Detective (36 page)

Therefore all the many gods and
religions were simply recent,
made-up fantasies.

Then why did so many people choose
to believe, Ainslie often asked
himself. One answer: It was mainly
their subconscious urge to escape
oblivion the dust-to-dust concept,
which, ironically, Ecclesiastes
spelled out so well.

That which befalleth the sons of men
befalleth beasts . . .

a man hath no preeminence above a
beast; for all is

vanity. All go unto one place; all
are of the dust, and all

turn to dust again.

Should the practice of religion be
discouraged? Absolutely not! Those
who found solace in it should be
left

DETECTIVE 299

alone and, if need be, protected.
Malcolm vowed that he would never,
of his own accord, disturb the
genuine beliefs of others.

As for himself, what came next?
Clearly he would quit the
priesthood. In retrospect he saw his
choice of vocation as a mistake from
the beginning a reality easier to
confront because of his mother's
death, a year earlier. At their
final meeting, and knowing the end
was near, Victoria Ainslie had held
his hand and whispered, "You became
a priest because I wanted it. I'm
not sure you really did, but I was
full of pride and had my way. I
wonder if God will hold that against
me as a sin." Malcolm had assured
her that God would not, nor did he
regret his choice. Victoria died
peacefully. But, without her, he
felt free to change his mind.

A flight attendant's voice on the PA
system broke into Malcolm's
thoughts. "The captain advises we
will shortly begin our approach into
Atlanta. Please make sure your seat
belts are fastened, tray tables
stowed, and seat backs restored . .
."

Tuning out those familiar words,
Malcolm drifted back into the past.

He stayed at the monastery for
another month, allowing time for his
mind to change. But his convictions
only deepened, and at the end of the
second month, he wrote a letter of
resignation as a priest and simply
left.

After walking several miles,
carrying all that he wanted from his
past in a single suitcase, he was
given a ride by a truck driver into
Philadelphia. Taking a bus to the
city's airport and undecided where
to go, he impulsively bought

300 Arthur Halley

a ticket on the next flight out a
nonstop to Miami. There his new life
began.

Soon after Malcolm's arrival he met
Karen, a Canadian on vacation.

They were in line at Stan's Dry
Cleaners. Malcolm, leaving some
shirts for laundering, had been
asked by a clerk if he wanted them
folded or on hangers. He was
hesitating when a voice behind him
prompted, "If you travel a
lot folded. If you don't, have
hangers."

"I'm all through with traveling,"
he said, turning to face the
attractive young woman who had
spoken. Then to the clerk, "So make
it hangers."

After Karen had left a dress for
cleaning, she found Ainslie waiting
at the doorway. "Just wanted to say
thanks for your help."

"Why are you through with
traveling?" she asked.

"Not the best place to tell you. How
about over lunch?"

Karen paused for only a moment,
then answered cheerfully, "Sure. Why
not?"

Thus their romance began, and they
quickly fell in love, leading to
Ainslie's proposal of marriage two
weeks later.

At about the same time, Malcolm
read in the Miami Herald that the
city police force was recruiting.
Spurred by the memory of Russell's
father, Detective Kermit Sheldon,
who had befriended the Ainslie
family, Malcolm applied. He was
accepted, and enrolled in the Police
Department Academy's ten-week
course, emerging with distinction.

Karen not only had no objection to
living in Florida instead of
Toronto, but loved the idea. And
having by now learned about his
past, she was perceptive concerning
Malcolm's work choice. "In a way
you'll be doing the kind

DETECTIVE 301

of thing you did before keeping
humanity on the straight and
narrow."

He had laughed. "It will be a lot
more gritty, but a hell of a lot
more practical."

In the end, it turned out to be
both.

After a gap of several months,
Malcolm learned that Russell
Sheldon, too, had left the official
Catholic Church. Russell's first
objective was simple: he wanted to
marry and have children. He wrote in
a letter to Malcolm:

Did you know there are seventeen thousand of us, more or
less, in the United States priests who left the Church by
their own decision, and most in their thirties? That's a
Catholic figure, by the way.

