“I’ve got the wife-beating sonovabitch.”
32
H IPPO AND RYAN JOINED ME.
“This video was shot at Bastarache’s house in Tracadie.” I pointed at the image frozen on the monitor. “You can see totem poles through the window.”
Hippo leaned so close the toothpick jutting from his lips nearly grazed my cheek.
“Beside that funny-looking shed?”
“It’s a gazebo.”
“Why the tom-tom kitsch?”
“That’s not the point.”
Scowling, Hippo rolled the toothpick to the front of his mouth.
“You saw the poles and gazebo on Bastarache’s property?” Ryan asked.
“In the backyard.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I may have also seen the carved bench the girl’s sitting on.”
Straightening, Hippo pointed the toothpick at Ryan and spoke around it.
“Video’s old.”
“Kid’s not.”
“And she’s getting her ta-tas immortalized in Bastarache’s crib.”
“She is.”
“Enough to net him?”
“Enough for me.”
“Probable cause?”
“I think a judge will buy it.”
“I call Quebec City while you chase a warrant?”
Ryan nodded.
When Hippo left, Ryan turned to me.
“Good job, hawk eye.”
“Thanks.”
“You think you can stick with this a little while longer?” Ryan chin-cocked the monitor.
“Indubitably.”
“Good word, that.”
By four, Bastarache was in custody, and Ryan had warrants allowing searches of his apartment and bar in Quebec City. No go on Tracadie, since Bastarache wasn’t living in that house.
Ryan found me in the conference room still plodding through smut. Other than the times I’d stopped to check my home, office, and cell phones for input from Harry, I’d taken no breaks.
“Bastarache’s lawyer was at the jail before the door clanged shut. Outraged. Can you imagine?”
“Is he aware that his client is a child pornographer?”
“She. Isabelle Francoeur. According to Francoeur, Bastarache is about to be short-listed for the Order of Canada.”
“Did he walk?”
“Francoeur’s working on it. QC cops say they can hold him for twenty-four. Then it’s charge him or kick him.”
“What happens now?”
“Hippo paws through Bastarache’s shorts while I engage him in verbal discourse.”
“You’re going to Quebec City?”
“Hippo’s pulling the car around now.”
“I want to go with you.”
Ryan looked at me for a very long time, undoubtedly sensing my hidden agenda.
“If your friends are mentioned it’s because
I started to protest, thought better of it. “It’s your bust.”
