Chapter 24

The next day dawned bright and early. Shauna and I had our customary morning "cuddle," which took about thirty minutes. We never liked to rush our early morning loving. In many respects, it was the best part of the day. "Just a little lovin', early in the mornin', beats a cup of coffee for startin' off the day," to quote the old Dusty Springfield song.

It was Thursday. Today, we'd go to the Lexus dealer. However, I had several other things that must be done. After a leisurely breakfast of eggs and Shauna's wonderful homemade muffins, I excused myself. I went into the library and dialed the number of Peter Fallbridge's office. I was pleasantly surprised when Peter himself answered the phone.

"Pete," I said, "how are they hangin'? It's Pat Connolly."

"Sheet, Pat, I knew that as soon as I heard your creaky-assed voice. Haven't they fired you yet?"

"No, they're not wise to me. But seriously, I have some stuff to tell you. This is something that's just landed in my lap. You'll want to break it carefully. It's very volatile, and there's going to be a lot of fallout for quite a while."

"OK. Fire away."

I told Peter about Jake Singh's girlfriend and all the money that he'd thrown her way. Pete, being a good newsman, wanted proof. I gave him the dates and other facts that I had at my disposal. I ended my recitation with a caveat.

"Pete, there's bound to be more in this story. I can't say anything, but my sources have told me that this is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Jesus, Pat. I'd never have suspected Jake of something like this. I'll turn this information over to my research people. I'll put a rush on it. I'll try to break it on tomorrow's newscast. What was the girlfriend's name again?"

"Her name is Linda Munro. She's originally from England, and she used to work for CBC. As I understand it, she was in our Business Affairs department. She was a clearance officer -- one of those people who gets permission for us to broadcast songs, speeches, plays, all sorts of copyrighted material. How she met Jake, I have no idea. But from all accounts, she's fucking gorgeous -- a real blonde bombshell."

"No wonder Jake couldn't keep it in his pants," Pete said.

"Yeah, but it looks as this has 'blown' his whole career, if you'll excuse the pun."

"Cute. Well thanks, Pat. Thanks for this."

"Pete, there's one more important piece of information that you don't need to broadcast. Just don't be surprised when you hear it."

"What's that?"

"Jake Singh's niece, Parmela Singh, is in Jerry Goldfarb's law firm. And she's my lawyer."

"Sweet Jesus! Is she your source? Did she drop the dime on her uncle?"

"No way. I'm sure that she doesn't know anything about this yet. I'll have to tell her, when I find a way."

"I don't envy you."

"I know. She's a really good kid: intelligent, perceptive and as honest as they come. Jerry Goldfarb thinks the world of her."

"The poor kid."

"Yeah. You can say that again. I understand that she's very proud of her Uncle Jake."

"God, I wonder what she'll think of him after the news gets out. Pat, thanks again for this. And congratulations. I understand that you're engaged, though I can't imagine that any woman would have you."

"News travels fast. Thanks, Pete. Yeah, I'm engaged to a sweet, lovely, brilliant girl."

"Well, I'm glad to see you settling down. You know, Gail and I have two kids. Don't be afraid of them. It's about time that you got some."

"Thanks, Pete. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Pat. Thanks for the info. We'll treat it well. Whoever your source is, please thank him or her for me."

I hung up the phone and leaned back with a sigh. Suddenly, I realized that Shauna was sitting beside me. I had no idea how long she'd been there. She reached over and stroked my cheek. "That must have been hard for you," she said.

"Yeah. But it had to be done. By tomorrow, Jake Singh and his paramour will be front page news."

Shauna put her arms around me and snuggled against me. "But the most important thing to me is that you tell your friends that I'm 'sweet, lovely and brilliant, '" she said.

"Yes. I only speak the truth. Especially when talking to a colleague."

Shauna looked at her watch. "Well let's see," she said, "it's now eleven o'clock. We're due at the Lexus dealer at one thirty. That leaves plenty of time, don't you think?"

"Time for what?"

"For this," she said, sliding her hand under my robe. She held my joint and gently stroked it. "My goodness, it looks as though this fellow is waking up. I wish we could take advantage of that."

I scooped up Shauna. I carried her to the open area in front of the fireplace. I gently laid her on the carpet. I discarded my own robe and opened hers. "Be careful what you wish for," I said, "cuz it looks like you're going to get it."

We made love in front of the fireplace. There was no fire. At least not in the fireplace.

Afterward, we showered, got dressed and prepared to take the Orange Monster to meet its maker, so to speak. On the drive to the car dealer, Shauna was clearly nervous. "My God," she said, "I can't believe it. We're really doing it. My folks will be so jealous. We're going to have a new Lexus. A brand new one. I can't believe it."

