Barney's Version - Mordecai Richler [165]
“I think so. But only after he hit me.”
“I want you to do me a favour, Barney. I’ve still got a few bucks in the bank. It’s yours. But I want you to find another lawyer.”
“I’m also going to need you for my divorce. But, hey, we no longer need a hooker and a private detective. I caught her in the act. Boogie will be my witness.”
“Only he’s probably dead.”
“He’ll turn up. Oh, there’s something else I should mention. She knows about Miriam.”
“How come?”
“How would I know? People talk. Maybe we were seen together. She never should have said that about Miriam’s voice.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“I blabbed. Okay, I shouldn’t have. But I did. Look, John, I can’t go to prison. I’m in love.”
“We never met. I don’t know you. That’s final. Where are you phoning from?”
“My cottage.”
“Hang up.”
“You’re paranoid. That would be illegal.”
“Hang up right now.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Early the next morning in Montreal I was wakened by the doorbell. It was O’Hearne with a warrant for my arrest for murder. And it was Lemieux who put the cuffs on me.
6
The children never tired of stories about my courtship of Miriam, rejoicing in our naughtiness, constantly pressing for more details.
“You mean he ran from his own wedding and followed you onto the train to Toronto?”
“He did.”
“You’re bad, Daddy,” said Kate.
A solemn Saul looked up from his book and said, “I wasn’t born yet.”
“What time did the train leave for Toronto?” asked Michael for the umpteenth time.
“Around ten o’clock,” said Miriam.
“If the hockey game ended at, say, ten-thirty, and the train left at approximately ten, I don’t see how —”
“Michael, we’ve been through this before. It must have been a late departure.”
“And you made him get off at —”
“I still don’t see how —”
“I have not yet come to the end of my sentence,” said Kate.
“Oh, you’re such a pain in the —”
“You may speak only when I have come to the end of a sentence. And you made him get off at Montreal West. Period.”
“Actually she was secretly miffed that I didn’t ride all the way to Toronto with her.”
“It was his wedding night, dear.”
“He was pissed,” said Saul.
“Daddy, were you. Question mark.”
“Certainly not.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it, that you couldn’t stop staring at her, comma, even though it was your wedding night. Period.”
“He never even asked me to dance.”
“Mummy thought he was just a bit goofy. Period.”
“If you were staring, tell me what she was wearing at the time.”
“A layered blue chiffon off-the-shoulder cocktail dress. Ha, ha, ha.”
“And is it true, comma, that the first time he took you to lunch he was sick all over the place, question mark.”
“I wasn’t born until three years later.”
“Yeah, and I’m surprised they didn’t declare it a national holiday. Like Queen Victoria’s birthday.”
“Children, please.”
“You went with him to his hotel room on your first date, question mark. Shame on you. Period.”
“Mummy is Daddy’s third wife,” said Michael, “but we’re the only children.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked.
“Daddy!” said Kate.
“I had my hair done and wore a sexy new dress and —”
“Mummy!”
“— and he didn’t even say I looked nice.”
“Then what happened?”
“They drank champagne.”
“Daddy’s first wife became famous and —”
“We know that already.”
“— and she did that yucky ink drawing he has. Period.”
“It’s worth a lot of money now,” said Michael.
“You would think of that,” said Saul.
“It sure doesn’t sound very romantic,” said Kate, “his puking like that on your first date.”
“The truth is, I was terrified of making a bad impression on your mother.”
“Didn’t you?”
“She’ll have to answer that one.”
“His approach was original. I’ll give your father that much.”
“So you talked and walked,” said Kate, “and then what?” she asked, big-eyed, the boys now equally attentive.
“Not everything is your business,” said Miriam, and there was that dimple in her cheek again.
“Aw, come on. We’re old enough now.”
“I can remember,” said Kate, “all of us being in the car in Toronto that time —”
“The Toyota.”
“It happened to be the Volvo station