by D. L. EVANS
“Come in,” was all he could manage. Lauren glided past him and entered the living room. She removed her coat in one fluid motion and passed it to him. She was as cool as ice cream. Shiny dark hair, loose to her shoulders, rose cashmere sweater and matching wool pants and a slight hint of dizzying perfume. His knees felt weak. Lauren Stone was here in his living room. Maybe there really was a God.
“Forgive this intrusion, Mr. Mackenzie... Mack. Are you alone?”
Still speechless, he could only nod.
She continued, “I needed to talk to you and I didn’t want to be seen at the police station. It’s sort of ... personal and I don’t want Adam to know that we’ve spoken. I took a chance that you’d be alone. Is it O.K.? Can I have a few minutes of your time?” Her voice was rich and breathy like whipped cream. He was fascinated. As he remembered from their previous meetings, the small TV screen didn’t do her justice.
He swallowed and found he could speak. “Sure. Make yourself at home.” He was relieved that his voice didn’t go up an octave or crack like a teenager. Face to face they were exactly the same height. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He gestured for her to sit on the large leather sofa. Did she know that Roger was under investigation? Had Adam let something slip? No. What was he thinking? Relax and let the woman speak. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins and he took a few seconds to ease into a discrete breathing exercise.
Lauren smiled nervously. “I wonder if I could have a cup of that incredible coffee that I smell?”
“Of course, of course. Where are my manners? You must excuse me but you’re the last person I expected at my door.”
She looked puzzled so he said “It’s been a couple of years but we didn’t exactly hit it off at Adam’s place. I know it was my fault and I’ve always wanted to apologize. My mouth sometimes shoots off without my brain being engaged... It’s always more difficult to grow up when you’re already an adult but I’m working on it.“
She paused and smiled. Mack waited for her to continue at her own pace. A loaded silence smothered the room. He treated himself to a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves.
“Actually," she finally said, "I’m here because of Savannah. After our first disastrous meeting I told her what I thought of you... in rather uncomplimentary terms, I must admit.” She looked down at her perfect fingernails for a moment and Mack flashed to the redhead impersonator at the police station who had done the very same thing, but so very, very differently.
“Funny,” she said philosophically, swinging him back to the present “I remember she laughed. She had that very infectious laugh, do you remember?” Lauren said as she looked straight into Mack’s eyes. He nodded, unable to speak. “Well,” she continued, “In a nutshell, she said that I should give you a second chance and get past my first impression. I always remembered that. She liked you a lot.”
“I loved her.” Mack said quietly.
Lauren’s eyes glistened slightly. The current of his thoughts, the twist of mutual grief, touched her. “Yes, well, we all did, didn’t we? Anyway, that’s also why I’m here.”
Thank you dear Savannah, wherever you are, Mack thought to himself. “Whatever the reason," he said aloud, "I’m glad because I always wanted to start again too. I’m much more charming and mellow these days.” Mack said.
Her smile put him at ease instantly but then he reasoned, she was also the consummate professional and she obviously did want something from him. His curiosity was piqued. She followed him into the kitchen and watched him pour the coffee into a preheated carafe.
“This is incredible,” she said admiring several expensive appliances on the counter. “You roast and grind your own beans?”
“That’s only the beginning: Mack said. “I do strive for perfection. Most women find it irritating, actually.”
She laughed again. He loved the sound.
They made themselves comfortable in the living room. She sat on the couch as he placed the coffee tray on the table before her. He poured the fragrant coffee from a magnificent china set, covered in a delicate rose pattern. “My Mother’s,” he explained. “The setting for twelve was a wedding gift, originally belonging to my grandmother. The dishes and a trunk of books were all she brought with us from Ireland. She treasured them all her life, her only luxuries, and since I’m the closest she got to a daughter...”
Lauren laughed and Mack continued, “I feel she would like them to be part of my life. Those books you were looking at, she read every one to me as a child.... Didn’t believe in fairy tales. Said life was tough and books would help to prepare me.”
