Eric held up a newspaper. "The Algonquin Lode," he said. "We call it The Load of Bull." He rattled noisily through the pages. He cleared his throat and began to read in a slow, deliberate voice. "Algonquin Bay police were out in force at the corner of Timothy and Main streets earlier today where the body of an unidentified male, apparently murdered, was discovered in the coal cellar of a vacant house. Investigators have not ruled out the possibility that the murder was committed by the same person who killed Katie Pine last September.

"According to Detective John Cardinal, the victim had been savagely beaten, suffering multiple facial injuries, and the genitals had been kicked until they were almost completely separated from the body."

"Jesus," Keith said. "That happened here?"

"It took place right here in Algonquin Bay. Not far from this room."

"Jesus," Keith said again. "Imagine being beaten like that. It doesn't sound like your normal bar fight."

"Well, let's not rush to judgment. They don't say what the victim was like. Maybe he started it. Maybe the world is a better place without him. I don't miss him. Do you?"

"Nobody deserves to die that way. I don't care what he did."

"You're soft-hearted. Edie always goes for the gentle ones. Your girlfriend must love that about you. What did you say her name was?"

"Karen. Yeah, I don't know. Karen'd be happier if I were a little more future-oriented. She's pissed off right now."

"Tell me about the sexual customs in Toronto. I hear oral sex is all the rage. Is Karen a devotee?"

"Jesus, Eric." Keith had been slipping into the blood-warm waters of sleep. I'll just sleep a little more, he assured himself, then I'll get the hell out of here.

"I couldn't help noticing your penis, Keith, when we undressed you. Big pair of balls, too. Karen's a lucky girl."

Keith wanted to tell him to lay off, but he couldn't transmit the message from his brain to his tongue. That honey and lemon had really knocked him for a loop.

Eric placed a hand on Keith's knee, gripping it. "People don't understand the terrible things I've seen- the rape, the sexual abuse. I've had a rough time, Keith, and sometimes it makes me a little… uneasy. Would you like me to stroke your genitals?"

Keith tried to focus. God, what was in that drink?

Time passed. Five minutes, possibly twenty. Eric drew the covers up to Keith's chin. "I'm excited about this film, Keith. So is Edie. You're just right for the part. You said you like experiences. This film will be a new experience."

Keith finally managed to work his tongue. "What's wrong with me? I can hardly move." He was sinking down, down into oblivion, so he couldn't be sure if he just imagined this, but Eric Fraser leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then whispered, "I know."

23

"TELL me how good I am, Cardinal. We have this tape sitting here, I don't even touch it. You wouldn't have waited. You'd have listened to it five times by now."

"It's a character flaw of mine," Cardinal said, still stamping snow from his boots. "Did Len Weisman call yet?"

"No. I got the feeling you didn't want me to bug him too much."

"Two days, though. How long can it take to match dental records?"

Delorme just shrugged. Cardinal was suddenly aware of her breasts and felt his face color. For God's sake, he scolded himself, Catherine's sick in the O.H. Besides which, Detective Lise Delorme may have a cute shape and a good face, but she's also trying to nail me to the wall and I will not allow myself to be attracted to her. If I were a stronger person, it wouldn't happen.

Delorme handed Cardinal a postal carton the size of a shoe box. Inside, swaddled in bubble wrap, lay a brand-new cassette tape. Someone had written across the CBC label in blue Magic Marker: "Digitally Enhanced."

"I borrowed Flower's Walkman," Delorme said. "It takes two sets of headphones." Delorme handed him a pair and they both plugged in.

Cardinal cleared a patch of her desk and sat down, holding the wire that connected them like Siamese twins joined at the ear. He switched on the tape and stared out the window at a grader shooting up a tidal wave of snow. Immediately, he hit the pause button. "It's a lot clearer, now. You couldn't hear that jet before."

"You think it's up Airport Drive, maybe?" Delorme's face when she was excited became wonderfully animated; Cardinal could see the girl she had been. For a fleeting moment he thought he might be wrong: She really had left Special, she really wasn't investigating him. Then back to the horror on tape.

All hiss was gone. When the windows rattled, it was as though you could reach into that faraway room and shut them. The killer's footsteps rang out like rifle shots. And the child's fear, well, that had come through loud and clear on the first version. They listened through the last tears Katie Pine had shed. The killer's footsteps receded from the microphone. Then there was a new sound.

Delorme snatched off her headphones. "Cardinal! Did you hear that?"

"Play it again."

Delorme rewound. They listened again to the girl's last sobs, then the footsteps, and then, unmistakably, just a split second before the machine was switched off, the solemn chiming of a clock. Halfway through the third chime, the recorder had been switched off, and silence followed.

"It's fantastic," Delorme said. "You couldn't hear it at all on the original."

"It's great, Lise. All we have to do is match it to our suspect's clock. The one minor problem, of course, being that we don't have a suspect." Cardinal used Delorme's phone to dial the CBC.

"You got the tape, I take it." Fortier's radio-announcer voice came over the line deep and clear, as if he, too, had been digitally enhanced.

"You did a great job, Mr. Fortier. I'm worried you did a little too well."

"There's nothing added that wasn't on the original, if that's what you mean. With an analogue equalizer you're limited to boosting or suppressing frequencies. With digital, you can play around with individual sources. I split each source into an individual track- one for the windows, one for the clock, one for his voice, one for hers. What you have in your hand is the final mix, not intended for courtroom evidence, obviously, but possibly useful in other ways."

"Can you do anything about the man's voice? It still sounds like he's down a well."

"Hopeless case, I'm afraid. He's just too far from the mike."

"Well, you've done a terrific piece of work."

"Any engineer could have done it- assuming he heard that clock in the first place. I have the advantage of being blind, of course. Even so, I didn't hear the clock till the fourth or fifth pass."

"Sounds like a grandfather clock to me."

"Not at all. Listen to it. It's not nearly resonant enough for a grandfather clock. It's a shelftop- and fairly old, I'd say. What you want now is a clock expert- some gnarled old Swiss guy. You play it back for him, he tells you the make, model, and serial number."

Cardinal laughed. "If I can ever do anything for the CBC, give me a call."

"A budget increase would be nice. And say hi to Officer Delorme. She has a very attractive voice."

"Actually, Brian, you're on the speakerphone here."

"No, I'm not, Detective. Nice try, though."

"You like him," Delorme observed, when he hung up. "You don't like a lot of people, but you like him."

"He said you have a nice voice."

"Really? And about the clock?"

"Shelf-size, probably old. Said we should play it for an expert."

"In Algonquin Bay? What expert? Zellers? Wal-Mart?"

"Must be some place that repairs clocks. If not here, certainly in Toronto."

The phone rang and Delorme picked it up. After a moment, she held it out to Cardinal and said, "Weisman."