by R. D. Cain
The plaza was mostly dark, except for street lighting and a few lit Closed signs. There was a pay phone in the corner near the liquor store. Soaking wet, tired and cold, he stood at the pay phone. There was no sign of cops; they must have given up the chase and gone back to waste their time interrogating Whitmore. He dialled a number.
“Hello?” the voice said.
“Carscadden, it’s me.”
8
AT CARSCADDEN’S, NASTOS LAY IN bed, warm, dry and tired. He’d be asleep soon. His body felt heavy, as if it were being pulled back into the bed by a force stronger than gravity: hopelessness. Court was weeks away but if he didn’t get into the habit of sleeping he knew he’d look like a blood-thirsty vampire by the time the jury saw him. Dewar was going to see the toll it was taking on him. There was a lot he could have told Carscadden about his history with her, but he didn’t trust him and he wasn’t sure he ever would. It had been nearly a year since he had seen her last. Things had changed so much.
Eleven Months Earlier
October 30, 2010
NASTOS HAD WALKED INTO JOSIE'S classroom, making no attempt to keep track of the chaos. Thirty grade fours and fives dressed up for Halloween were running around fuelled by sugar, playing games and shouting. From the hallway, he saw her teacher standing at the door. In her early thirties, she was talking to a few parents who had arrived to pick up their goblins and axe murderers. Nastos had arrived at a good time and was not too far from the beginning of the line of parents.
“No, Mr. Jackson,” the teacher said, “it’s not a bother. Emily and David are great kids.”
“You’re the first teacher ever to do this for them, Ms. Liuzzo,” Jackson replied, “and they really appreciate it, so thanks.” Jackson, the single dad, was striking out big time. Ms. Liuzzo shrugged it off — she could smell desperation.
Jackson and his two kids left the company of Ms. Liuzzo. The next parent in line began talking to her. Nastos leaned against the white painted brick wall, waiting his turn. Seeing all of the lone guys in the line-up, Nastos considered that by the end of the year, she probably got more offers for dates than coffee mugs.
Nastos felt a new presence next to him. For all the men there, it was like the centre of gravity had moved from the teacher to someone else.
“Detective Nastos,” a voice said.
He turned to see a woman standing next in line. She was a tall, thin Indian woman in her late thirties. The long black hair curled slightly at her shoulders, then hung down her back. He felt his breathing stop and hold as his eyes scanned her face. It was awkward to see her, so Nastos said the first thing he could think of. “Ang Dewar, long time no see. You have a kid here? When did that happen?”
“I adopted Abby when I was downtown working Appeals.”
“I didn’t even know you were married. Maybe we should have reconnected on Facebook or something. What’s your husband do?”
“My husband, he did his secretary. He’s yesterday’s news.” she replied archly, shaking her head.
“Sorry.” You’re a class act, Nastos.
Dewar paused only briefly. “I’ve got someone else in my life now; it’s all for the best.” Her eyes gently slipped all over Nastos’ face. She suppressed a small smile, noticing the effect she still had on him.
“Do I know him?”
“Her name’s Nicole.” She continued, “She’s great with Abby and Abby’s dad has gotten over the shock. He’s a good dad, so that’s all that matters.”
“Nicole?” Nastos had never heard Dewar say the name before. “And now you live around here?”
“When Matt and I split, he bought me out. I moved in with Nicole about six months ago in West Hill. Matt and I had talked before about how good a reputation this school had, so when her school shut down it was a fast decision to have her transferred. Nicole usually drives her, actually. Last I knew, you were in Etobicoke.”
“Madeleine and I have been here in Port Union for three years now. So you’re working Appeals downtown, right? You’re making quite a name for yourself as far as prosecutors go. You ever going to come uptown and get back on the front line?”
She turned back to the kids acting up. “They rotate us every few years. If a good opportunity comes up, maybe. Otherwise I’d like to stay where I am.”
“Too bad we never ran into each other sooner.”
Dewar smiled like she didn’t believe him. “Are you suggesting we start meeting at the park to have the kids play together?”
Nastos reconsidered. “I don’t think my wife would like that too much. Maybe if you had three eyes and weighed six hundred pounds.”
“She doesn’t trust you?”
“She knows that we dated. To her, if you don’t hate your ex, then a part of you still loves them.”
Dewar paused to think about that. “Do you agree with her?”
“Only when she tells me I have to.” He smiled.
Her attention was drawn to something in the room. She turned her body to match the direction she was looking, and took a sideways step toward Nastos so she was right next to him. Nastos was trying to figure out what was interesting to her. She leaned closer to him, touching his arm, and whispered in his ear.
“See the guy just finishing with the teacher? That’s Judge Montgomery.”
Nastos whispered back to her. “Oh yeah, I did a trial with him last year. He’s kind of old to —”
“His grandson,” she interrupted. Before she could continue, the judge smiled at Dewar and headed over to them. He was a shorter, balding white guy in his early sixties. He moved easily, with a little Spiderman holding his hand.
“Ms. Dewar, how are you?”
“Fine, sir,” she said. “And you?”
