One or the Other Read Online Free PDF Page B

that bridge every day,” Caron said. “No way.”
    â€œDrives my father crazy, sitting in traffic,” Dougherty said. “It wasn’t so bad when they bought the place.”
    Caron was back behind the bar refilling his shot glass. He looked around the room and said, “Maybe Boyle will move now, he’s got even more money.”
    â€œWhere’s he going to go, Westmount?”
    â€œMaybe Toronto.”
    â€œWe can hope,” Dougherty said.
    Then he saw Caron looking at him like he was thinking about saying something but not sure, and Dougherty was thinking it was probably something about being an Anglo in Montreal, and Dougherty didn’t have anything to say about that, so he looked away and reached across the bar for the Canadian Club and then the shouting started upstairs.
    â€œThe fuck you doing in my house!” And a door slammed and feet stomped.
    Caron said, “The fun starting.”
    Dougherty headed up the stairs and by the time he squeezed his way into the living room behind the crowd of cops, Peaky Boyle was already in the kitchen, face to face with Ste. Marie, saying, “All of you, get the fuck out.”
    A kid was crying somewhere in the house, and Dougherty didn’t see the woman in the tight jeans and loose blouse, but he did see Paquette coming down the stairs with a small suitcase in his hands.
    â€œOn y va.”
    Ste. Marie took the suitcase and put it on the kitchen table, open, so everyone could see the money inside, about a dozen packs of bills still with the paper wrapper around them. Then he spoke English, saying, “Well, lookee here.”
    Boyle said, “My lawyer’s on his way.”
    â€œYou’ll need him,” Ste. Marie said, “when we find out this came from a Brink’s truck.”
    â€œYou won’t.”
    Ste. Marie was putting the stacks of bills in a neat row, and he looked up at Boyle and said, “You don’t think we will?”
    â€œI know you won’t, that’s not where it came from.”
    â€œNo?” Ste. Marie was staring now, moving a little closer, and the whole house tensed up, Dougherty could feel it way out at the outer ring of the circle of men. “Where did it come from?”
    Boyle said, “I’m not telling you shit.”
    â€œYou don’t have to, but it will help you.”
    â€œGet out of my house.”
    â€œCome on,” Ste. Marie said, “you didn’t pull this job by yourself, why don’t you get out in front of it?”
    â€œYou’re fucking hilarious.”
    Dougherty could feel the tension going out of the room. Boyle wasn’t going to say anything and he certainly wasn’t going to name a single name. Dougherty knew they could take him down to the old River Road and beat on his thick skull and threaten to drop him in the rapids all they wanted, they were never going to break him.
    The door opened behind Dougherty, and a guy came in, saying, “All right, all right, time to go.”
    Caron said, “Shrier the shyster, you just in the neighbourhood?”
    The lawyer, Howard Shrier, pushed past Dougherty and Caron and made his way into the kitchen. “Party’s over, let’s go.” He was wearing pyjamas under his overcoat.
    Dougherty stepped out the front door, and Caron and a couple of other cops followed him. They stood on the lawn smoking cigarettes and waving to the neighbours who turned on their lights, but no one came out of their houses.
    Caron said, “At least we can leave an impression.”
    â€œI think the neighbours already know who lives here,” Dougherty said.
    â€œIf they didn’t, they do now.”
    A few minutes later, Ste. Marie and Laperrière came out of the house and the convoy headed back downtown.
    As Dougherty was turning onto Sherbrooke, Caron pulled a bottle from under his coat and said, “Gin, right? That’s what you Anglos drink, gin and