Deadline by Stephen Maher Page B

her bath, her second as she soaked in the tub, and was making a pretty good start on the third by the time she finished warming her leftover Thai take-out in the microwave.
    She flicked on the TV as she tucked into her red curry chicken and rice. The news was just starting. The lead item was the resignation of the prime minister. Ashton watched as Ellen Simms walked viewers through the news, showing Stevens addressing the Commons, then the Liberal leader’s attack, which seemed beside the point. The piece continued with more gracious quotes from Lesley Nowlan, the leader of the NDP, who congratulated Stevens on his decision and urged him to use the rest of his mandate to leave a positive legacy for working families, and Bloc Quebecois Leader Richard Tremblay, who said that Canadians and Quebecers, whatever their political views, should be grateful to Stevens and his family for his service.
    The piece ended with clips of Jim Donahoe and Greg Mowat, who Simms said were the most likely candidates to succeed Stevens. Ashton grimaced when Donahoe said that he would “leave the speculation to the speculators,” and thought that Mowat hit the right tone, although he struck her as a bit preachy.
    When Simms’s piece was over, the old reporter, Murphy, did a story on Stevens’s career, from his days as a Progressive Conservative member of the Ontario legislature, his decision to join the Canadian Alliance when he switched to federal politics, to his patient takeover of the party, and finally his three minority election victories.
    When the anchor set up the next item, about a helicopter crash in British Colombia, Ashton muted the sound, pushed her plate away, and thought for moment.
    She always voted – she had voted for the Conservatives in the last election, based on the Prime Minister’s promise to put more police on the street – but she didn’t follow politics they way most people in Ottawa did. She and her husband used to watch the news together, but since her divorce three years ago, she had stopped paying much attention. She picked up her phone and called Flanagan’s cell number.
    “How you doing?” he said.
    “Good,” she said. “Tired. That was a long day. How about you?”
    “Not bad,” said Flanagan. “Just dropped Jason off. We managed to catch the last two periods of the Sens game.”
    “How’d we do?”
    “Lost to the Leafs,” said Flanagan. “So where are we on the case?”
    “Well, I just watched the news,” said Ashton. “And there was a piece on about Stevens’ resignation. It looks like Donahoe and Mowat are the two main contenders to take over. Our victim works for Donahoe, and his girlfriend, Sophie, works for Mowat. There’s likely not any connection, but I should probably have a chat with Sawatski’s boss, see what files he was working on, get some understanding of his professional life. Did you talk to the reporter?”
    “Yeah,” said Flanagan. “But he didn’t give me much. Said he and the victim were loaded and he could barely remember getting home himself. Said he had no idea how Sawatski ended up in the canal.”
    “Did the kid know what happened to Sawatski’s cell phone?” said Ashton.
    “Fuck,” said Flanagan. “I forgot to ask him. I’ll call him in the morning.”
    “According to a message from the victim to his girlfriend, he gave it to Macdonald to hold while he went for a dance,” said Ashton.
    “Christ, I can’t believe I forgot to ask him,” said Flanagan.
    “Did you buy his story?” said Ashton.
    “I think so,” said Flanagan. “But I don’t think we should give up on him yet. I was thinking I should go to Pigale, show their pictures, talk to the bouncers, see if I can find the girl he had a dance with, see if the reporter’s story holds up.”
    Ashton laughed. “That sounds like a tough assignment for you, an afternoon in a strip bar.”
    “I will not rest in my pursuit of public safety,” said Flanagan.

    Jack was dog tired by the time he