LITMIR.BIZ

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begun rocking gently back and forth on the couch, her hands folded across her chest and wrapped around her elbows.

      “You have a four-year-old son,” Rouleau looked at his notes. “Tommy.”

      Della’s eyes snapped onto his. “Tommy is coming with me. I won’t let Brian near him after this.” Her voice had risen to just shy of hysterical. “They’ve kept him in the playroom down the hall.” She started to get up from her chair. “I should go see him.”

      Rouleau raised a hand. “He’s fine, Mrs. Munroe. We’ve got someone watching. You’ll both be protected.”

      Her body eased back into the chair. Her shoulders hunched in like an old woman’s and she resumed rocking back and forth.

      Rouleau gave her a moment, then asked, “Has he ever hurt Tommy that you know of?”

      “Brian … he’s been working long hours. Sometimes his patience wears thin. Tommy’s active and, well, I suppose Brian has lifted a hand from time to time. I tried to prevent it by putting Tommy to bed before Brian came home or taking him to the park. Brian shouldn’t be around kids when he’s tired … or drinking.”

      “Last night you said that he’d been drinking, that you’d both been drinking.”

      “Yes. I made a nice dinner — lamb and potatoes, his favourites — and we shared a bottle of red wine. I had a glass and he had the rest. I thought he needed to unwind and I was prepared to have, you know, sex, until he got angry with me. He said I was dressing too provocatively when I went to class. We started arguing and he grabbed me. I told him that I wanted him to leave me the hell alone.”

      “Take your time.”

      “He … he pushed me into the bedroom and ripped off my shirt. I struggled but he held me down. I kept telling him to stop.” Her voice broke. “He was rougher than he’s ever been. He pulled off my pants and raped me.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks. She whispered, “He hurt me. I have bruises all down the inside of my thighs. It hurts to go to the bathroom.”

      Rouleau paused for a moment to give her time. “In your original statement you said that you took a shower when he left, is this correct?”

      “Yes. I felt so dirty. He made me feel like a slut. I curled up on the bed and must have fallen asleep. This morning, I just … I couldn’t let him get away with it. I was scared to leave Tommy alone so I drove us both here. I need this to stop.”

      Rouleau looked at Gundersund. “I think we have enough for now. The doctor was able to get a specimen of Brian’s semen. Can you follow up on that lab report?”

      “Certainly.” Gundersund packed up his notepad and went in search of the doctor.

      Rouleau leaned forward. “Try to get some rest, Mrs. Munroe. Other officers are picking up your husband now. We’re heading back to the station when we leave here to question him.”

      “Then, you’ll be keeping him in jail?”

      “It all depends on the judge and bail. With the restraining order, he won’t be coming near you or he’ll be arrested.”

      She nodded. Her eyes and mouth relaxed for the first time. “I’m going to start making arrangements to leave Kingston. Would that be alright?”

      “Yes, as long as we can reach you and you’re still in Ontario. You cannot take Tommy out of the province until custody is settled. Do you know the address where you’ll be staying?”

      “I’ll phone it in when I’ve confirmed. My family and I’ve been estranged since I married Brian. They never liked him. I lost my mother a few years ago but my dad … well, I’m hoping enough time has gone by.”

      “We’ll be in touch soon, Mrs. Munroe.” He handed her a card with his name and phone number. “If you need us at any time, call my cell number. Call 911 if you’re in danger, although we’ll do our best to make sure that your husband doesn’t contact you.”

      “I wish this had never happened. I wish I’d never defied my parents to marry him.” She lowered her face into her hands and began to sob.

      Rouleau and Gundersund entered the interview room where Brian Munroe had spent the better part of two hours. His hands covered his face and he didn’t stir from this position even when Rouleau greeted his lawyer, Suzie Chen. Rouleau had met Suzie once before on a youth justice case. Her reputation was that of a legal pit bull who tenaciously defended the down and out. She sat next to Munroe, expensively decked out in a navy power suit over a grey silk shirt buttoned to her neck. Munroe hadn’t dressed to impress anyone, wearing ripped jeans, a stained sweatshirt, and unlaced black runners.

      “Detectives.” Suzie nodded and put one hand on Munroe’s forearm. She could have been a child, so petite next to the massive bulk of Brian Munroe.

      Munroe finally lifted his shaved head and stared at Rouleau with baleful black eyes. He was a black man, the skin taut over high cheekbones and broad forehead. The corded veins in his neck bulged as he pressed his hands on the table and started to push himself to his feet. Rouleau thought that even with Della Munroe’s height and size, she would have been no match for her husband’s brute strength.

      “It’s okay,” Suzie said, and Munroe lowered himself back into the chair. She looked at Rouleau. “Brian’s instinct is to stand and shake hands, even with cops. He’ll get over it.”

      Rouleau spoke into the tape recorder, giving the time and the names of everyone present in the room. He confirmed that Munroe knew and understood his rights. When he finished, Suzie raised her hand.

      “We have a statement, if I may.”

      “Go ahead,” Rouleau said.

      “Brian Munroe denies all of the allegations put forth by his wife Della Munroe. He did not lay a hand on her, nor did he rape her.”

      Rouleau observed Munroe while she spoke. He was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath.

      “Is that right, Brian?” Rouleau asked.

      Monroe lifted his eyes to Rouleau. “Damn straight. The bitch is lying.”

      “Do you deny having sex with Della last night?”

      “We had sex yesterday morning. Consensual sex. I should have known she was plotting something.”

      “Why would she do that?”

      “Because I told her the day before that we should separate. She said this would be the last time, you know, for old times’ sake.” He hit himself on the forehead. “What was I thinking? Our entire marriage has been her playing me and me falling for it.”

      Suzie touched the back of his hand lying on the table. “I think we’ve said all we’re going to say at this juncture.”

      “Did you spend last night at home with your wife, Brian?” Rouleau asked.

      “I slept in the basement and left at close to four a.m. to start work at the bakery. I have no idea what she was up to all day yesterday.”

      “Have you ever hit your wife?”

      Munroe shifted and his eyes dropped to the table. His neck drooped so that his chin almost touched his chest. “Once. Once I grabbed her and pushed her off me. My fingers left marks on her arm, but that was it. I never lifted a hand to her otherwise.”

      “What about Tommy? Have you ever hit your son?”

      Munroe started to stand. “Damn that bitch all to hell.” He pressed his hands on the table and the muscles in his neck and arms rippled dangerously. “Is that what she’s saying? I never touched my son.”

      “We’re done here.” Suzie reached over and put her hand on his wrist. She swung her briefcase from the floor to the table, then stood and looked down at Rouleau. “Unless you plan to charge him.”

      “The Crown is laying sexual assault

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