An excerpt from
The Mayor of Côte St. Paul
by Ronald Cooke with an introduction by Brian Busby
“Come in,” said the blonde, closing the door after him. “You must like trouble.”
“Why Cherie?” he asked squatting down on the overstuffed chesterfield and lighting a cigarette.
“Because you just invited yourself to a whole mess of it. Know what that was?”
“Should I? questioned David.
“That was a couple of the Mayor’s boys.”
“The Mayor? questioned Dave.
“Geez, you’re dumb?” said the blonde. “The Mayor of Côte St. Paul—the top man in the slot machine racket, the house, and rum-running business. He operates between here and Windsor. The Mayor is just a nickname.”
“I’m a fiction writer—not a newspaper man. I don’t keep up with society,” said Dave. “But tell me where you fit in with this mob.”
“I used to work with the Mayor—got fed up with the racket. Now I’m trying to get away from it. But the boys have an idea I’ve joined a rival gang.”
“I get it.” said Dave. They’re afraid you’ll give away some state secrets.”
The blonde went to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of rum. “And so they’ve been trailing every move I make. It makes a girl kind of squeamish. I shouldn’t be telling you all this—but right now I don’t know where to turn.”