“Wassup?” he whispered.
“Do’know. There’s something out there.”
They both heard the sound: chink, chink—like a chain. It came from the railroad trail.
Dana reached down and, arching her back, smoothed down her sweater. Tony struggled to recover his composure.
There was the sound again, closer.
“There’s somebody coming along,” Dana whispered.
“Just lie still. Don’t make a sound,” hushed Tony, sliding his left arm under her neck and cradling her breast with his right hand.
In the light of the moon, Dana could see the source of the sound. One large dog on a leash, held by a man, and a smaller dog led by a woman.
She and Tony lay still and close.
The quartet came along the track-bed, right up to the bridge pier, and stopped. They were no more than fifteen metres away. The larger dog sat down as the small one snuffled in the grass.
The man and woman turned to each other and continued their conversation, the man pointing to various features around them, including the wall and the old bridge piers.
Suddenly, the woman leaned forward and kissed the man on the cheek. Somewhat taken aback, the man hesitated for a moment; then, he put his arms around the woman and they embraced, her head against his shoulder.
Dana gasped, then struggled to contain herself as her foot dislodged a small twig.
The dogs stirred and the big one stood up, looking toward the wall. Unaware of being watched, the couple unlocked, turned, and began to walk back along the track-bed from where they had come. The dogs led the way.
“Did you see who it was?” gasped Dana, once the group was out of earshot.
“Yeah,” muttered Tony, disparagingly. “I’m almost sure it was Mr Adkins.”
“Yeah, I know, but it wasn’t Mrs Adkins—did you see who it was?”
“No, I didn’t get a good look at her face.”
“It looked like a woman I’ve seen going into one of the townhouses. She had a little dog, too.”
“She only looked to be in her twenties.”
“Yeah. Sexy old man.”
Tony’s hand slid across Dana’s front. Gently, she stopped him. “No, Tony. Not now.”
“Can’t we?”
“It’s too late.” She smiled at him. “Help me up.”
He obliged. She kissed him and gently stroked his hair.
It was evening, a short while after sunset. Dave and Brutus reached the end of Millerby Lane, to find Kelly standing there as Hamish watered a thistle plant.
“Oh hi, Dave.”
“Hi, Kelly, how are you today?”
“I’m great. Dave, what’s down that old trail over there?”
Dave, flushed with the warmth of the two scotches he’d taken, as a custom, before he and Brutus had set out, did not hesitate. “Let’s go down there, I’ll show you.”
They set off along the old railroad track-bed, Brutus stoically plodding along, Hamish snuffling at every upstanding plant.
“This used to be one of the railroads that came into the Ottawa area from the south. Steam trains used to come chuffing through here long before all the houses were built. I think the tracks were actually still in place when the first folks moved in.”
“That’s fascinating. I’ve always loved steam engines. I liked it when my Dad would take me to one of the train museums. What was this brick wall for?”
“Yes, these old buildings over here were once a thriving brewery. The wasteland back there was a rail yard with sidings, with freight cars bringing in supplies and taking full barrels of beer away.”
“How do you know all this, Dave?”
“I love learning about the history of an area, and if railroads are involved, that’s a double interest.”
“Just like Dad was. If he wasn’t at dog shows or seeking out breeding matches for his West Highland Whites, he was searching out old railroads and digging in museums.”
Kelly was silent for a while as they strolled along, the only sound really being the chinking of Brutus’ chain and the rattle of the clip on Hamish’s leash. Dave felt strangely at ease in her company.
“I noticed what looked like new gates in the brewery wall back there,” Kelly suddenly broke the silence. “That seems odd, if it’s not used now?”
“Oh, yeah, they are very recent. There was a bit of trouble in there last fall, with teens drinking. We contacted the old owner and he paid to have us put the gates on.”
“Old owner?”
“Yeah, lives in Kingston, in his nineties.”
“Cool.”
They had reached the old bridge pier, the end of the trail. Dave waved his arm out toward the water.
“So this is the Otter Brook.”
“As in the street name?”
“Yep. You know, they used to soak the new barrels in this stream—”
Suddenly, Kelly turned and kissed Dave on the cheek.
Dave looked at her, standing there in the half-light, and hugged her closely. Her boobs feel so good, he thought. Her head rested against his shoulder. He sensed a stirring in his groin, a hardening.
How long they stood there, he had no idea. He caught the sound of a twig snapping; the dogs stirred, and he eased back from the hug. Without a word, they all turned and slowly made their way back to the Millerby Lane.
Dave was in turmoil. What the hell is happening?
“That was great, Dave, thanks.” She flashed him a smile, turned, and, with Hamish trotting alongside, headed toward the townhouses.
Dave’s mind was in a real mess now; his whole body was churning. Kelly, Kelly, oh, jeez, what do I do now?
He made his way home, dealt with Brutus’ needs, headed to the basement, and drank half a glass of scotch before flopping into a chair. His head sagged; he heaved himself back up in his chair and took another swig of his scotch.
Bloody hell. How could I have fallen into this mess? he agonized. More to the point, how can I get out of it? What next? I can’t just avoid her; we’re bound to meet in the street. I can’t just have an affair with her—that’s wrong. I don’t want to hurt Barb. Jeez, but just thinking about Kelly now makes me ache. Oh, shit! An’ this on top of everything else—oh, man!
