The Lucky Elephant Restaurant

Tuesday, October 27
Chapter 19

“SO, ALL WE’VE got is a big mess,” Harper said.

They sat across from one another at the Kensington coffee shop. Bryan, as usual, was getting them a second cup.

“The Police Commission is questioning the chief.

Cole’s teacher, Mrs. Dakin, gets a week off-maybe more-so she can be the scapegoat. Bobbie has an alibi; she was at work. It looked like we were building a case against her. Now, it looks like our case might be down the toilet,” Harper said.

“Go ahead. Say I told you so.” Lane’s mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep.

“You boys look a little worse for wear.” Bryan slid their new coffees over and took the empty mugs.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Harper said.

“I watch TV. I know some of it,” Bryan said.

“Like what?” Harper asked.

“I know you’ve got this town talkin’,” Bryan said.

“That’s for sure.” Harper cocked his head in the direction of a nearby table. A patron held up the newspaper.

The headline screamed BOBBIE’S SON ABDUCTED.

Lane looked outside. “We’ve got to get in touch with Jay.”

Rush hour traffic was lighter now. The sun had been down for at least an hour. Lane looked across the street and waited for the crosswalk light to change.

Harper looks as bad as I feel, Lane thought.

“I thought yesterday was bad. Today we accomplished nothing. It seems like the whole case has dried up. Jay’s lawyer, Tommy Pham, isn’t gonna help, we can’t find out who Pham works for, and the DNA tests won’t be in for at least another day. Man, this is getting really depressing.” Harper stood next to his partner on the street corner.

Lane shook his head. Harper was right.

“You’ve got a hockey game tonight?” Harper asked.

“Martha’s coming,” Lane said.

“How’s she doing?” Harper asked.

“I’m not too sure.”

The light turned green. They stepped into the crosswalk. “At least the game will be a distraction,” Harper said.

Lane took a couple of quick turns on the fresh ice before setting the nets down and making sure everything was in place. He glanced over to the end of the rink where the Zamboni was parked in its garage on the other side of the boards. The rink attendant, Cheryl, gave a wave. Lane waved back and looked into the stands. Arthur and Martha sat side by side. They were deep in conversation and gave him no notice.

Behind them, Mac wore his black leather coat and leaned against the railing with one leather-gloved hand over the other. Mac wore a pair of sunglasses and turned his head to glare at Lane while Matt lead the team onto the ice.

Again, Lane was the only referee. Matt played his usual shutout style till there were less than ten minutes to go. After an icing call, the face-off was in Matt’s end. Lane dropped the puck, and the centre fed it back to his defenceman who one-timed a shot in the general direction of the net. The puck should have gone wide. Lane watched it deflect off a defenceman’s foot. Matt lunged, stumbled, and dove for the puck. It tipped off the end of his trapper and dribbled over the line. Lane pointed and blew the whistle to indicate a goal.

A cheer erupted from the opposing players’ bench.

Lane leaned over to get the puck.

The defenceman said to Matt, “Sorry, man.”

Matt said, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey goalie! You’re useless!”

Lane looked up into the crowd. Arthur was looking over his shoulder. Martha stood up.

Mac said, “No wonder we can’t win a game. We got a fudge-packer for a ref, and Quasimodo in net!”

Lane skated toward the boards.

Martha stood one row down from Mac. Mac looked down at her and laughed. Even with her winter coat on, she looked like she weighed less than Mac’s leather coat. She reached up to grab Mac’s sleeve.

“Let go, bitch!” Mac reached down and grabbed a handful of Martha’s hair.

The arena was suddenly and completely silent.

Cheryl ran along the aisle at the top of the stands.

Martha pulled away.

A handful of hair came out in Mac’s hand. He held the dangling trophy and smiled. “Nice hair, bitch!”

Lane skated to the gate and opened it.

Arthur moved in between Martha and Mac.

Lane watched Mac swing a fist that hit Arthur in the face.

“Hurry up!” Matt pushed Lane from behind.

Lane climbed the steps.

Arthur fell to one knee and cupped his hands to hold the blood from his nose.

Mac cocked his arm to strike again, but Cheryl grabbed him from behind.

Mac sank to his knees.

Cheryl held his right hand back at an awkward angle. She looked at Lane, “Call the cops.”

“Do you want me to take him?” Lane asked.

“You know Hapkido?” Cheryl asked.

“No.” Lane thought, She’s got this under control.

“Then you’d better call,” she said.

Mac said, “What did I do? The bitch came after me! I got a right to defend myself.”

“Shut up.” Cheryl put more pressure on Mac’s wrist.

“Shit! You’re hurting me!” Mac looked up at Lane.

“Do something! She’s breaking my arm!”

Lane looked at Mac’s face. His eyes were invisible behind the sunglasses. His cheeks were clean-shaven.

Mac looked inconsequential on his knees.

Mac said, “Man, you saw it. I had to defend myself.

Those two came after me! It was me or them!”

Lane shook his head and looked back at Arthur. Martha held a wad of bloody Kleenex to his nose. There was a bare patch on the side of Martha’s head where Mac had pulled her hair out.

“You okay?” Cheryl said to Martha.

“Chemo,” Martha said.

“Had a mastectomy ten years ago, and I’m still around. Smokin’ weed helps with the nausea,” Cheryl said as if their present circumstances were more like a discussion over coffee in the kitchen than a brawl in an arena.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Mac asked.

“Breast cancer, you asshole!” Cheryl said.

Lane looked around and spotted a woman who was talking on her cellphone. She nodded at Lane, “I’ve got the police on the line.”

Mac said, “The cops won’t do a thing to me! I didn’t do anything! I’m the victim here!”

Lane turned back to the man, “Since neither of them retaliated, it’s not a consensual fight. Quite simply, it’s assault. I’m looking forward to saying that in court. You might even get some jail time when she-”

Lane pointed at Martha- “testifies. By then she will have no hair at all. Bet it’ll even make the papers. Big Mac beats up on a woman with cancer. Your face will be on the news. You’ll be famous around town! With any luck, the story will go national.”

“Whose side are you on, man?” Mac asked.

Lane thought, Typical bully. Play the victim. Lane closed his eyes and saw Bobbie pushing her way into the principal’s office. He heard Martha’s voice saying, “My, my, my,” when she heard Bobbie on television. He saw Mac hitting Arthur in the face, then Mac playing the victim. He saw the look of terror in Cole’s eyes. Then, he remembered the nightmare with the crucified child. The flash of insight made him shake his head, take a breath, and open his eyes just so he could be sure he was still in the arena. Finally, he thought, I know exactly what kind of game Bobbie is playing.