Free An Ordinary Decent Criminal by Michael Van Rooy Page B

movement. They peck when I even think about moving but that’s not real. That’s just psychology.”
    I got up and did the whole routine all over again. Claire watched and wrestled with Fred for a bit and the sun just shone down.
    When we were back in my room, Claire saw an audio tape on the bed and handed it to me along with a note that read “LISTEN TO ME.” When asked nicely, the peppermint nurse lent me someone’s portable stereo and I listened to a conversation caught in the middle.
    “Be it ever so humble.”
    It was Claire speaking dryly and politely and it was a good recording.
    “Could be worse.”
    That was Thompson and then he grunted and repeated, “Could be worse.”
    Sounds of glasses and ice and liquid coming through very clear and then Claire spoke up. “Here, I’m not gonna drink alone.”
    Clinking sound like a toast and then Thompson, “Lawyers’ lunch.”
    The sound of another drink, maybe two being filled.
    “How bad is it?”
    “Seen worse, seen better. The Crown should know something’s bush about it all and, well, maybe they’ll do the right thing.”
    “And . . . ?”
    “Then they’ll drop the charges. Or they’ll come on hard, depending on local politics, and then we’ll go to appeals and the Crown will continue to press hard or let us go. If they press hard, then we go to the provincial Court of Appeal. Beyond that there’s the Supreme Court, where I’ve never been.”
    Thompson kept speaking and I could hear him drinking. “That’s simplified but basically true. The Crown can drop the case now, or during the preliminary hearings, or in the court during the case, or during appeals, or during re-appeals or anywhere else that seems good to them.”
    There was a long pause and then he went on, with his voicesounding progressively slurred. “We’ve only got to win once. They’ve got to win every single time.”
    She spoke up, still dryly, still without passion. “Monty used to say the whole system was like a starfish. Once it started eating you, it couldn’t stop, it was built to start eating and its very nature prevented it from stopping. The whole thing was to avoid getting tasted in the first place.”
    “Yeah. The system can’t afford to stop once it starts, they can’t afford to admit they make mistakes. My dad was in the army and he used to say, ‘Never complain, never explain.’ It applies to the law too.”
    More drinking.
    “Been hearing some stuff about Sam. Rough stuff. Bad stuff. Doesn’t match what seems to be happening. Married, straight, and respectable. He even has a baby son, who is where by the way?”
    “I left him with a friend.”
    “I thought you had just come into town, you found a friend that quick? Did you know someone here before?”
    “No. A woman called Ramirez is watching Fred. She’s one of the cops who arrested Sam. We both have kids and started talking when I tried to go down to the station house and Sam was on his way to the hospital. She thinks I’m okay. Just making some bad choices.”
    “Well, shave my ass, a cop. See, this is a nice town, lived here all my life and I can definitely say it’s a nice town. So which one is the real Sam? Married? Straight and true? Respectable? Thief? Killer? Drug addict? Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy?”
    Claire laughed. “He was one and now he’s the other. I’ve got to go. Thanks for the drinks.”
    There was a gasp, a female one. Then the sound of kissing and the sound of cloth on cloth, then skin on skin.
    I looked across at Claire, who was sitting on the chair at the end of the bed and bouncing Fred on her knee.
    The sound of skin on skin kept coming, then the sounds of more kissing, then gasps and the creaking of a bed, moans, sighs, gasps.
    Across the room, Claire was chucking Fred under the chin and making him laugh. On the tape, the noises petered out and then I heard Claire again. “Well, keep in touch. Anything you need, just give me a call.”
    Thompson, his voice completely