“Better, now that I have Spiderman to protect me.” He rested his hand on the boy’s head. “You seem familiar somehow, sir — Thad Montgomery, pleased to meet you.” He extended his right hand to Nastos, who took it reflexively and smiled in return.
“Detective Nastos, sir, Sex Crimes.”
“Oh, I see,” the judge replied. “Well, I guess we should keep this brief then; that’s too bad. If I could impose, though, briefly,” he continued. “If either of you knows of a kids’ clothing store you could recommend for my grandson here, I’d appreciate it. He grows too fast for me to keep up with. I want to grab a few things on the way home. I wish I had been a little more prepared.” His voice trailed off, his eyes glossed over as he felt himself slip into a memory.
“Must be tough on everyone, sir,” Dewar said.
“Well, at least I have Spiderman here to protect me now.”
“Well, there’s a strip mall off Lawson Road,” Nastos offered. “They have everything in there. Kids’ clothes, a pharmacy, a dentist — all right there. It’s pretty handy.”
“I’ll swing by there, thanks. See you two in court.” Montgomery walked slowly, moving his hand to the child’s shoulder.
When Montgomery was far enough away, Nastos asked, “What happened to his daughter?” They remained right next to each other, although the line had moved and they did not have to be so close. Nastos noticed the other men were still making sideways glances at Dewar, admiring her.
“It was a car accident. Some drunk guy crossed the centre line. She burned to death.”
“Holy shit. I have a list of about a hundred people that I wish could take her place.”
“In Sex Crimes, I’m not surprised.”
“Well, that’s the thing. No judge will send someone to jail for life on the word of a four-year-old. We’re lucky to get probation orders.”
Dewar shook her head. They reached the front of the line. They moved ahead again, staying right next to each other, her arm still around his. Nastos couldn’t help but enjoy the touch. They had always felt physically connected to each other. It was just everything else that was a mess.
>
“Which one of these little monsters is yours, anyways?” asked Dewar.
Nastos took a good breath in and straightened up. He surveyed the room quickly. Pointing to the back, he identified his daughter Josie. “See that other Spiderman in the headlock, getting his ass kicked?” Dewar saw the senseless violence of these kids playing.
“That little guy is yours? How cute.” Dewar pointed to a far table. “Abby’s the astronaut colouring at the table.”
Nastos smiled. “No, not the Spiderman, the fairy princess administering the beating, she’s my little angel.”
Dewar couldn’t suppress a smile. “Talk about a chip off the old block, eh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, Detective,” Dewar spoke with a tone of mock admonishment, “this may come as a surprise to you but your reputation precedes you, you know. Clients talk to their lawyers and tell some interesting stories about how you interview people. You beat them up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily believe what those upstanding members of the public have to say. Complaints have been made, but none of them went anywhere. I deal with the worst of the worst, and they try every angle they can to stay out of jail. It’s pretty easy for them to make false allegations against me — it costs them nothing and takes some of the attention from what they’ve done.”
“If you say so.” She shook her head. “Most of those guys deserve a lot more than they get, especially in Sex Crimes. Their own lawyers would be the first to admit it too, after a few drinks of course.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to Josie. Make her testify in court only to watch the guy get away with it? No, thanks. He’d just fall off the face of the earth one day, wouldn’t even make the news.”
“I have no idea what I would do, Nastos, I don’t want to even think about it.”
It was like Josie felt that she was being watched. She scanned the room and when she saw her dad, she came running over to him, hugging him.
Nastos barely had time to crouch down and catch her. “You ready to go there, peanut?” His fingers found her little ribs and tickled their way in for a second.
“Okay, Dad, let’s go.” She stopped at Dewar’s feet and stared up at her without losing her smile. “Hey, are you Abby’s mom?”
Dewar leaned forward, smiling at little Josie. “Yes I am, how did you know?”
“’Cause the boys all say Abby’s mom looks like a movie star and you do.”
Dewar’s smile broadened and she knelt down, matching Josie’s height. “You can come over and visit Abby anytime you want, okay, Josie?”
“Okay,” she said, grinning back to her dad.
Nastos stood up, grasping Josie’s hand as he did so. “We better get out of here, Mom’s waiting, isn’t she, Jo?”
“Yeah, let’s go, Dad.”
“Bye Ang, see you next time.” Nastos smiled.
“See you later, Nastos.”
Josie waved bye-bye with her magic wand as they disappeared down the hallway. Dewar stood, watching the way he carried her, like she was the most important thing in the world. He’d always made her feel the same way. He was something that she wished that life had not taken from her.
9
September 26, 2011
NORTH ARRIVED FIVE MINUTES LATE for his meeting with Madeleine Nastos and was happy to see that she was gracious enough to wait for him. He had changed from his homeless garb and bottle of Scotch to a business suit and briefcase. He walked to the front door of the house, where she stood in the archway.
She was wearing dress pants and a business jacket that was thankfully high enough in the back that he could get a good look at her behind when she turned to unlock the door. She was in her forties, blond, tall and slim. He wondered what the hell she was doing with a guy like Nastos.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, “I’m not used to what the traffic is like in this part of town.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled, “I just got here myself. Mr. Sitler, right?”
