“Hi, Donna-Lou. This is my friend Mark. Mark? Donna-Lou.” They shook hands. Becker had gone pink.
“From the city, ain’t you? Nice boots.”
“Thanks,” Becker said.
Otis Dermott, well oiled, came up behind his wife and draped an arm over her solid little shoulders. I knew that the holy rollers generally didn’t approve of drinking and dancing, but maybe Otis and Donna-Lou were an exception. Otis seemed awfully pleased to see me. In the state he was in, he was probably awfully pleased to see anybody at all.
“It’s Susan Kennedy’s Polly. Hello, girl. With a man, eh?”
“Otis,” Donna-Lou said.
“You look familiar,” Otis said, squinting at Becker. “I seen you before?”
“I’m not from around here,” Becker said.
“Ain’t I seen him before?” Otis asked his wife.
“Nice to meet you both,” Becker said and moved away into the crowd.
“Yeah. See you later, eh?” I said, then followed him.
“I’d rather not stay too long,” Becker said.
“We’re just checking in to say hi. George invited us. Courtesy call, that’s all. I take it you don’t want to be recognized.”
“That’s right. I may need to question some of these people later.”
“Wouldn’t they be more likely to talk if they knew you out of uniform?”
“Let’s just find Mr. Hoito and his lady, okay?”
I picked out George and Susan, sitting at a table crowded with empty glasses near the band. Their heads were close together and their gazes were locked. They just had to be doing it.
The band started playing an old country favourite, suitable for stomping around to, and the dance-floor filled quickly, blocking my view.
“We might as well have a beer while we’re here. You want one?” Becker’s face was very close to my ear, and it startled me. “Hey, you okay?” he said.
“Yup. I’d love a beer. Thanks. Shall I meet you over there?”
“Where are they?”
“The table next to the band on the right. George’s hair is directly below a blue stage light, so he’s kind of glowing. You can’t miss him.”
“I’ll be over. You know where the washrooms are?”
“Downstairs in the basement. Make noise going down, eh?”
“Why. Are there snakes?”
“Sort of. You’re off duty, right?”
“Absolutely.”
I waded through the crowd, dodging the twirlers and stompers as best I could. When I reached George and Susan’s table, they were gone, but their jackets were still there, so I guessed they must be up jumping around. I don’t care for dancing, myself. I always feel cumbersome and very aware of how silly we all look.
Then George and Susan danced by the table, laughing and looking radiant, not the least bit silly at all. I guess it’s how you feel when you’re doing it that counts.
When the music ended they returned to the table, holding hands. When they saw me they smiled and didn’t let go, so it was out in the open, at least.
“Where’s the fellah?” Susan said. “George said you might drop by with a gentleman caller. He wouldn’t tell me who it was.” I glanced at George, surprised.
“Why not?” I said.
“He just said you had a date with a government man,” she said. “Who is he? It’s not like I have anything against civil servants, not that I have any say in the matter anyway. Incidentally, George has told me that you know that we hid Francy’s whereabouts from you. I’m sorry about that, Polly, but you must remember that we’re dealing with the police. They’re a nasty, brutish, impolite lot, and it’s best to have no dealings with them at all.”
“One round coming up,” Becker said, setting down four beers. “Ms. Kennedy, good to see you again. Mr. Hoito, how are you?” My aunt had been speaking loudly, in order to be heard above the music. Her eyebrows did a beautiful double-take, but she recovered quickly.
“Why, Detective Becker. What a surprise. Drinking on duty are you?” I think she meant it as a joke.
“I’m not working right now, ma’am,” Becker said. “Here. It’s Canadian.” He handed her a plastic glass of beer.
“Oh. Thank you kindly. But I must excuse myself for a moment first. Polly? Coming?” I came. I know a summons when I hear one. I plunged through the crowd after her, and she slipped her arm through mine.
“What on earth are you doing? This is your gentleman caller? An Ontario Provincial Police officer? You must be off your head. No wonder George wouldn’t tell me.”
“He’s a nice man, Susan,” I said.
“Hmmmph.”
Susan started hissing at me after we’d peed for appearance’s sake and were washing our hands at the sink.
“I think it’s very foolish, considering your lifestyle, to think for a moment that you’ll have anything in common other than sex. He’s good-looking, I’ll give him that, but he’s a policeman, Polly. A copper.”
A young woman burst into the washroom at a run, followed closely by three or four friends. She made a bee-line for the wheelchair toilet and proceeded to vomit loudly into the bowl.
“What about you?” I said, turning back to Susan after assessing the situation and deciding that the girl didn’t need another witness. “You and George don’t have much in common either. Yet it’s obvious that you’re getting physical. What’s wrong with sex?”
“Nothing at all. With the right person.”
“And do you think that George is the right person for you?”
“Why? Do you think he isn’t?”
“I bet you fifty bucks the guys are having the exact same conversation right now,” I said.
They weren’t. We came up to find that the bar and the dance-floor had emptied. The musicians had stopped playing and were standing together behind the lead microphone, as if they were discussing whether or not to join everybody else outside in the entrance way.
There was a fight going on, and it sounded big.
Twenty
When you want to know the colour of the night, girl,
ask the band.
—Shepherd’s Pie
“What's going on?” I called over to the band.
It was loud outside. One of the musicians answered, but I couldn’t hear him.
“Sorry?”
The guy stepped up to the mike and spoke into it. The sound-technician had left the setting on reverb, and it sounded like the voice of God.
“We just finished a song and someone screamed real loud over by the door and then all hell broke loose. People swinging punches. Place cleared like a loose bowel. Pardon me, ma’am.” Behind him, the rest of the band snickered manfully. We headed for the door.
A wall of people jammed the exit. There was the smell of adrenaline in the air and the crowd was pressing in to