Children in the Morning (33 page)

Dale Bekkers, a Crown prosecutor, polished off a pint of ale and joined the argument in progress: “I still maintain that deterrence is a legitimate goal in sentencing. It’s not only about punishment.”

Beau, speaking for the defence, said: “Dale, you speak of deterrence as if the average offender sits back and performs a cost-benefit 212

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analysis before slashing buddy with a knife and stealing buddy’s sneakers or his car or his stash of drugs. This shouldn’t be news to you, ladies and gentlemen of the Crown: most crimes are done on impulse. These people don’t think, they don’t weigh the options.

Never mind how many times they’ve been hauled to court before, never mind how they just got probation this afternoon and their actions will constitute a violation of their probation order, never mind how the small amount of cash they grab will be gone before the night’s out. We’re dealing with repetitive, impulsive, irrational behaviour. It’s always been that way, it always will be.”

The Crown attorney laughed, and responded: “Listening to you, Beau, I get the impression you’re ready to cross over to our side of the courtroom. Bid farewell to all those flaming liberals who make up the defence bar, and start prosecuting the evildoers who make your life such a living hell! Come on, cross the floor. In your heart of hearts, you know you want to.”

Another prosecutor chimed in: “Dale, you can’t believe defence lawyers like Beau, or Monty here, are really liberals, not with what they see every day of their lives.”

Beau tipped a glass of whiskey up and drained it in one go, then leaned forward and said: “The liberal world view died on the blood-stained fields of World War One. We just can’t bring ourselves to bury the corpse.”

One of the other defence lawyers, Jamie McVicar, looked at Delaney in astonishment: “Whoa! That’s a little extreme, Beau. I mean, here we still are, trying to —”

Beau made a dismissive gesture with his left hand and interrupted his fellow barrister: “Jamie, the slaughter in the First World War trans-formed the way the human species sees itself. Rational man? Human progress? Optimism about the future of human society? Forget about it. All blown away in the shit-filled, lice-infested trenches of northern Europe.
Europe
, where the Enlightenment began. Irrationality, violence, conflict, barbarity. It’s always there beneath the surface. It can erupt at any time, in any place. Don’t take my word for it. Read Hobbes. Read Freud. Before the war, what did Freud think was the primary force driving human existence? The erotic instinct, the life force. The savagery of the war compelled him to rethink his beliefs 213

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about human nature. To wonder whether civilization was even possible. He began writing of the death instinct in man. He said the war had ‘let the primeval man within us into the light.’”

“Yet you’ve spent your entire professional life defending that primeval man and trying to ensure he remains free to walk upright amongst us!” Dale Bekkers retorted.

“Hey!” What could have been a smile jolted across Delaney’s face.

“It pays the bills.”

“Come on, Beau. There are other ways for a showboat like you to make money.”

“They need me, Dale. Just like they need Monty, and Jamie. Impulsive, irrational, uncivilized creatures need all the help they can get.

I’m here to provide it.”

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Chapter 16

(Monty)

I wasn’t going to relax about the Delaney acquittal until the thirty-day deadline for filing an appeal had passed. Two weeks to go. The Crown attorneys could not appeal the jury’s verdict just because they didn’t like it, but they could appeal if they found any legal errors committed by the judge. If they were successful, Delaney would be tried all over again. I didn’t think Ken Palmer made any errors, but then I wasn’t looking for any, the way Gail Kirk would be. Until that deadline had safely passed, I would be on guard for anything that might look bad for Delaney if a new trial were ordered.

This was Sunday, however, so I would put those concerns aside for the time being. The choirs at St. Bernadette’s took turns singing at the eleven o’clock Mass on Sunday mornings. Sometimes it was my group, the St. Bernadette’s Choir of Men and Boys, sometimes it was the girls and boys from the choir school, and occasionally it was the adults from the Schola Cantorum Sancta Bernadetta, which attracted religious and lay people from all over the world. This Sunday, it was a combination of the men and boys and girls, so Normie and I had 215

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a gig together. Maura and the baby, Tom and Lexie were in the con-gregation. We did Palestrina’s
Missa Papae Marcelli
, one of my favourite works, and we did justice to it, if I may say so.

