Incidents in the Life of Markus Paul Read Free

He had heard many things about this Roger Savage already—not of any substantive criminal nature, but of a man who kept to himself and did not like others, and who had threatened men to stay off his land.
    Roger sat in the front seat, the window rolled down halfway.
    “Did you hook, or did George Morrissey?” Constable Drew asked, looking down at his notebook.
    “George hooked—I was just wasting time,” Roger said. His voice was unusually quiet and powerful. Drew told him nothing was being suggested but not to leave the area until the matter was cleared up, because the leaners, the two brothers who were drunk, had said he had hooked. And there had been some confusion in the hold when the load dropped, and no one was sure at the moment if the load was hooked wrong or had hit the side—which meant that either the crane operator had made a mistake or the man who hooked on did. The Monk brothers did not want to blame anyone. But they themselves had been close to death, and Roger, some said, had been hanging around suspiciously.
    “What do they mean, suspicious?” Roger asked.
    “Well, do you think it was suspicious that you were hanging around?” Constable Drew asked.
    Roger shook his head. “No, not at all,” he said. “I work there. The leaners are there every day, drinking and picking up what they can, and no one calls them suspicious.”
    He should not have said that and he knew it. But the very word
suspicious
allowed him a glimpse into what was in store. That is, he knew in his heart it was really not at all suspicious, yet suddenly his answer had made it so.
    He went back into the house, went to the attic and began to shake, violently. He was in a bad spot. He had always felt people did not like him. Now they would have reason not to.
    Also, he had told them George had hooked, because it was George’s union card that was at stake, not his. But to say George had hooked, even to keep George’s union card secure, put Roger in a terrible light if George recanted and those two leaners told on him. So he realized what was now too late to take back. He could not now tell the truth, saying he was lying only to protect someone else.
    Roger’s shaking lasted well into the first night. Then he became aware that he must pull himself together. At some point he decided to offer money he had saved for the house and the siding for Hector’s funeral.
    On the second night of the wake, Roger walked into the funeral parlour. Young Markus Paul was standing near the front and saw the change in atmosphere when Roger entered. It became one of suspicion and dislike. No one this disliked could be unaware of the fact. The air was filled with the scent of oak and flowers, and people were lined up at both doors. The coffin was closed, and would remain so.
    “Penniac’s dead and you’re alive,” one boy said when he and his friends noticed Roger at the side door. He said it in Micmac, not thinking Roger would understand. But Roger did. He knew Micmac well enough. The youngster was hushed by the chief, Amos Paul, and told to show respect.
    Later that night, after he went home, Roger drank a pint of rum by himself and fell into a twitching slumber, from which he woke periodically. He drank often, and always on his own.
    It was a terrible thing to have happened. And that Indian boy was right—he, Roger, was alive and Hector was not. So he felt he had to do something, and one thing to do was to offer money for the funeral.
    Isaac Snow and Joel Ginnish held a meeting that night. Joel was not supposed to be on the reserve because of the trouble he caused. But his half-brother’s death had led to a change in attitude toward him. Not only was he once again accepted, but his presence seemed valuable and desired, and his mother was comforted by him.
    Both Isaac Snow and Joel Ginnish were certain they had to do something. The fact that they were seen together—one a politician, one an outlaw, both of them unquestionably brave—did not go