smiled. “I always liked him. Where ya gonna put him, dear?”

“There's a family plot in Iona.”

“I'll visit him there, then. If you need anything…” She stuck out her hand.

“Thanks…” Anne felt a piece of paper being pressed firmly into her hand. Anne started to ask about it but, by then, Delia had moved on to Jacqueline. So she slipped it into her pocket.

“And this beautiful child looks like Billy's second-oldest sister, God rest her soul.” Fourteen-year-old Jacqueline's lips moved in a soundless
thank you
, but her eyes widened like someone facing a barking dog.

“I'm Ben Solomon, a good friend of Billy's.” Ben extended his hand over to the old woman and saved Jacqueline from more speechlessness. The old woman studied him closely.

“That's not an Island name.”

“No ma'am. I'm from away. Ontario.”

“Ohhh,” she said. Ben caught the note of wonder and relief in her voice at the same time as he saw the glint of pity in her eyes.

The funeral was out of St. Dunstan's Basilica the next day. Billy would have been pleased at the turnout at the church, Anne thought. Interment was in Iona, a country crossroads in the hill country in eastern PEI. It was a long drive out, 60 kilometres. There were half a dozen cars in the funeral procession.

The graveyard was neatly kept. A wrought iron gate marked the
entrance to two acres of grass and four dozen stone markers. A
wave of melancholy swept over Anne as her sedan swung into the cemetery. This is where her parents were buried.

It was the first time that she had been here, and she felt a bit guilty
about it. Losing Billy was like losing her father a second time. She
had kept her composure until now. Later, seeing the casket lowered
next to her parents' tombstones, and seeing another handful of
tilting markers with Darby carved into them, loosened something
inside her and tears flowed uncontrollably. The rest of the ceremony was a blur of tears.

Jacqui clung onto her mother's right arm. Anne felt a bony hand squeeze her left elbow. It was Delia McKay's.

“There, there, dear! It's all right.” Delia's eyes blinked away some redness, and her mouth drooped lopsidedly. “You've only just come home. That's all.”

Anne pulled herself together before they reached Charlottetown. She grew stronger as the miles passed, and even managed to share
a laugh with Jacqui. They pulled the car into a parking space near
Victoria Row. They had planned to meet Ben Solomon, Dit Malone, and a few others for a drink at The Blue Peter, a pub on the ground floor, below Billy's office. It had been his home away from home.

At mid-afternoon the pub was nearly empty. The others had
already arrived. Anne's eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dark atmosphere, but she pointed herself and Jacqui in the direction of
a large round booth in the corner. Mary Anne MacAdam, the pub's owner, was always careful to keep it unoccupied if she knew they
were coming.

“'Bout time you got here,” said Mary Anne. She was mid-forties,
freckle-faced, full-figured, and had the confidence of a national bank. “You get behind a horse and buggy out in the boonies?”

“We just took our time,” said Anne. “It's really beautiful country out there.”

“What can I get ya?”

“Whatever they're having, I guess, and a Coke for Jacqui.”

“Shot and a beer it is then.” And she hurried off to the bar.

“Oh God, I should have ordered white wine or something.”

“It'll do you the world of good,” said Ben. “But if you have to lay blame, Sparky here is the troublemaker.” He pointed to Dit, sitting in his wheelchair at the open end of the round booth. “You thought
he was just another typical Irish guy, but he's Polish on his mother's side. Shot and a beer is a national tradition.”

“And it's bad luck to ignore tradition,” added Sarah Solomon, Ben's wife.

Mary Anne arrived with the tray of drinks. She placed a shot of rye
and a glass of draft beer in front of everyone, including herself, and
sat down with them.

“Is someone else coming?” asked Jacqui. She pointed timidly toward the drinks in front of an empty seat.

“That's for Billy,” said Dit. “In some countries it's an Irish tradition.”
Then he raised his glass and added, “Here's to Billy, a good friend,
too soon gone.”

Everyone emptied their whisky tumblers. Anne grimaced and
hurriedly downed a mouthful of beer to cut the bite of the liquor.

“Good grief!” Anne said. “The things I endure for tradition.”

Over the next hour, the conversation centred mostly on stories
about Billy. Ben recalled some humorous moments from when he'd partnered with Billy in Ottawa.

“… and,” Sarah said to Anne, “you already know that Billy first introduced me to Ben, but did he ever tell you about the circum
stances?”

“No, actually.”

“Me neither,” said Jacqui, suddenly becoming interested.

“Well, Billy had to twist Ben's arm. Ben was a bit of a ladies' man
in those days. It was a blind date, in fact a double date with Billy and his girlfriend at the time. She was my roommate. Ben didn't want a
blind date, but Billy insisted as a special favour. So he finally gave
in. Just before Ben knocked on my door, though, Billy told him that I was an ex-nun, just out of the convent, and that he had to be very,
very careful around me. It was a lie, of course. I'm Jewish like Ben
is. He was such a gentleman that evening. That's what first attracted me to him. He didn't catch on until our second date.”