Our priest and choirmaster pronounced himself satisfied — even pleased — with our efforts. He stood at the back of the church saying goodbye to people on their way out. Maura, with the baby in her arms, stopped to chat, and I joined them. Dominic smiled and stretched his hands out to the priest. A sentiment that I couldn’t read flitted across Burke’s face; then he smiled back and took one of the pudgy little hands in his.

“Aren’t you a fine Catholic lad, Dominic?”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight, Father? We haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been slacking off in your parish visits?”

Right. She said he had not been around for a while. I wondered why not. Well, I wasn’t about to ask.

“Thank you, Mrs. MacNeil,” Burke replied. “You’re most kind.

But I have other plans for dinner tonight.”

Whoa! What was that about?

“You’ve had a more promising invitation? Something better than my home cooking? Surely I didn’t hear you correctly, Father.”

“You heard only the preliminaries, madam. I’ll be doing the cooking myself.”

“Well! I must really have botched things in the kitchen last time.”

“Not at all, at all. Mike O’Flaherty and I have the place to ourselves.

In the usual course of things, we can’t even set foot in the kitchen without inducing heart fibrillations in Mrs. Kelly. But she’s out of town visiting her sister. Why don’t the crowd of youse join us for dinner?”

“I’ll bring a vat of wine,” I offered, “as long as I’m not expected to quaff it all myself.”

“Oh, you’ll be ably assisted there, I’m thinking.”

(Normie)

We got invited to the priests’ house for dinner. They were going to cook all by themselves! Tom and Lexie couldn’t come so it was me and Dominic, Dad and Mum.

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I’ve hardly ever seen Monsignor O’Flaherty without his black suit and collar on, but this time he was wearing light brown pants made of corduroy, like the ones I have, and a bright green sweater. He made a big fuss over the baby in his stroller, and wheeled him into the dining room. He told us Father Burke was busy with his chores in the kitchen but would be out of there soon. Which he was. He had on a pair of jeans and a black sweater with flour spilled down the front of it. He was carrying plates of pasta with delicious-smelling sauce.

Daddy said: “You didn’t make the pasta yourself, surely.”

“No. Made the sauce though, Monty.”

“Just wondering about the flour.” Dad pointed at his sweater.

“Ah. I made the dessert. Chocolate cake, with a bit of Baileys in the icing.”

I said: “Ooh! I love Baileys!”

They all turned around and gawked at me. “And how do you know what Baileys Irish Cream tastes like, little one?” Daddy asked me. “Being ten years short of drinking age.”

“I got into it by accident one day. I didn’t know what it was.”

“Oh, yeah, the old accident defence again.” They all looked at Daddy. “But enough about that. Let’s eat.”

We settled down to our dinner. The food was good and there was lots of funny talk. “Isn’t this great
craic
now?” Monsignor O’Flaherty said. “We should do it more often, I’m thinking.”

“We should,” Dad and Mum both said at the same time.

That’s when we heard a big loud bang. I jumped and spilled my milk. Somebody was hammering on the dining room window. We peeked outside and saw a person staring in. The grown-ups all got out of their chairs, but Father Burke waved at them to sit back down.

“You people enjoy your dinner. I’ll deal with this.”

Mummy made a joke: “Maybe it’s a commando raid by Mrs.

Kelly. Rumours reached her that you and Mike were using the stove by yourselves!”

“If that turns out to be the case, I’m sending you out to handle her. I won’t be able for it.”

But he went to the back door and opened it. He said something, then a woman’s voice screeched at him. It sure wasn’t Mrs. Kelly, unless she had turned into the type that curses and swears in a loud rude voice!