I simply smiled and held her hand.

We arrived. I parked the orange monster in the lot, and we entered the showroom. Shauna looked around. The red SC430 was not there. I grinned at her. "I bet I know what you're looking for," I said.

Shauna gave a little half-smile. "Yeah," she said, "I guess that I'm pretty obvious. Oh well, it's probably been sold."

"Yes," I agreed, "it probably has."

We were shown into the sales manager's office. He greeted us warmly. I handed him the envelope containing the certified cheque. He looked at it, smiled and put the cheque in his desk drawer. "Thank you, Mr. Connolly. Everything is ready," he said, "I just need you to sign the papers. Then you can take your new cars home."

We sat down in front of his desk. He passed us the papers and registration for the ES 300. I'd asked that it be in both our names. I signed and passed the papers to Shauna. She signed. Then the manager handed Shauna another set of papers. "Ms. Cake, I need you to sign this lot, and then we're done," he said.

Shauna picked up the first one. She stared at it. It was the bill of sale for an SC430, "absolutely red" exterior with "ecru" leather interior and the navigation package. "There must be some mistake," she said, "we haven't bought this car."

"Yes," I said, "we have. Do you remember when I told you that I'd buy it for you when I got rich? Well, that time has come. The car is yours."

Shauna gasped. She looked down at the desk. She gasped again and said, "Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't take it. I just can't."

"Sweetheart, you don't have a choice. I paid cash for the car. If you don't take it, we'll just have to sell it."

"But I just can't," she said. "It's too much."

"No, my love, it's not. Just think of it as an early wedding present from Moe."

Slowly Shauna picked up the pen. She signed the bill of sale and the registration papers. The manager took the papers from us. He gave us our copies of the bills of sale, the registration papers and two sets of keys. "Come with me," he said.

We followed him into the garage. There, side by side, were the black ES 300 and the red SC 430. The manager demonstrated the various features of the cars to us. He took great delight in raising and lowering the convertible hardtop on the SC 430. "This will be wonderful in the summer," he said, "unfortunately it's a bit too cold in February to enjoy it."

Finally, it was time for the drive home. Shauna looked at her new car. She turned to me. "You know, I feel like an idiot," she said. "I've never paid much attention to the route you took to get here. I don't know the way home."

"That's OK, little love," I said. "Follow me."

We headed out of the garage. I was careful to keep Shauna right behind me. Finally, we pulled into our driveway. I keyed the garage door opener and pulled in. It was actually supposed to be a three-car garage, so there was plenty of room for Shauna. She pulled in beside me. I got out of the sedan. Shauna remained sitting in her sports car.

I went over to her. She lowered the window. Smiling, she said, "I think that I'm going to sleep here tonight. This is a dream come true. You wouldn't believe how this thing drives. It's magical. And look at this." She lowered the top. "This is the most wonderful car in the world, and you're the most wonderful man."

I leaned into the car and kissed her. "Sweet baby, would you take me for a ride?"

"Hop in," she said.

Shauna put the top up and backed the car out of the driveway. At my direction, she headed toward the Driveway. Not our driveway, but the Queen Elizabeth Driveway, the picturesque boulevard paralleling the Rideau Canal. She was obviously a very good driver and drove the powerful car smoothly. She turned to me and grinned. "I know that it's cold," she said, "but I have to do this." She pulled the car to the side of the road and lowered the top. She drove away with the top down. The winter sun shown on us. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not going to freeze you. I'll put it back up in a minute. I just had to experience this."

We drove through Ottawa and crossed the bridge to Hull, Québec. The sun was shining brightly, and the roads were dry and clear. I directed Shauna towards the Gatineau Hills. She drove over the winding road with ease, if a bit fast for my taste. We stopped for a coffee and then headed back to Ottawa. As we drove away from the coffee shop parking lot, Shauna laughed. She said, "I just realized how I must look to the people back there. A blonde driving a red convertible. How stereotypical can you get?"

As we reached Ottawa, I looked at the clock on the dashboard, I was amazed to find that it was nearly six o'clock. No wonder my stomach was growling. I turned to Shauna. "How about heading home," I said, "it's supper time. And I believe that you should probably call your folks tonight. You haven't talked to them since we've been back together."

Shauna said, "Can we go to the Green Valley? Please? It seems as though everything good for us has always started there. And I'd kind of like to celebrate."

I called the restaurant on my cell phone. I reserved our usual table and told them that we'd arrive shortly. Then I directed Shauna to the Green Valley.

When we got there, I told Shauna to park next to our window table. She'd be able to look at her car while we ate.

We took our table. Shauna sat looking out at her car, while I took the seat looking into the restaurant. The first person I saw was Jean-François Ménard. It seemed that he was always at the Green Valley. I was beginning to wonder if he lived there.

