Reluctant Detective Read Free

Malone, and a few others for a drink at The Blue Peter, a pub on the ground floor, below Billy’s office. It had been his home away from home.
    At mid-afternoon the pub was nearly empty. The others had already arrived. Anne’s eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark atmosphere, but she pointed herself and Jacqui in the direction of a large round booth in the corner. Mary Anne MacAdam, the pub’s owner, was always careful to keep it unoccupied if she knew they were coming.
    â€œâ€™Bout time you got here,” said Mary Anne. She was mid-forties, freckle-faced, full-figured, and had the confidence of a national bank. “You get behind a horse and buggy out in the boonies?”
    â€œWe just took our time,” said Anne. “It’s really beautiful country out there.”
    â€œWhat can I get ya?”
    â€œWhatever they’re having, I guess, and a Coke for Jacqui.”
    â€œShot and a beer it is then.” And she hurried off to the bar.
    â€œOh God, I should have ordered white wine or something.”
    â€œIt’ll do you the world of good,” said Ben. “But if you have to lay blame, Sparky here is the troublemaker.” He pointed to Dit, sitting in his wheelchair at the open end of the round booth. “You thought he was just another typical Irish guy, but he’s Polish on his mother’s side. Shot and a beer is a national tradition.”
    â€œAnd it’s bad luck to ignore tradition,” added Sarah Solomon, Ben’s wife.
    Mary Anne arrived with the tray of drinks. She placed a shot of rye and a glass of draft beer in front of everyone, including herself, and sat down with them.
    â€œIs someone else coming?” asked Jacqui. She pointed timidly toward the drinks in front of an empty seat.
    â€œThat’s for Billy,” said Dit. “In some countries it’s an Irish tradition.” Then he raised his glass and added, “Here’s to Billy, a good friend, too soon gone.”
    Everyone emptied their whisky tumblers. Anne grimaced and hurriedly downed a mouthful of beer to cut the bite of the liquor.
    â€œGood grief!” Anne said. “The things I endure for tradition.”
    Over the next hour, the conversation centred mostly on stories about Billy. Ben recalled some humorous moments from when he’d partnered with Billy in Ottawa.
    â€œâ€¦ and,” Sarah said to Anne, “you already know that Billy first introduced me to Ben, but did he ever tell you about the circum stances?”
    â€œNo, actually.”
    â€œMe neither,” said Jacqui, suddenly becoming interested.
    â€œWell, Billy had to twist Ben’s arm. Ben was a bit of a ladies’ man in those days. It was a blind date, in fact a double date with Billy and his girlfriend at the time. She was my roommate. Ben didn’t want a blind date, but Billy insisted as a special favour. So he finally gave in. Just before Ben knocked on my door, though, Billy told him that I was an ex-nun, just out of the convent, and that he had to be very, very careful around me. It was a lie, of course. I’m Jewish like Ben is. He was such a gentleman that evening. That’s what first attracted me to him. He didn’t catch on until our second date.”
    â€œI didn’t catch on!” Ben exclaimed. “Neither did you.”
    â€œThat’s true. Billy never told me I was supposed to be a Catholic either,” laughed Sarah.
    â€œI remember Billy telling me that story,” said Dit. “And I couldn’t help thinking afterward that it had to be more than just an elaborate practical joke. Not that he would admit it. But I think he figured you two would make a great couple.”
    â€œDo you think he was right, Sarah? About the ‘great couple’ theory?” Anne asked.
    â€œLet’s see… twenty-four years married… four kids…”
    â€œâ€¦ and no divorce lawyers on speed dial,” added