Russell, however, neither lost his
beliefs nor abandoned religion, and
joined an independent Catholic group
in Chicago, where he was accepted as
a priest, his unfrocking ignored. In
the same letter Russell wrote:

We worship God and Jesus, but regard the Vatican and Curia as
power-obsessed, inward-looking pachyderms which eventually
will self-destruct.

And we are not alone. All over America are about three
hundred parishes of Catholics who 've cut their ties to Rome.
There are more here in Illinois, five we know of in South
Florida, others in California. Don't have a full list because
there's no central authority and may never be. Our feeling is
that some "infallible" HQ, staffed by deputy-gods, is the
last thing we need.

Oh yes, we do certain things Rome wouldn't like. We let all
who wish take Communion, believing we don't

302 Arthur Halley

have to protect God from anyone. We'll marry divorced
Catholics, and those of the same sex if that's their
choice. We do our utmost to persuade against abortion; on
the other hand, we believe in a woman's right to choose.

We've no elaborate church, no fancy robes, statuary,
stained glass, or gold ornaments, and won't be buying any.
Whatever spare money there is we use to feed the homeless.

From time to time we're attacked by the Roman Catholic
Church, and as our numbers grow, it happens more often.
They're increasingly nervous, we thing An RC archbishop
told a newspaper reporter that nothing whatever that we do
has God's blessing. Can you believe that! Rome has the holy
ointment; no one else.

Malcolm still heard from Russell
occasionally. He continued to be an
independent priest, happily married
to a former Catholic nun; at last
report they had two children.

The Delta flight touched down
smoothly at Atlanta and taxied in.
All that remained now was the
two-hour flight to Toronto.

Gratefully, Malcolm turned his
mind from the past to pleasant
thoughts of the next few days
ahead.

5

Outside immigration and customs at
Toronto airport Malcolm was
confronted by a raised card reading
A~SLlE, held by a uniformed limousine
driver.

"Mr. Ainslie from Miami?" the
young man inquired pleasantly as
Malcolm stopped.

"Yes, but I wasn't expecting "

"I have a car here with the
compliments of General Grundy. It's
right outside. May I take your bag,
sir?"

Karen's parents, George and Violet
Grundy, lived in Scarborough
Township, near the eastern limits of
MetroToronto. The journey there took
an hour and a quarter longer than
usual because of a heavy snowfall
the previous night, only partially
cleared from the transprovince High-
way 401. The sky was gloomily gray
and the temperature near freezing.
Like many Floridians heading north
during the winter months, Malcolm
realized he was dressed far too
lightly, and if Karen had not
brought him some warm clothes, he
would have to buy or borrow some.

His reception at the Grundys'
modest suburban home, however, was
exceedingly warm. The moment the
limousine stopped outside, the front
door flew open and a flock of family
members streamed out to greet
him Karen in

304 Arthur Halley

front, Jason close behind. Karen
kissed and hugged him tightly,
whispering, "It's so good to have
you," which was unexpected and
reassuring. Jason was tugging at his
coat, shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!"
Ainslie lifted him with a joyous
"Happy birthday!" and the three were
locked together in each other's
arms.

But not for long. Karen's younger
sister, Sofia, tall, slim, and sexy,
eased herself in to give Malcolm an
affectionate kiss, followed by her
husband, Gary Moxie, a Winnipeg
stockbroker who gripped Malcolm's
hand, assuring him, "The whole
family's proud of what you do, Malc.
Want to hear a lot about it while
you're with us." The Moxies' two
daughters, Myra, twelve, and Susan,
ten, joined the noisy, fond welcome.

Violet Grundy, elegant and
motherly, with large eyes and a
sweet smile, was next, embracing her
son-in-law. "We're all so happy you
could come. A little delay doesn't
matter; what's important is you're
here."

As the others turned back toward
the house, George Grundy,
white-haired, erect, and not an
ounce overweight at seventy-five,
put an arm around Malcolm's
shoulders. "Gary's right, we're
proud of you. Sometimes people for-
get how important it is to put duty
first; nowadays so many don't."
George lowered his voice. "I gave
them all especially Karen a little
lecture on the subject."

