is a no-no, honest. But I’d like a cigarette anyhow, okay? You want to know why? Because I’m going to make things really easy for you guys. I’ll give you a full confession if you give me a smoke. Sound like a deal?”
“A full confession?” Martin said. “Do you have something to confess, Mr. Lewis?”
“My cigarette?”
“Smoking is not allowed. We don’t make the rules, Mr. Lewis. We just follow them.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
“My way is that you cooperate, so we can get this ugliness behind us.”
George shrugged. “Whatever.”
McKean waited a few seconds, then he hit a button on the recorder. A little red light turned dark and the tape stopped rolling.
He said, “Off the record… let me tell you something, George. I’m telling you this, not so you’ll feel threatened, or in jeopardy, but so you’ll understand. By law we can keep you here for a long while, George. If we have reason to believe that you’re dangerous, or thinking about becoming a fugitive, we can keep you here for a very, very, long time. But if you’re smart, which I think you are, you can be out of here really soon. Helpful people tend to get along better than others, get it?”
He switched the recorder on.
Martin said, “Can you tell us what time you left home today, Mr. Lewis?”
George looked at the floor. He was done talking.
McKean, slightly swaying from character, said, “Should I remind you that we have thirty-two witnesses?”
“Unless I can have a smoke to help calm my nerves, you’re going to need thirty-two witnesses.”
After a bout of silence, Detective Martin stood up and knocked on the window. The door opened and Martin disappeared. A moment later he returned with a cigarette, an ashtray, and a book of matches.
He placed the items on the padded bench and said, “I’m not giving you a cigarette, Mr. Lewis. However, you’re a grown man and you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
“Thank you.”
McKean looked annoyed. He didn’t enjoy bending the rules, not even a little. It made him feel like a bad cop. “Are you going to talk to us?”
“You bet.” George took the cigarette, leaving behind the matches and the ashtray. “I was coming into Toronto from Oshawa,” he said, tucking the cigarette behind his ear. “I was alone. I got on the six fifty five. Like usual, a thousand people got off the train and nobody got on. The train, as you might know, brings commuters from Toronto to Oshawa in the evening time, and it returns to Toronto near empty.”
“Of course,” Detective Martin said. “Rush hour… everybody’s going home.”
“Exactly.”
McKean asked, “Why were you going into Toronto on a Tuesday night?”
“I met a girl a few weeks ago.”
“Name?”
“Kelly something. She’s a real cutie. We hit it off and swapped digits and I wanted to see her again. My wife and I are divorced… well… separated. We’ve been apart for more than a year. If it wasn’t for my little boy I’d probably never see her again.” George looked at his knees. His eyes stayed there for the longest time. His shoulders were slumped and his hands were clasped together, almost prayer like.
“You were alone?”
No response.
“Mr. Lewis? On the train, you were alone?”
In time, George said, “I was alone, sitting near a window. My car was empty and I didn’t have anything to read. There were a few newspapers lying around, like always, but I read most of them at work. I didn’t have much to do… except look out the window. It’s a nice trip most days. The train runs along Lake Ontario and the sun shines off the water. During the summertime you can see the girls sunbathing. Well, it took about ten minutes for the train to get rolling. And I’m sitting there, not thinking about much. Just looking out the window and watching the buildings roll by.” George swallowed uneasily. His fingers tightened and the muscles beneath his shirt bulged. His eyes drifted; he was a man lost in thought. “Then I saw the strangest thing.”
The room grew quiet and stayed that way.
Detective Martin began feeling uneasy. “Well, Mr. Lewis… don’t keep us waiting now. What did you see?”
George looked up, almost startled by the voice.
“A man,” he said, with a solemn tone. “At least I thought it was a man. I don’t now. He was standing in a field, close to the tracks. He was alone, wearing a suit and a tie. Black suit, black tie, white shirt. He had a little