- 10 -
Six months can see a lot of changes, thought Dwayne Hampden as he pottered in his front yard, cutting off the winterkill from his roses. He raised his eyes as he straightened his back and caught the view of the townhouses across the roadway. It’s amazing how they almost look as if they’ve been there for years, he said to himself.
Albez, the builder, had made an effort to blend the new construction with the existing landscape, and had planted a few trees that looked as if they were going to survive. They had bright new leaves now, a good sign.
Most of the townhouses were sold. They had been snapped up in less than two months. Dwayne had heard that some fellow had bought up four of them and was renting them out, but most were occupied by their owners.
Better that way, he thought. People likely will have more respect—don’t want the area going downhill.
Dwayne liked things the way they had been. He was not one for rapid changes, if he could avoid them. ‘Slow and easy’ was one of his favourite sayings. He went back to tending his roses.
The sound of a car engine starting made him look up again. Two houses down, Roger DeLaunais was backing his car off his driveway.
Dwayne straightened his back and gave a wave as Roger drove slowly past, acknowledging with a return wave. Dwayne had plenty of time for Roger: a good steady fellow, he was a master plumber.
Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a squealing of tires, and then shouting. Dwayne turned sharply, and looked up to see people running out of the townhouse parking area into the Gardens roadway.
Roger’s car was stopped in the middle of the road, and a young girl was lying on the road, a few paces in front of the car. A ball was rolling loose.
A crowd of children was gathering as D
wayne started toward the scene. Roger had got out of his car and was squatting down by the girl. A young woman with a little white dog was running over to them, and he could see Barbara Adkins coming along the sidewalk as fast as she could.
A woman came rushing from the townhouses. She took one look at the girl lying on the roadway and started screaming and yelling at Roger, who was clearly taken aback.
As Dwayne reached the scene, the young woman with the dog was stooping over the girl, and at the same time trying to intervene in the confrontation occurring above her.
“Let me take the dog,” offered Dwayne.
The young woman smiled up at him and passed over the leash. “I know First Aid,” she said, gently caressing the girl. “You’re going to be okay, little girl. I’m Kelly, and we’re going to help you feel better.” She was carefully checking the girl.
Barbara had joined the group, and Dwayne gave his attention to the confrontation between the yelling woman and Roger. It was evident that she was the child’s mother, and assumed that Roger had knocked her daughter down with the car. Roger was protesting that he had not.
Dwayne took charge, and moved them a few steps away from the still-unconscious child. “For Pete’s sake, have some common sense. Your child is hurt—deal with that problem before worrying about anything else. Has anyone gone to phone for the police and ambulance?” He had raised his voice for everyone to hear.
“No, but I’m calling on my cell right now,” came an anonymous voice from the gathered crowd.
“Is she going to be okay?” The mother was now showing concern about her child.
“We can’t tell yet,” Kelly said. “She’s breathing okay. Does someone have a coat or a blanket to put over her?”
“Here, take my jacket.” Barbara slipped off her jacket and passed it over. “You know, I saw the whole thing as I was coming round the corner there. Roger here didn’t run into the little girl. She ran out in front of the car and tripped—it’s lucky he could stop before he did run over her.”
“Huh.” The mother was not convinced.
“That is what happened,” confirmed Kelly, as she tried to make the child comfortable without moving her. “I saw everything.”
“Huh, we’ll wait till the police come, and see what they have to say.” The mother lit a cigarette and turned her back on the group.
What a silly woman, thought Dwayne as he unwound the dog’s leash from his legs. Full of accusation, and barely any concern for her child.
Gradually, the gathering of children and other adults was dispersing. A couple of girls about the same age as the injured one hung on, sheepishly waiting on the sidewalk.
Kelly was again tending to the girl, who was stirring. “It’s okay, you’re going to be all right. I’m Kelly, and I’m looking after you right now. Don’t worry, little one.” She looked up toward the mother. “What’s her name?”
“Jeannine.”
“Okay, Jeannine, try not to move. Does anything hurt?”
The sounds of a police car, followed by an ambulance, drowned out any response, as everyone changed stance. The ambulance crew immediately went to tend to the girl, with Kelly briefing them on status. The policeman came over to the others, to be set upon immediately by the mother.
“I’m Connie Weston, officer. This idiot here hit my daughter with his car.”
Roger and the others protested loudly.
“Hold on, now. One at a time. I’ll have to take statements in an orderly fashion. You, sir,” he said, looking at Roger. “Were you driving this car?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Please come with me to my vehicle. I’ll need to …” The sounds were lost as they went from earshot.
Barbara took Dwayne aside and whispered, “He definitely didn’t hit her—I could see it all. The poor thing ran out into the road and tripped. Must’ve hit her head on the pavement.”
“Must say, I don’t think much of her mother, Barb.”
“Me neither.”
They stood and waited. The mother was standing some distance away, smoking and looking pained. One of the ambulance crew walked toward her.
Kelly joined Dwayne and Barbara.
