One or the Other by John McFetridge Page B

negotiating, which meant she was going to meet. He wasn’t too surprised, she had a lot to complain about and it would be better to let it all out to Dougherty than to someone she actually cared about.
    â€œThere’s a bar on Victoria Avenue, that’s what Boulevard Lapinière is called on the other side of Taschereau,” Dougherty said. “The Rustic Tavern, do you know it?”
    â€œNot in my territory.”
    â€œTen minutes,” Dougherty said.
    The Rustic was in the end unit of a strip mall next to a dry cleaner and a convenience store, but inside it did a pretty good job of looking rustic: dark wood panelling, heavy wooden bar, low lighting. And it was English all the way.
    Dougherty got a table near the door, ordered a draught and waited. Almost half an hour later Legault came in, stood by Dougherty’s table and said, in French, “There isn’t anything to say.”
    â€œWell, you’re here now.” Dougherty finished off his beer and motioned to the bartender.
    Legault sat down. Reluctantly. So reluctantly it almost made Dougherty laugh.
    A waitress came to the table and said, “What’ll it be?”
    Dougherty handed her his empty glass and looked at Legault. She didn’t say anything so Dougherty said, “Couple more, thanks.”
    Legault looked around the bar and said, “It’s all English here.”
    â€œOur little hideaway.”
    The waitress brought the beers and dropped a couple of menus on the table. “In case you’re hungry.”
    Dougherty said, “Thanks,” and then went back to French, saying, “So, I met Boudreau and Lefebvre.”
    Legault said, “You will be working with them now.”
    â€œNo, I’ll still be working with you.”
    â€œFine. I work youth services. You’re going to love it.”
    Dougherty drank his beer and waited a moment and then said, “You know there’s nothing here at all, nothing. And they’re not going to get anything. This is most likely going to be an open file forever.”
    â€œSo I should just forget it?”
    â€œYeah, that’s right, just forget it.”
    Legault smirked at him and started to say something and then stopped. Then she said, “Oh, you don’t mean that.”
    â€œOf course I don’t mean it. Look, this is just politics. There’s always politics, and it’s always bullshit.”
    Legault drank her beer and didn’t say anything.
    â€œLook, you knew you weren’t going to head up a homicide investigation from youth services.”
    â€œNo one cared until now.” She put down her glass and looked at Dougherty. “Until you got involved.”
    â€œThat’s what I mean,” Dougherty said, “it’s politics. The English have an expression, ‘it’s above my pay grade.’”
    â€œSo you don’t care?”
    â€œI don’t care about the politics, no. Look, I haven’t been doing this that long myself, but I’ve learned a few things. There’s always something else going on, there’s always something between the inspectors and captains and chiefs and mayors and whatever else, but it all goes on at another level and it’s got nothing to do with us. The best thing we can do, the only thing, is deal with what’s right in front of us the best we can. We’re trying to find out what happened to these kids, and if someone killed them we’re going to find out who and we’re going to arrest them. None of this other bullshit matters to us.”
    Legault nodded slowly. Then she said, “Yes, you’re right.”
    Dougherty said, “Okay.”
    And Legault said, “This time.”
    He started to say something, and then he saw her sly smile and he said, “Yeah, this time.”
    After a moment, Legault said, “And you’re right, there is nothing. When this was missing persons two days ago, I spoke to their family