One or the Other by John McFetridge Page B

Dougherty was thinking how much it reminded him of the staircase at the Wagon Wheel, upstairs from the Blue Bird where there’d been a fire a few years back, a lot of people died, thirty-seven. Dougherty was there that night.
    â€œSo they don’t find the guy, but then they’re leaving, they’re by the door, and some guy says to them, ‘Leave it alone,’ you know.”
    The guy behind the counter put a paper cup with a plastic lid on it in front of Dougherty and said, “On the house, Detective.”
    â€œThere was another guy at the table and a woman, too, and Levine says to them, ‘Leave what alone?’ you know, like he doesn’t know. And the guy says to him, ‘The Brink’s thing, leave it alone.’”
    â€œAre the two guys brothers?” Dougherty said.
    â€œYeah, you know them?”
    â€œO’Donnells, I bet. The woman is Sharon McClusky.”
    â€œIt’s O-something,” Paquette said. “A couple of other guys shoved Gagnon out the door, knocked him down the stairs, and then they jumped Levine.”
    â€œShit.”
    â€œBusted a couple of beer bottles over his head, slashed his face with the broken pieces.”
    â€œFuck.”
    â€œBy the time the backup got there they were all gone. But Levine knew them.”
    â€œHe’s okay?”
    â€œLot of stitches on his face, fractured skull, concussion. They took him to the General.”
    â€œNot the Jewish General?”
    â€œI guess they saw he was a cop, they didn’t think.”
    Dougherty had really been kidding but, of course, it wasn’t a situation to be kidding about. “He still there?”
    â€œOh yeah,” Paquette said, “he’ll be there for a while.”
    â€œAnd now we’re going to go get the O’Donnell brothers and Sharon McClusky.”
    â€œIf that’s who it was.”
    â€œWell, if they didn’t do it they’ll know who did by now,” Dougherty said. He picked up his coffee and started out of the restaurant, saying, “Thanks, boss,” to the guy behind the counter.
    Outside on St. Jacques, walking past the big bank buildings with their big pillars and stone walls, Paquette said, “Hey, did you hear about the Brink’s car?”
    â€œWhat now?”
    â€œNo, it was a couple weeks ago. Brink’s have an unmarked car they use for patrols in the neighbourhood but it was in an accident, a fender-bender.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œThey never got it fixed, said it would cost too much.”
    â€œYeah,” Dougherty said. “Would it have cost two and a half million dollars?”
    Paquette laughed.
    Dougherty was thinking if they didn’t get the money back it was another piece of evidence they’d use to try to claim it was a well-planned job pulled off by professionals brought in from out of town.
    â€œAnyone talk to the driver again?”
    â€œSte. Marie, every day. Guy isn’t changing his story.”
    Dougherty was thinking they all thought it was a story, no one really believed the guy, and then he was thinking how much more plugged in Paquette was, how much closer he seemed to the top guys on the special squad.
    They walked without saying anything for a block, and then Dougherty said, “You married?”
    â€œWhy,” Paquette said, “you asking me on a date?”
    Dougherty didn’t want to say, No, I’m just trying to figure out how such a useless brown-noser like you gets promoted, but then he thought he was being too hard on the guy — Paquette wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just in the right place at the right time. And maybe he had the right kind of last name.
    â€œYeah, I’m married,” Paquette said. “We have a baby on the way, another month or so.”
    â€œCongratulations.”
    They were in front of the bank building then and Paquette said, “It’s going to mess up my summer