Free Maid of the Mist by Colin Bateman Page B

I would. Just to make sure she was fucking dead.'
    They cackled; the barman pushed himself off the crates, wiped at an eye and said: 'Fucking bullshit,' and went down to serve the octogenarian jocks.
    'She told me all this. Sure,' Tarriha said to Madeline, then angled his bottle at the bar, looking for another. Corrigan waved down to the barman, holding up two fingers. Madeline hadn't touched hers.
    'Well, if she died going over the Falls, how does she know that the village was saved?'
    '
I
know that the village was saved.'
    'Uhuh.' Madeline looked doubtful. 'So what date was this, about? I need historical verification, I need. . .'
    Corrigan rolled his eyes. 'Madeline, please. There aren't dates, there aren't records. . . Tarriha, tell me if I'm wrong, but it's like a myth, isn't it? It's an old Indian story about the evil diseases white men brought to America, and this girl has gone over the Falls to protest at. . .'
    'You mean it's an AIDS allegory?' Madeline asked.
    Corrigan shrugged. 'Could be anything. AIDS. Indian rights. Pollution. Drugs. Nike Air Jordans. It doesn't matter; that's what you're looking for, isn't it? A good story.'
    Tarriha shook his head slowly. 'You do not listen. Allegory. Huh. I have spoken to her. I spent the night in her room. She is Lelewala. Her body, her spirit, her broken heart.'
    'Uhuh,' said Madeline.
    'OK,' said Corrigan, 'supposing for the moment that she is. Why did she come back? What did she say?'
    'Because there is a great evil. . .'
    'But what is it? Specifically. Why would she suddenly . . .'
    Tarriha suddenly slapped his hand on the bar. 'She doesn't know! All she knows is that she was sacrificed so that a great evil would leave her village. And all she knows is that she has come back because some great evil is walking this land again.'
    'Can't she be a little more specific?' Madeline asked. 'Animal, vegetable or mineral? Is it President Keneally or Spike Lee or . . .'
    Tarriha's eyes narrowed. 'You mock me,' he said.
    Madeline's eyes narrowed back. 'On the contrary,' she said, her voice suddenly razor-sharp, 'I think you mock me.'
    She pushed herself up off the barstool and lifted her bag. She looked from Tarriha to Corrigan and back. 'I never heard so much . . . hokum. I don't know why you've cooked this bullshit up between you or who you're hoping to fool, but it's not me, and it's not my station. There is a story, a damn good story, but this sure as hell isn't it. I think you know what it is and you're trying to hide it.'
    Corrigan raised placatory palms. There was nothing flirtatious about her manner now. 'C'mon, Madeline, we're not trying to hide anything . . .'
    She wasn't having it. She grabbed her bag off the bar. 'I'll find this Lelewala or whatever her name is, and I'll get the real story, OK? I don't need bullshit time wasters like you two, OK? I don't need it.'
    She flounced off down the bar. Corrigan slipped a hand into his pocket, searching, then called down the bar after her.
    She stopped. 'What?'
    'Here's five dollars for the cab.'
    'Fuck off!'
    And she was gone, with the old guys whistling and whooping after her.
    Corrigan almost followed. He got to the point of finishing his drink, wiping his mouth, nodding down at Tarriha. But then he stopped, sat and ordered another drink for each of them. Tarriha grunted in quasi-appreciation.
    'What do you do with a woman like that?' Corrigan asked.
    Tarriha nodded thoughtfully for a few moments, then said: 'Big stick.'

17
    He had a few beers on him by then, so he went home.
    Not home, but home.
    Nicola opened the door to him. She smiled as best she could. Aimie ran out and up into his arms and he hugged her and she hugged him back and then complained about the stubble on his chin and the beer on his breath. She was out of his arms and away running into the back garden before he was even through the door.
    'I worry about her attention span,' Corrigan said.
    Nicola led him into the lounge. She seemed relaxed, but swollen.