“I didn't catch on!” Ben exclaimed. “Neither did you.”

“That's true. Billy never told me I was supposed to be a Catholic
either,” laughed Sarah.

“I remember Billy telling me that story,” said Dit. “And I couldn't
help thinking afterward that it had to be more than just an elaborate
practical joke. Not that he would admit it. But I think he figured you
two would make a great couple.”

“Do you think he was right, Sarah? About the ‘great couple' theory?” Anne asked.

“Let's see… twenty-four years married… four kids…”

“… and no divorce lawyers on speed dial,” added Ben.

“Good point.”

“He had a way of looking out for other people. You never knew this Anne, but the trouble you had with that insurance company
job…” Ben stopped, glancing quickly at Jacqui, and then continued.
“Billy knew all about it somehow. His phone call for you to come
down here wasn't just a coincidence.”

“And if it weren't for him,” said Dit, “I'd probably be a bitter… drunken… cripple in a wheelchair…” There was a quiver in Dit's
voice. His eyes lowered and his head turned away from those at the table. There was an awkward silence. Then he said “… instead of the
devil-may-care, handsome, electronics genius and entrepreneur I
turned out to be! Gotcha!”

There was uproarious laughter from everyone at Dit's performance
along with threats either to dismantle his wheelchair or to file com
plaints with the Privacy Commissioner over the dodgy electronic
devices he was making. His shop produced specialized surveillance and tracking devices for private and government agencies in several countries.

“And what about you, Anne? What do you remember most about
him?” asked Sarah.

“Well… did you know he was my babysitter?”

“He babysat Jacqui?”

“No. Me. When I was little, four or five, he lived with us. That's
when he first arrived in Ottawa and joined the police department.
Sometimes he looked after me when mom and dad went out somewhere. He used to tease me about my name. Made me mad as hell. I guess he thought it would toughen me up.”

“Did it work?”

“No. School kids finished the job, and I never used ‘Wilhelmina'
again. Uncle Bill's teasing therapy was a flop, but what Ben said
about Billy looking out for other people is true. He always seemed to be around in those days, and I always seemed to be able to talk to him… about almost anything.”

“Anything?”

“Well, I once told him that I was pregnant.”

“You never…!” said Jacqui.

“Yes, but I was only eight years old at the time. I had no idea what
pregnant meant, but I had watched one soap opera character tell another that she was pregnant, and the result seemed terribly
shocking to everyone. So I decided to try it out on Uncle Billy.”

“How did he react to that?”

“He blinked.”

“He blinked?”

“Yes, he just blinked. Then he asked me if I preferred chocolate or
vanilla. I said vanilla, and we went out for ice cream. I trusted him with real secrets after that. Things I couldn't talk about to my parents. He never let me down, and he was always in the background,
kind of like a guardian angel.”

“More like a second father, if you ask me. You were the closest
thing to the kid he never had.”

“He didn't treat me like a kid, though. More like a buddy than a niece. And I remember quite a few Saturday mornings at the old
shooting range in Kings County. It was fun. Cool mornings, dew on the grass, smell of burnt powder in the air. And he talked about his cases. Said talking out loud helped him sort things out. And he asked my opinion on things. I liked that.”

“I can relate to that,” said Ben. “Every so often he used to ask for my take on things, too.”

Ben had a suppressed smirk on his face. Anne suspected that something was coming, but Ben held off until he had everyone's
attention before he continued.

“I remember one time especially. I was a rookie in Ottawa, first week on the job. We got a call to hot site, a drug store robbery in
progress. Billy let me drive and, when we got there, Billy got out
first. The suspects ran out the front door and headed for their car.
We were right behind them. Suddenly, Billy tackled me, took me to the ground. Then our squad car rolled past. I must've forgot to
put the car in park. It just missed me. Meanwhile, it was picking up
speed. It ran into the getaway car, and pinned the crooks inside.
Billy covered for me, thank god, or I'd have been working security at
the Laurier Retirement Village. Billy never said a word, but his new favourite rock group became Crash Test Dummies, and he hummed
Superman's Song every time I got behind the wheel. He'd say, ‘Aren't they a terrific group? Crash Test Dummies… catchy name. I think
they're gonna be really influential… you know, on the younger generation, people like you. What do you think, Ben?' He really
rubbed it in.”

Mary Anne banged down another tray of drinks. “On the house,” she said and sat down. “Did I miss anything?”

“Another of Ben's war stories,” said Sarah. “They improve with
each telling. What are you going to do now?” asked Sarah, bringing the focus back to Anne.

“I don't know,” said Anne. “Maybe I can find something around
here. This isn't the industrial hub of the Maritimes, though. We'll see. Maybe back to Ontario.”

“Mom! I've got friends here… and school.”

“I know, hon. I've got Billy's office to close up and some of his papers to sort. We've got the whole summer to decide what to do. There's no rush. Who knows what wonderful opportunities will pop up by then?”