A Criminal to Remember (A Monty Haaviko Thriller) Read Online Free Page A

the microphone back to her face. “Because I do my research. You’ve certainly been in the news enough!”
    Behind her I could see Claire and I knew I had to wrap this up quick. “Ah. No, no rage. Just raising money to stop the abuse of children …”
    “A Good Cause!” She capitalized it enthusiastically. “So, you don’t hate the police?”
    “No.” I tried to back up and she followed, along with her camera guy, a round black man who sweated a lot.
    “You’ve been a felon most of your life?”
    “True.”
    “Yet you claim you don’t hate cops?”
    “True. You put news reporters in that same tank and I’ll be down here just as fast. Probably faster. I mean child abuse, who’s in favour of child abuse?” She didn’t get the joke.
    Candy smiled again. “So what do you think of cops?”
    She was not going to leave me alone. I exhaled. “I like cops. Really.” I didn’t finish the line with “but I couldn’t eat a whole one.” Instead I added, “There’s been four wrongful convictions for murder just here in Winnipeg in your lifetime.”
    I named four names from Winnipeg’s past.
    Candy’s brow furrowed. “What? Who are they?”
    I took a step forward and she took a step back. Around us the cops kept showing their cars and robots and taunting the ball throwers. I went on, “Those are four dead people, people murdered in the past twenty-eight years.”
    Candy’s smile never wavered. “What does that have to do with …”
    I took another step forward. “In each case the cops arrested someone and put him in jail for a few months or years or decades. Then they had to let them go because the person arrested didn’t do the crime. Think about that.”
    Candy didn’t have a response and I kept talking. “Because. Those arrests meant that the murderers got to walk free and clear. And do whatever they wanted. To whomever they wanted.”
    Claire came around and took my arm and I smiled at Candy. “I don’t hate cops. They do a very hard job. Frankly, I don’t think about them at all. But when I do I admire and respect them.”
    It was a lie but a good one to leave on.
    As we walked back to the parking lot Elena just shook her head. “You pour gasoline on fires too? Tease wolverines? Molest sharks? You are a walking disaster area …”
    Alex took her hand. “True. But at least he’s not boring.”
    Claire was pushing Fred, who had fallen fast asleep. She pulled a blanket over him and stuck her tongue out at Alex. “He’s never boring.”
    On the way out the gate Claire looked back at the bright midway and sighed. “And I never even got a prize …”

#4
    T he next morning Claire and I heard the same interview played over and over on three separate radio stations. Each time it was followed by angry callers talking about my behaviour, demeanour, attitude and general lack of respect. We also got nine phone calls from various news agencies trying to get me to comment. Then I got a call from a local right wing radio station that tried to insult me until I got angry but I hung up and finally unplugged the phone.
    I stood there for a second and looked around the kitchen. The whole house didn’t feel safe to me yet. A full year ago an enemy had booby-trapped the place with grenades, cyanide, shotgun shells, spring razors, spikes and so on. Clearing it had taken me eleven days on my hands and knees.
    Eleven days. And I still wasn’t sure I had gotten all the traps out. It gnawed at the place I was supposed to have a conscience—I would hate to have Claire or Fred hurt through my carelessness.
    I had cleared the place to the best of my ability and I was really good.
    But no one’s perfect.
    Idly I wondered about burning the place down … just to be sure. Claire interrupted me before I could think it all the way through. “Coffee? Eggs? Breakfast was promised. You still worried about the radio and the phone calls?”
    I snorted. “Yep. Kept me up last night screaming.”
    Claire accepted the