“You did a good job there,” said Dwayne, as he handed back the dog’s leash.
“Thanks, she must have hit her head hard on the road as she fell. I’m Kelly McDowell,” she held out her hand. Dwayne shook it.
“Dwayne Hampden. Say, have I seen you somewhere before?” Kelly looked puzzled.
“Barbara Adkins. You’re new around here, Kelly?”
“Oh, er—hi, Barbara. Yes, I moved into the Mews a few weeks ago.”
“Nice little Highland White.”
“Hamish. Yes, he’s lovable. Aren’t you?” said Kelly, as she stooped and scroffled the dog’s head.
“We have a Malamute, Brutus. You’ve probably seen him around with my husband, Dave.”
“Er, yes. I—er—met Brutus and Dave the other day.”
Roger was coming from the police car, looking shaken. The policeman had gone over to the mother, who was still talking with the paramedic. She returned to the police car with the policeman.
“You okay, Roger?”
“Not really, Dwayne. He grilled me through and through, like I’d hit the kid. I don’t think he believes me.”
“Well I know you didn’t, an’ I’ll tell him straight,” said Barbara vehemently.
“And I saw it all as well,” added Kelly, “and I’ll tell him that too. By the way, I’m Kelly McDowell.”
“Thanks. Roger DeLaunais.”
Dwayne looked about him. The two girls were still on the sidewalk.
Suddenly the door of the police car opened. The mother got out quickly, slamming the door shut, and strode over to the ambulance. One of the crew helped her inside, and in seconds the ambulance was gone.
The policeman came over to the group, pushing his cap back and scratching the top of his head.
“Did any of you others actually witness the incident?”
Barbara raised her hand. “I did.”
“And so did I,” said Kelly.
“Good. Could I talk with you first, please, and then you?” He motioned first to Barbara and then to Kelly. Barbara went with him to his car.
Time was beginning to drag now. Dwayne had not actually seen the accident, and so was not a witness, but he felt an integral part of the whole incident.
Clearly, the mother was convinced that Roger had hit the child, but Dwayne had known Roger for so long that if Roger said he had not done so, Dwayne believed him. He felt he needed to stay around to support Roger. Anyway, both Barbara and this Kelly said that Roger was in the clear.
Come to think of it, I didn’t actually see the girl fall, and as the mother arrived only moments before I reached the spot, how on earth could she know what actually happened?
Barbara returned. Now it was Kelly’s turn. Dwayne took the leash again; not that he normally looked after dogs, but it seemed to have become his automatic responsibility as Kelly’s deputy. He smiled to himself at the thought.
“Seems a nice young lady,” he said, once Kelly was in the police car.
“Yes, seemed to know what she was doing with the little girl,” agreed Barbara.
“Pretty, too,” commented Roger.
Barbara stooped to fuss the dog. “There’s a good boy. She’ll be back in a minute or two.”
Soon, Kelly returned. As she rejoined the group, the policeman walked past them to the two girls, still hovering on the sidewalk. He squatted down in front of them, bringing his face to the level of theirs.
Dwayne watched as the policeman talked with the girls. They were obviously very self-conscious.
Suddenly the policeman stood up, patted them both on the shoulder, and walked over to the group. “Sorry for all the trouble, folks. I do have to get all the facts and talk to the witnesses. Mr DeLaunais, you are quite free to go. You clearly were not the cause of the child’s misfortune. Thank you all for your
patience. Good day.”
“Thanks.”
“Bye.”
They watched the police car depart. Roger shook his head.
“Just take it very gently now, Roger. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be okay, thanks, Dwayne. Just sets you back a bit, though.” He climbed into his car and started the engine.
Kelly gathered her dog. “Bye, then.”
“Bye, Kelly, see you around.”
“Bye.”
Dwayne and Barbara wandered slowly across to the sidewalk. “Well, I guess we’ve got younger kids in the area again. They need somewhere to play, I s’pose.”
“But not in the roadway, Dwayne, eh?”
Dwayne nodded.
Thwack—zing—thwack.
Taken by surprise, Dwayne turned toward the sounds, coming from the same area as the accident. He could see a youth with a baseball glove now standing in the middle of the roadway.
Zing—thwack. A ball appeared from deep in the parking area, straight into the waiting gloved hand. The youth took the ball into his other hand and wound up for the return throw. Zing—a quieter thwack, out of sight. And so it continued, back and forth.
Dwayne shook his head. Well did he know the pleasures of playing catch; he’d played it often enough when his kids were young. But in those days the road was much safer, he thought. Now, with the extra traffic, somebody’s going to be hurt.
“See you, Dwayne.”
“Bye, Barbara.” He turned and walked back up to his rose bushes, wondering what the next disturbing event might be.
- 11 -
The Trans-Am rounded the corner from Millerby Lane and eased into the Mews parking area, coming to rest in the third parking spot. The driver quickly jumped out and, handing himself off the trunk lid, leapt round to open the passenger door with a mock salute.
Jane Stennings, with a decorous smile and a nod of acknowledgement, stepped out and promptly gave her husband Graham a friendly punch in the stomach.
He grinned. “What was that for?” he protested.
“’Cause I love you.”
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