Free Honour Among Men by Barbara Fradkin Page B

course of the hour. The man next to him struck up a conversation at one point, and the two of them got pretty chatty. When they got up to go to a table in the corner, that’s apparently when the confrontation took place.”
    â€œWhat did this third man say about him afterwards?”
    â€œClaimed he didn’t know him, they just talked about the news on TV .”
    â€œDid you think he was lying?”
    â€œIf I recall correctly, I did. But I don’t know why.”
    â€œWho was he? Local?”
    She signalled to Jim and ordered two coffees. She seemed to be using the diversion to search her memory. “If I remember, he gave a fake ID . Lots of people do, when they don’t want to get dragged into an ugly investigation of a bar fight. And this was a strip club, remember. Wives and bosses might take a dim view.”
    â€œStill, couldn’t he even give you the first name of the assailant?”
    His skepticism must have showed, because for the first time a trace of irritation flickered across her face. “Listen, I investigated this case for months. I interviewed and reinterviewed dozens of witnesses, checked every hotel in Halifax and Dartmouth, and turned over every rock looking for the man. If he could have been found, I would have found him. We couldn’t even work up a decent composite of him, because the witnesses were all so contradictory.”
    He held up a soothing hand, impressed by her vehemence. At that moment Jim arrived with their coffees, and they both took some time out to add cream and sugar. On the wharf nearby, seagulls squabbled over a scrap of fish, and from the harbour came the mournful blast of a distant ship’s horn. McGrath sipped her coffee and shook her head slowly back and forth, as if caught up in the memories.
    â€œSome cases just stick in your craw, eh?” he said gently.
    She watched the gulls in silence a moment before replying. “It was such a pointless, brutal act. Not the bar fight. Men have been beating each other senseless since they first fermented the grape. It’s just that things were starting to turn a corner for Daniel. He didn’t deserve this, and neither did his fiancée.”
    â€œYou said earlier that she thought the fight had something to do with the past. Did you find anything useful in his past?”
    â€œI went through it with a fine-toothed comb. It’s all in the files, but nothing jumped out at me. He was a tough, blue collar kid who was reportedly a bit wild as a teenager, but there was nothing in the RCMP or local police files. He joined the reserves because he liked uniforms and guns, and—”
    Her cellphone rang. She checked the call display and made a face before answering. Her expression was deadpan as she listened, her eyes fixed on a distant freighter being tugged into harbour. “Yes, sir, we’re on our way,” she said and disconnected.Tossing back the remains of her coffee, she shoved back her chair. “We’d better get back. Inspector Norrich is anxious to meet you. We can check the details of Daniel Oliver’s background in the files at the station.”

    Norrich was waiting for them in the incident room, seated at a long conference table with the case files spread open around him. His massive frame overflowed the molded plastic chair, and his face had a bruised, purple hue that Green recognized all too well. When he struggled to his feet and lumbered forward to shake hands, Green detected the unmistakable whiff of booze.
    â€œMike! Leo Norrich. Welcome to the finest town in all of Canada.”
    Green tugged his hand free from the meaty grip and smiled dutifully. “You may convince me yet.”
    â€œYour first visit?”
    Green nodded.
    â€œThen you must come over for dinner tonight. Annie and I will show you what real down east hospitality is all about.”
    Green was conscious of Kate McGrath standing beside him. Norrich had barely acknowledged