Read Online Deadline by Stephen Maher - Free Book Online

good. We were really hammered. Like, really hammered. I felt terrible this morning. Still don’t feel too good, as a matter of fact.” Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have a hazy memory of Ed telling me something, something he thought was important, while we were at Pigale, just before he went to get his lap dance, but I can’t bring it back. It’s just ... gone.”
    Flanagan leaned in. “Did you and Ed argue at any point in the evening? Were you upset with him?”
    Jack shook his head. “No way. We were having fun. We weren’t upset or angry or anything. No.”
    “What would you say if I told you the bouncers at Pigale said you two almost had a fight? That you seemed very upset with him?”
    “I’d say they were confused. Or lying. It’s bullshit. Are you making it up? I think you are.” He stared at Flanagan hard. “Are cops allowed to make shit up?”
    “All right,” said Flanagan. “Forget it. I’ve got to ask lots of questions.” He turned back to his timeline. “What time did you get a cab?”
    “I’ve no idea. Four? What time does Pigale kick out its customers? Whenever that is.”
    “Do you remember the cab company?”
    Jack looked up at the ceiling. “No. Not at all. I barely remember getting into it, and I don’t remember much after that.”
    Flanagan leaned back in his chair and looked away from Jack. “Do you remember going up to Parliament Hill?”
    “No,” said Jack. “I’d remember that.”
    Flanagan looked at him sceptically. “Do you remember walking down, you and Ed, going under the bridge by the canal, at about ten to five?”
    Jack looked at him like he had two heads. “No,” he said. “That didn’t happen.”
    Flanagan stared at him, hard. “What would you say if I told you I had a video that shows you and Ed walking down there together?”
    Jack stared back, just as hard. “I’d say you were making shit up again. Jesus. What the fuck is this? I’ll tell you what happened. The cab dropped me off at my place. Ed didn’t get out. After that, I have no idea where he went or what he did, or how he ended up in the canal. I know he lives by the canal. Was he drunk enough to wander over and fall into it, pass out? I don’t know. I’ve got no idea. But I know I wasn’t with him, at any point, near the canal, and I don’t know who was.” He stood up, shaking his head. “Is that clear? Jesus. Maybe I do need a lawyer.”
    Flanagan stood up, too. “Settle down, settle down. I have to ask all kinds of questions. Just because I ask you a question doesn’t mean I’m accusing you of anything.” He smiled, and gestured towards Jack’s seat. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”
    Jack sat down again, and then Flanagan did the same.
    “Okay,” he said. “I think that’s everything I wanted to ask you for now. Is there anything you want to add? Anything you think might help us with our investigation?”
    Jack stared out into the squad room. “Uh, I’d like to add that I had nothing to do with putting Ed in the water, and I hope you have more clues than you seem to.”
    “All right, wise guy,” said Flanagan, thinking that if he finished the interview now, he could still pick up Jason and make it to the second period of the game. He sighed.
    “Okay,” he said, standing. “That’ll do for now. I’ll follow up with you in the next couple of days.”
    Jack was in the car and halfway home before he realized he still had Ed’s BlackBerry in his pocket. Flanagan hadn’t even asked him about it.

3 – Triangulation
    J IM D ONAHOE ARRIVED at Ed’s bedside at 7 p.m., sticking his handsome face in the open doorway and knocking quietly. Dave Cochrane stood behind him.
    Sophie and Beverly Sawatski were sitting on each side of the hospital bed, and Tom Sawatski was next to his wife, holding her hand. They all looked up when Donahoe knocked.
    “Oh, Minister Donahoe,” said Sophie, jumping up. “It’s good of you to come. You must be so busy.”
    “I came