“Yes, Sitler,” he smiled. He had forgotten the alias he had provided her office.
She led him through the house in which he of course had no interest. He had all but forgotten about Detective Nastos after he saw the man’s delicious wife. He surmised from her physique that she obviously worked out and that she was either gullible, stupid or naive to show strange men around vacant houses without doing much of an investigation into who they were.
“What’s the kitchen like?” he asked. “I enjoy cooking and entertaining.”
“Let’s go see,” she said. She led him into an open concept kitchen and living room, oblivious to the fact that he was studying and committing to memory every aspect of her appearance. Her long elegant fingers when she reached out for a light switch, her wrists. He fantasized about those hands grazing on his chest and running through his hair. He made note of her full lips when she spoke, barely catching a single word she said. He’d just wait till she was done, then smile when she smiled. He noticed her hips and behind again, when she walked into the living room to flick the light switch. Again she seemed to notice nothing.
He almost felt sorry for her — almost. The sad fact was that what was coming her way she likely in some way deserved, she likely actually wanted. When her husband was gone to jail, she was going to need someone there for her — and North had decided that he was going to be that guy.
“So is this going to be just for you, Mr. Sitler, or do you have a family?”
“I have lady friends in my life, Madeleine, but no one special. I’m still keeping my options open.” He smiled at her and caught the first hint that she felt something unusual about him, probably his raw masculinity, his pheromones, heating up and distributing his scent to her below her consciousness. He read her facial expression as being aroused. Smiling, he asked to see the fireplace.
“You must be thinking of another listing; they don’t have one here.” Her eyes wrinkled in a way he thought was particularly cute. “Having you been dealing with another agent? Are you familiar with implied agency?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t been out with any agents — I must have been thinking about a place I saw on mls. I’ll sign a release if you want; I’ll deal only with you.”
Madeleine produced a form and North signed it, pausing for a moment to remember how to spell Sitler. She showed him the rest of the house, then they spoke briefly outside the front door.
“So you think you’re interested in the neighbourhood, Mr. Sitler?”
It was so nice to hear her call him mister. He let her keep doing it and decided that he wasn’t going to give her a first name. He’d even like her to call him mister when they had sex later. He made a mental note of it. They said their goodbyes and he watched her walk down the street to her car noticing the way her hair wisped back in the wind. He took down her license plate then walked to his own car. Till next time, baby-doll.
NASTOS SAT NEXT TO CARSCADDEN at the defense desk. cleaners must have been through the place the night before — the smell of Pine-Sol was nearly successful in masking the stench of bodily odours that were soaked into the worn, concrete-coloured carpet. Air conditioning was fighting the good fight in a no-winner against stale body heat trapped in a windowless room. The only decorations were the two Canadian flags on either side of a large gold, embossed coat of arms, complete with lions, lances and doves on either side of a shield filled with meaningless symbolism. The dead language again, with its extinct virtues like truth, integrity and equality — virtues that only ever existed in fairy tales or as punch lines to any of humanity’s greatest tragedies. Nastos checked his watch. Let’s get this over with.
Judge Montgomery was watching Dewar with the mild interest only possible in a half-blind man in his sixties. A younger man would not be able to take his eyes off her. He barely held on to
a trace of the Irish accent that made him sound distinguished and deliberate in his speech. He was making notes, typing into his laptop as Dewar spoke; he was straining to keep up with her. Nastos considered whether a half-blind, half-deaf judge was good or bad for them.
“Members of the jury,” Dewar was saying, “the accused is a detective with the Toronto Police Service. Officer Nastos investigated cases of child abuse and child pornography. During one of his investigations, he stumbled on a new suspect. Dr. Irons, the victim in this trial, was alleged to have committed a series of repugnant sexual attacks on children. Officer Nastos did not conclude his investigation; he never arrested the suspect. He never brought him into the station for an interview. Instead, he made a plan: he coerced the victim to go to a secluded area — then,” she went to her desk retrieving a baseball bat, “with this baseball bat, he beat Dr. Irons to death and dumped his body in Cherry Beach. It was slow, torturous, evil. The motivation in this case is possibly the most universally obvious; you could probably even guess it. Officer Nastos’ daughter was one of the alleged victims.”
Nastos saw the jury’s reaction and it wasn’t good. Many were subtly nodding their heads in agreement; it all made sense. Of course, that’s why he did it. Can we vote and go home now?
Dewar allowed them a moment to run those thoughts through their minds, then continued. “He acted out of vengeance, beating to death an unarmed and defenseless man. I don’t mean to portray the victim as anything less than cruel or evil, but Dr. Irons was not convicted of any crime. Our society does not condone the actions of police officers who take it upon themselves to administer the death penalty at their whim.
“That is the issue here in court. In many trials, the defense will try to blame the victim and attempt to justify murder. It is very easy to taint a dead man who can’t defend himself. Let’s focus on the facts of this case. A defenseless man was brutally murdered at the hands of the accused; with forensics and the work of the investigators this will be proven beyond a reasonable doubt.”