8:17 p.m. Darling Street Page #2

Then, heII.

It's endIess.

AIcohoIics waIk a wire.

A decade of sobriety

doesn't guarantee the end.

We try to do the 12 steps,

knowing each is hard.

One day at a time, 24 hours/day,

Stories are sacred.

I'm unsure about much in Iife,

but I know stories are sacred.

''GerminaI'', the BibIe,

an AA story, it's aII the same:

they impose order on chaos.

Story-teIIing is Iike

whistIing in the dark.

We do it to survive.

Later that night, I decided

to find out what had happened.

We can't revive the dead,

but we can teII their story.

Don't worry.

l won't mention you.

Okay, Stef. l owe you one.

Fine. Bye.

Six it is. Six dead:

old Mme Dumais,

Jose and her mom,

the mystery woman with the

smashed face. We saw these.

Plus the 2 they concealed:

Mme Diane Demers,

likely that student's mother,

and an unknown man beside her.

Plus, 2 are missing:

my 2nd-floor neighbour,

and Jose's father, whom

no one's seen since the bus.

Why mess around in this?

lt's none of your business.

And what'll you get out of it?

You'll just hurt everyone.

Here's Mme Dumais's obituary.

Oh, boy! Listen to this:

''Mme Diane Pilon Demers, M.D.,

Wife of Claude Demers, Esq.,

National Bank president.

This is the big leagues.

She leaves her daughter,

her sisters...

Closed-casket ceremonies at

St. Viateur church, Outremont.''

No sh*t...

Mountainside mansion

to death on Darling. Funny, eh?

Yeah, hilarious.

Hello, marshall.

You again?

Find anything?

Nothing.

How come?

A gas explosion with no gas.

- The house wasn't connected.

- How about underground leaks?

You want my job?

No...

- Will it take long?

- The time it takes.

l don't get the streaker.

The what?

The naked guy.

Just before, a lady on the 2nd

saw a man streaking on the roof.

- Really?

- You know her?

No. Always at the window.

A streaker.

Hello?

Mr Langlois?

You know me?

l used to read your column.

Too bad you quit.

You had a way with murders.

Thanks.

- ls it about the explosion?

- Yes.

lt was the Hells.

Come in.

- Excuse me, what's your name?

- Marie-Rose.

Lt Geoffrion said you saw

a streaker before the explosion?

Funny, eh? ln mid-November.

- Naked.

- Yes.

You recognized him?

He ran fast.

- Was he in the explosion?

- No.

He made it over.

- And what about the Hells?

- Your downstairs neighbour.

The tall guy. He went out

Not to deliver pizza.

- You saw this?

- Didn't you?

They blew up the house

to get him.

What a bastard!

He used to beat his wife.

Such a nice girl,

with a sweet little daughter.

- Poor thing.

- Hold on, Marie-Rose.

lf this is true, you must've

seen something suspicious.

l don't spend my life

at the window!

- Anything else seem strange?

- No. You're always reading,

rarely eat at home.

Your 2nd-floor neighbour

seems quiet

but his windows are dark.

The 3rd-floor student

seems quiet too, but...

But?

Sometimes when she's not there,

a woman goes in,

and then a man.

A rich lady, in a fancy car.

The man comes in a cab.

When they're finished,

they leave separately.

Are you sure?

And that lady?

Mme Dumais?

A saint.

A saint.

I went back to check

the cIassifieds.

With onIy one night Ieft,

I had to find an apartment.

Looking around here?

Yeah.

The 2-room below me is for rent.

The old tenant went to a home.

- Where do you live?

Really?

between AyIwin and CuviIier,

in a big ground-floor flat,

with my 8 sibIings.

We used to sIed out back.

Dad pIanted a tree by the hiII.

The Inuit say,

when Iost in a bIizzard,

you waIk in circIes and end up

exactIy where you started.

l have furniture too.

l put it aside in the back.

- You had a fire?

- Yes, l was on Darling.

- The building that blew up.

- Wait a minute.

Sir? There'll be no charge.

- Really?

- Can we deliver it tomorrow?

Sure. l'll just take

a couple things now.

- What's your name?

- Gatane.

Thanks, Gatane.

The oId woman downstairs

was named Adrienne.

I expected cIosed-casket.

She Iooked caIm.

Seeing her again affected me.

I kneIt and pretended to pray.

Maybe that counts.

Excuse me. Did you know her?

Not really. We were neighbours.

l was away when it happened.

- Was she your mother?

- My aunt. My father's sister.

She was born on a farm. Her famiIy

moved to town in the Depression.

She had Grade 4, and worked

at Viau Cookies nearby.

At 37, she married a maiIman

she met at a parish fair.

They had no kids.

We call some women saints.

That was Aunt Adrienne.

She looked after old folks:

did their errands and dishes,

even though she was the oldest.

Then her sight failed.

She hardly ever went out.

- She thought about death?

- She mentioned it.

''There's no rush.''

She said, ''lf l keep my mind and

hearing, l'd gladly live to 100.''

She loved listening to books

on tape from the library.

l bet she was ''reading''

when it happened.

ls this the tape library?

Hello. l have

an enquiry to make.

My neighbourjust died.

She borrowed books on tape.

Could l find out

what she last borrowed?

Adrienne Dumais

on Darling Street.

Ringuet's ''Trente Arpents''.

I read it when I was young.

I got it out of the Iibrary.

I reread it that night,

Adrienne in mind.

I imagined her Iast night.

After supper, she settIed

into her favourite pIace.

She turned on the tape pIayer,

Iistened to the reader's voice.

This country-born woman

basked in the taIe of Moisan

and his Iand by the river.

Then, a noise,

Iight...

and it was over.

Mr Langlois?

- He's back!

- Who?

- The tall guy came for his car.

- You saw him?

No, but his car's gone! lt was

parked at the corner of Rouville.

Or it's the Hells.

The cops ignored me.

l'll look after it.

Good thing someone will.

l'll do my best.

Mr Langlois?

You take calls here?

You're my 2nd mom.

My Coroner contact.

A Mme Caron had identified

Mme Demers' companion.

Denise and Jose were ID'd

by Denise's mother.

Mme Laperrire Iived nearby.

I checked it out.

Big mistake.

Where's my order, f***?

- l'm not-

- A case of 24, get it? Christ!

- l'm not delivery!

- So who are you?

Denise's neighbour,

offering condolences.

Well, shove them up your ass!

She got what she deserved.

Good for her!

Goddamnit!

Sit down.

Okay?

- Alright?

- Yeah.

- Want some water?

- No.

Gimme a cigarette.

Here.

Why'd you say...

she got what she deserved?

Who?

Your daughter.

My daughter?

Ain't my daughter any more.

She got cocky

when she started college.

She moved to the west end,

and started slagging us.

She was too good for us.

Ain't there nothin' to drink?

Nothing left.

Why'd she come back?

Who're you?

l told you, her neighbour.

You're not dead?

No. Did she come back

for her boyfriend?

That f***ing Franois

can go to hell.

- Why do you say that?

- Prick.

That prick!

Where is he?

l don't give a f***!

That dirty prick!

OK, Mme Laperrire!

What's her daughter's name?

An empty room can be reassuring.

Like on the prairies,

or on a beach.

You can see troubIe coming.

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