— Sounds good to me, said Stan.
— You seem distracted, Dad.
— I’m just woolgathering.
— Okay …
— When you were Louise’s age there was only the one public school in town, said Stan. Do you remember?
— River Street P.S. Sure, I remember.
— And do you remember if your school friends knew who I was?
— What made you think of this now?
— Nothing.
— There weren’t as many cops in town back then, so yes, my friends knew what my dad did. But I don’t think it ever really came up in public school. High school was a bit different. I started to hear more about you. There was an old phys. ed. teacher who coached girls’ field hockey. Mr. Pritchard. I remember, after he figured out who I was, he would talk to me about your boxing days. Endlessly. He’d say, Maitland, come here! It didn’t matter how practice was going or what the other girls were doing. He’d go on and on. He talked a lot about Windsor, some guy you fought. Sharkey?
— Sharkey, said Stan. He was a heavyweight from the States. He had quite a good run, had the title for awhile. When we fought, I didn’t beat him. I drawed. I was lucky to do that, even. That was one of my only real big fights. Ha, Pritchard wasn’t even there.
— He talked about it like he was. He must have told me that Windsor story a hundred times. I was only in grade nine or grade ten when I played field hockey. After that, I was more aware of it if I heard things about you. They always said you were a fair cop. They said you didn’t do things by the book but that you were really fair to everybody. That’s not Frank’s way.
— Frank’s a good policeman, Mary. He knows his job inside and out.
— He’s got a lot of ambition for his career.
— Good on him. I never wanted that responsibility. I never thought I was up to it. Anyhow, was it hard for you if there were folks that weren’t so happy about things I’d done?
— Everybody knew about the man that got hung, if that’s what you mean. But nobody talked about it much. Was I even born when that happened?
— You weren’t much more than a baby.
— What makes you think of this now, Dad?
— That family, in particular, had a lot of hard times. Anyhow, never mind. I never wanted to expose you or your mother to any of that.
Mary laughed.
— Oh God. You and Frank, you’ve got that in common.
— What’s that?
— This idea that the women in your life need to be protected all the time.
Stan wandered back into the living room, thinking maybe he’d have a nap. Emily was in the vestibule untying her shoes. Frank hovered around her, trying to make light of whoever it was in the car.
— You should have brought him in for supper, said Frank.
— It’s completely not an issue any more, Dad.
— I’m sorry to hear it. Hey, if you’ve got to insist on dating, how about you get yourself a guy with a better haircut?
— Actually, I’ve got an idea, said Emily. I’m sure I could get one of your rookies to take me out. That one that drove you home yesterday is really cute.
— Hey, said Frank. Listen …
Stan sat down in the recliner next to the cabinet stereo. He brought the footrest up and stretched his legs out. He didn’t want Emily or Frank to see the smile he was wearing. How close he was, suddenly, to laughing outright. He let his head settle back and he closed his eyes.
He snoozed for an hour and was gradual about waking up. By then, the whole house was filled with the deep smell of the roasting turkey. Emily was sitting at the Clarendon upright.
— I hope I didn’t wake you, Grandpa.
— I don’t think you did.
— You were snoring like mad.
— Gentlemen like me don’t snore.
Stan got up from the recliner. He wasn’t sure if she’d been practising or not while he napped, but she put her hands to the keys and began to play “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” In the kitchen, Mary and Louise were preparing the vegetables.
Frank picked at the turkey stuffing. When he saw Stan, he offered him a beer, and the two of them went and sat down in the screened-in porch at the back of the house. Cassius was loping around the yard, sniffing at the bird bath.
— Who was the boy in the car? said Stan.
— Bobby or Billy or something. He’s been around a little bit, but he’s nobody now. Just as well.
— She’s got a good head, Frank. If she’s going to university next year, you’ll have to trust her.
— She’d be young. Just eighteen. It’s still under discussion.
Stan stood up and watched his dog in the backyard. The dog dug under the cedar hedge at the back of the property until Stan called for him to cut it out.
— Stan, said Frank, I want to talk to you about Judy Lacroix. I want to know why you’ve got the interest in her.
— I’m the one who found her, Frank.
— She isn’t the first dead girl you ever found.
— No.
— Stan, I know you might have had a look at the toxicology. I’m not going to make a big deal about it, but I have an idea of who might have showed you. That same person might just have put it back in the wrong place when Len Gleber went to file it. You know you don’t have any official capacity.
— I don’t need to be reminded.
— I know that. I suppose I’m just putting it out there.
— You don’t think Judy was in any kind of situation that was over her head? There was a boyfriend, I heard.
— Yes, said Frank. Gleber interviewed him, the boyfriend. He’s a low-life, Stan. A nobody. And I don’t think he was quite the boyfriend she let on he was. I think he was taking advantage of a girl who didn’t know any better, whenever he felt the need … Matter of fact, though, it surprises me and exasperates me a little that you know about the boyfriend too. How much more do you know?
— That business about the boyfriend is about all of it.
The patio door slid open and Louise came out. She said: Hi Dad, hi Grandpa.
— Grandpa and I are having a discussion, said Frank.
— Supper will be ready in five minutes.
— That’s fine, said Frank. Be sure to knock first next time, you understand?
— Yes, Dad.
Louise went back into the house.
— Judy Lacroix killed herself, said Frank. She was a sad girl who should have been properly looked after, and she wasn’t, and when she couldn’t handle some of the ugliness this world has a way of dumping on people, she went and took her own life.
Stan nodded. He finished his beer. He looked to see what the dog was doing.
— It’s a damn shame that you had to be the one to find her, said Frank. But you did find her and then you made sure the right people were in the right place. Thinking about it that way, I wish anytime a body turns up to the public, it’s a retired cop who finds it. But now you don’t have to worry about it any further.
— I’m not worried, said Stan.