Ainslie smiled; the brief
confidence explained a lot. Karen
adored her father, and whatever he
had said clearly had a strong
effect. "Thank you," he said
appreciatively. "And a very happy
birthday."

Brigadier General George Grundy,
an active-duty soldier for most of
his life, had served in the Canadian
Army in Europe through World War II,
where he was commissioned from the
ranks, survived some of the heaviest
fighting, and received the Military
Cross. Later he'd fought in

DETECTIVE 305

the Korean War. Since retiring at
age fifty-five he had been a college
lecturer, specializing in
international affairs.

"Let's get inside before you turn
into a pillar of ice," George Grundy
said. "They've planned a full
program for both of us."

The welcoming continued through the
day. The doublebirthday dinner for
George and Jason included an addi-
tional twelve people, a total of
twenty, crammed into the Grundys'
modest house. The newcomers included
Karen's older brother, Lindsay, from
Montreal, who, like Malcolm, had
been delayed by his work. With him
was his wife, Isabel, their grown
son, Owen, and Owen's wife, Yvonne.
The other seven guests were longtime
friends, mainly exmilitary, of
George and Violet.

Amid it all, Malcolm found himself
the center of attention. "It's like
having a real detective from TV,"
twelveyear-old Myra said after
plying him with questions.

Jason sat up, suddenly alert. "My
dad's a lot neater than those guys
on TV."

Others wanted to hear a description
of the execution Malcolm had just
attended, of the murders that
preceded it, and how they were
unraveled. Malcolm answered as
honestly as he could, though he left
out his final confrontation with
Elroy Doil.

"One reason for our interest,"
George Grundy said, "is the big
increase of violent crime in Canada.
Time was when you could walk out of
your house and feel safe, but not
anymore. Now we're almost as
gun-crazy here as you are in the
States." There were murmurs of
agreement.

During a discussion about
homicides, Malcolm explained that
most murderers were caught either
because

306 Arthur Halley

they did stupid things or failed to
realize the forces they were up
against.

"You'd think," Sofia Moxie said,
"that with so much information in
newspapers and novels, and on TV
about crime and punishment, they'd
know the odds are against them."

"You would," Malcolm acknowledged.
"But the murderers out there are
often young and not well informed."

"Maybe they're not informed
because they don't read much," Owen
Grundy said. He was thin and wiry,
an architect with a passion for oil
painting.

Malcolm nodded. "Lots of them
don't read at all. Some probably
can't read."

"But they must watch television,"
Myra said. "And TV criminals get
caught."

"Sure they do," Malcolm agreed:
"But the crooks on TV seem like big
shots. They get noticed, and that's
what kids especially deprived
kids want. The consequences come
later, when it's usually too late."

To Malcolm's surprise, most of the
group favored the death penalty for
murder, even crimes of passion. It
was an opinion-swing evident in the
United States, and now perhaps in
Canada, where capital punishment had
been abolished nationally in 1976.
Isabel Grundy, a homemaker and
physics teacher, with a brusque
no-nonsense manner, was vehement.
"We should bring back capital
punishment. Some people say it isn't
a deterrent, but common sense says
it has to be. Besides, those who get
executed are usually the scum of the
earth. I know that's not fashionable
to say, but it's true!"

Out of curiosity, Malcolm asked,
"What kind of death penalty would
you favor?"

"Hanging, electrocution,
injection I don't care which, as
long as we're rid of those people."

DETECTIVE 307

There was an awkward silence,
because Isabel had spoken heatedly.
Just the same, Malcolm noted, no one
contradicted her.

For the birthday dinner, a partition
between the living and dining rooms
had been opened to accommodate a
fifteenfoot table with colorful
streamers and party hats. While
caterers prepared to serve a
four-course meal, George and Jason
took their places of honor, side by
side.

George looked around and commented,
"I have a feeling something should be
said . . ."