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Daddy excused himself from the table and went to the door. We all scooted out after him to see what was going on. Mummy put her hand up to stop me from going, but I pretended I didn’t see her. Out in the parking lot a really tough woman was yelling right into Father Burke’s face. She was wearing fake leather boots with high heels, tight white pants showing her belly, and a purple top that showed . . .

other things. Her hair looked all dried out and was scraped back from a skinny face.

“Drugs on board,” Dad whispered to Mum.

“Why don’t you take it easy, now,” Father Burke was saying.

(I have to use bad language again. That’s her fault, not mine!) She said: “Fuck you! Are you the preacher here?”

“I am.”

“Well, you don’t look like it. Where’s Cody’s money?”

“Cody would be, em . . .”

“Don’t you understand English? Give me Cody’s money! I need

— he needs it now. He’s sick and I have to get him medicine. It’s an emergency!”

“Calm yourself down now and tell me who you are.”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? You told my kid you owe him a hundred and fifty dollars. Well, it was more than that he paid, it was like . . . five hundred dollars, and you’re trying to rip him off. I want it all back. Now!” She made a sneaky look behind her shoulder.

“I don’t got all night.”

“Oh, the one hundred fifty dollars. So Cody would be one of the lads who paid for an introduction to —”

Then another rough type of person busted into the scene! This guy was like the guys in the movies who wear really bright clothes and big old-fashioned hats. The woman gave him a scared look, then turned back to Father Burke. “So, like I was saying, I’m not going to do you out here in the parking lot, okay, but if you want to come with me —”

“Ah, now, don’t be talking like that. Let us get you some help. We could take you to the clinic —”

“Bitch not goin’ to no clinic,” the bad guy said. “What was that you was saying to Cody back home about cash? Is this the guy that owes the money?”

The man grabbed her and yanked her around so she was face to 218

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face with him. She yelled out in pain, then answered: “Yeah! It’s him.

Cody told me it was a preacher at this church who said he’d open a bank account and put the money in it. But I told him we need the money now, and it’s five hundred!”

“Let go of her!” That was a kid’s voice, coming from behind us.

Now we had another person in the parking lot, a short, skinny boy who was maybe ten or eleven years old. I remembered him; he was one of the boys who chased Derek and Connor Delaney at our school! Now he was running towards the woman, but before he could get there, the big man reached out and hit the boy across the face, really, really hard! I couldn’t believe my eyes. The boy fell down on the ground, and I saw blood spurting out from his nose.

“Mum!” he cried out. “Mum!”

Then you wouldn’t believe it! His mother screamed at him: “Shut your mouth! It serves you right! I told you, Cody, stay home and let me deal with this. Is that the guy who said he’d give you the money?”

She jerked her head at Father Burke.

But Cody didn’t answer. He just curled up on the ground and began to wail and cry as if the whole world, as bad as it was, was coming to an end.

The bad guy started walking towards him. “Shut up that bawling!

What are you, a man or a bitch?”

Father Burke and Daddy went to the bad guy. Father Burke said in a furious voice: “How dare you hurt that child!”

The man whipped around and got a hold of Father Burke, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him up against the wall of the building. Daddy jumped on the guy’s back and tried to drag him off, but all of a sudden the woman glommed onto Daddy and started pulling his hair, and she kicked him in the back of his leg. I was scared to death and started crying. Daddy let go and turned around, to stop her from hitting him. Then I saw Daddy get her arms in front of her, and he held on to her.

But Father Burke was still pinned against the wall, with the bad guy hollering at him: “When I get finished with you, choirboy, you gonna be my bitch!”

By that time, Mum and Monsignor O’Flaherty were in the parking lot, shouting that the police were on their way.

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I looked at Father Burke and saw him twist the bad guy’s arms away, and he flipped the guy onto the ground, face down. Father held him there and told him off. He said: “Nobody here is anybody’s
bitch
. Everybody here, child and woman and man, belongs to God.

Not to you. Understand?”