Shauna talked away about her car. She talked about how amazed she was by the acceleration, the handling and the comfort of the car. In the meantime, I noticed that Jean-François was, most unusually, sitting alone. He caught my eye. I motioned him over to our table.

Shauna looked up as the tall figure of Jean-François loomed above her. "J. F.," I said, "please join us."

"I'm waiting for someone," he said.

"Well, sit with us until she comes," I replied.

Jean-François smiled at my use of the feminine pronoun. "I would not think of disturbing you," he said.

"Don't worry about it, my friend. I find myself in the uncomfortable position of needing the washroom. While I relieve a bit of tension, I'm sure that Shauna will be happy to tell you about her new car. That's it right outside the window."

"Oh my God," Jean-François said, "it is beautiful! What a wonderful car. You must tell me all about it."

As I wandered toward the pisser, I could hear Shauna embarking on the recitation of her vehicle's features. Jean-François was making appropriate noises. I couldn't help but smile. I doubted that J. F. had a driver's licence or even knew which was the business end of a car. But I was gaining insight into how the ugly fucker managed to score so much. If I hadn't felt so sure of my girl, I'd have been back at the table yanking him out of the chair by the roots of his comb-over.

When I returned after taking care of my business, Jean-François was still there. Shauna turned to me. "Poor J. F. has been stood up," she said, "his friend just called him to say that she can't come. I've asked him to join us for supper. I hope you don't mind."

Perhaps I should have been peeved at this, but I actually found it amusing. A couple of days before, Shauna had referred to Jean-François as "that awful guy." Now, she'd obviously been charmed by him. It was great to see a consummate cuntsman at work, just as long as he kept his hands off my lady.

I sat down and said, "OK, let's order drinks. Jean-François, I can join you in a good stiff drink, since I have a designated driver."

"Oh yes," he said, "a lovely driver and a marvelous car. You are very lucky, mon ami."

"I know," I said, "and I don't deserve any of it."

Over supper, it was only natural that the talk would turn to the topic of J. F.'s boss and his troubles. "I fear," Jean-François said, "that someone in the CBC has leaked something. I suspect that the minister and his personal staff are preparing for a fight."

"So they're already circling the wagons," I said. "It's almost inevitable that someone would have said something. Both my show and the National News have big staffs. We can't muzzle everyone. However, only Joe Dudich and I know that the information came from you. I don't think that you need to worry about your name coming out."

"Thank you, mon ami, however I am prepared to speak publicly, if it is necessary."

"That's very brave and very altruistic of you. Let's hope that it won't be necessary."

On the drive home, Shauna was quiet for a while. Then she said, "J. F. said that he's prepared to go public. I know you said that could affect his career. Just what could happen to him?"

"Well, Jean-François is about as high as you can go in the civil service. He's what's known as a 'senior mandarin.' As such, he has a lot of protection. The government couldn't simply fire him. However, he could easily find himself deputy minister in charge of paper clips or perhaps ambassador to Lower Slobovia. Something like that. They could make his life miserable enough to force him to retire."

"That's awful," she said. "He's such a nice guy. I don't know if I'll ever understand how things work in this town. But when you were in the washroom just before we left, J. F. told me a bit about what's likely to happen after this story comes out. He said that the whole thing would come before a parliamentary committee. He mentioned that the chair of that committee is a real party man, but that he would probably have to hang the minister out to dry."

"That's more than likely. It's almost certain."

Shauna asked, "Do you know the guy? J. F. said that his name is Steven Finnissy."

"God, yes. I know Steve. We were at St. Mike's together. But I certainly wouldn't say that we're friends."

I looked out the car window at the bleak winter countryside. I thought about Steve and the incident that ended our friendship.

I met Steve Finnissy when I was in my second year at St. Michael's University in the University of Toronto. Steve and his girlfriend Mary Parks were in first year. They were the geekiest couple I knew.

Of course the term "geek" probably hadn't been coined at that time, but looking back, that's how I'd describe them: geeks. Steve and Mary were both very serious about school. They worked very hard at their studies. Their social life consisted of going to classical music concerts and the occasional movie. They were both bright, although far too serious, I thought. They'd been childhood sweethearts since high school, perhaps even junior high. They were from New Brunswick and didn't seem to fit well in the big city.

They were also an odd couple physically. Steve was a good head shorter than Mary, and she was not extraordinarily tall -- probably about 5' 6" or 5' 7". Because of his small stature and his fresh face, Steve looked much younger than he was. On the other hand, Mary looked older than her age. She was rather plain, and she wore clothes that were much too old for her. They looked like hand-me-downs from her mother. Or perhaps a maiden aunt. As I said, they were a very odd pair.