The Complete Stories of Morley Callaghan by Callaghan Morley; Atwood Margaret;

Author:Callaghan, Morley; Atwood, Margaret;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Exile Editions

Haggerty had pulled the morning paper out of his pocket. “Look at my column, Ray,” he said idly.

Turning to the sporting page Ray began to read the column. When Mike saw tears come to Ray’s eyes he got up and stood behind him. He had to do something to get the picture of Annie Laurie kneeling beside Harry out of his head. Leaning over Ray’s shoulder he read the long paragraph in the column about the fight. In this paragraph Haggerty had written that the one tragic figure in the comedy of errors in the ring was little Ray Conlin. The little guy, the most loyal handler a fighter ever had, had slipped maybe in not screaming for a postponement when Johnny got a nosebleed in training two days ago; but a doctor could have made the same mistake. For Eddie Adams to boot Ray out and leave him unpaid and wandering around, bewildered, was worthy of that exalted code of ethics that was now dominating the fight game since Rosso took over. “For shame, for shame, Eddie,” he had written.

“Somehow I think that’ll bring Eddie around to you,” Haggerty said, grinning. “He likes things to be done in a nice way.”

“Oh, geez, Mr. Haggerty,” Ray said, then he couldn’t go on, and Mike, feeling envious and lonely, walked around the table and back to his chair, and stared morosely at Ray who sat clutching the paper in both hands. “I must have done the right thing,” Ray said. “I couldn’t think of the right things, but I did them. How is it a guy like me, when things get tight, knows what to do?”

“You’ll always survive,” Mike said, irritated by Ray’s relief.

“That’s a great trick — to know how to survive.”

“Paying no attention to Ray,” Haggerty said. “Mike, listen Mike, are you listening to me?”

“Sure, I’m listening,” Mike said glumly.

“Well, look Mike. This thing will come up in a magistrate’s court to see if you’ll be committed for trial and, of course, you can elect whether you’ll be tried by a judge or jury. If it comes to that take a jury. But listen. Tell this Louis Applebaum, as soon as he comes down here — right now, and for this, the preliminary hearing — get Roger Ouimet. Tell him to get Ouimet at once. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said slowly as he pondered. Then he jerked his head back more confidently. “That’s a real idea. I don’t care what it costs. It must be Ouimet.”

✧ XXV ✧

It had turned cooler. The weather was much more seasonal the morning at ten when Mike was brought into the police court to answer to the charge of manslaughter in the death of Harry Lane. The police court was in that courthouse where Scotty Bowman had been tried. But the magistrate’s court had none of the distinction or solemnity of that courtroom where Judge Montpetit’s court had presided. Before Mike had been called three drunks and a burglar had been sentenced by the beery little magistrate with the rimless glasses, the red nose and dandruff on his shoulders.

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