“Sounds like a wise woman. You miss her, still?” Lauren said as she gazed openly at the surrounding room, quietly surprised at the tasteful decor and warm atmosphere. Mack nodded. “You’re not what I expected at all. And don’t ask me why because I can’t answer only that this isn’t it.” She tilted her head and smiled. He thought of all the tough guests that must have been totally disarmed with that smile. She continued, “I think that maybe I thought you might be all sharp edges. Glass and steel.” She turned her head and looked around, hair shining in the light. “Instead I find overstuffed leather, an interesting collection of books and delicate Spode china, that you have to admit, does not square with your image… then to top it off… the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks, I think.” He smiled and she noticed his dimples. “Are you ready to tell me why you’re here?” Mack said.
“Gosh, and I thought I was direct.” Another smile. “It’s Adam.” She paused and her eyes became serious. Another expression he logged into memory. “A friend of mine met him briefly and told me in confidence that she thinks he’s in real emotional trouble. Not suicide, but maybe a breakdown or something. He’s not coming out of mourning like he should be. It’s taking too long. She brought into focus a lot of things that have been bothering me too,” Lauren said “I just didn’t put it all together to see the pattern. I thought when he moved out of the lovely home that was so much a part of Savannah, well… that it would make a difference but it didn’t. He could have been in a tent for all he cared. I arranged for my housekeeper to fix the place up but I know that’s only a band-aid. I don’t know what else to do. The few times I’ve hinted at professional help, he practically took my head off. If he was still on the force there would be automatic grief-counselling available but I can’t force him. I’m here because you’re the only other person who seems to have any influence and he respects you.”
“What do you want me to do?” Mack asked. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.
“I’m not sure,” she said quietly. “He needs something to get him working again. I’m tired of hearing about the next book that I know he’s not working on. It’s an excuse. When he was on the force, I was always worried that he’d get himself shot or something... Silly, because I know how cautious he is and I can’t believe that I’m actually wondering if he should join the force again, you know, pick up where he left off. He was such a good investigator. He could do it again, surely. What do you think?”
“Did Annie Stanford suggest talking to me?” Mack asked quietly.
Lauren didn’t answer immediately. The question seemed to catch her off guard. He was thinking ahead. Lauren was used to doing this herself, and she appreciated his quick mind.
He continued, “She’s the friend that spoke to you about Adam, isn’t she?”
Lauren was not prepared to discuss her source but Mack was obviously in the loop about Annie. It was time to take back control of the conversation. “Listen, I’m not going to defend Annie and her... perceptions about Adam.”
Her eyes flashed and he thought about kissing her. “I didn’t ask you to,” he managed dryly. “I believe her. You’re both right. He is in trouble but I think you’re both underestimating him. Some people take longer to, uh, get their act together. It took me the better part of ten years. Its just taking Adam a little longer than say, the average guy but I beli
eve he’s making progress. Did you introduce him to Alison Stanford hoping that something might click? She even looks like Savannah.”
Lauren sighed to herself. It was obvious that he wanted more information than she wanted to offer, not a situation she was used to but maybe beneficial if she co-operated.
Lauren said “No, but... I was hoping she might get him at least thinking about getting back into some sort of social life again. She knows everybody. Do you think it was a bad idea?” Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t have any answers either but just between us, I think Adam is interested in the other one, the younger sister, Annie.”
“You think?” Lauren replied totally surprised. “He never said anything to me. If you’re right, I’m wasting your time but I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
Mack smiled. “I don’t think he even knows he’s interested, if you know what I mean. She’s just been on his mind a lot. Maybe there’s guilt and he’s not ready to let go of Savannah yet.”
“Well it’s sure time he did. This mourning or depression or whatever is killing him.”
“Tell me about these Stanford women,” Mack said.
She relaxed and thought for a few seconds. “I don’t know Annie very well yet, except that I like her quite a bit. Alison and I met at university about ten years ago. We were close for a while because we didn’t know anyone but eventually, we went our own ways. We kept in touch over the years.” Mack noticed that she studiously began fussing with her nails. She was hiding something.
“What’s she like? Alison I mean,” he probed gently.
Lauren shifted position in her chair. Mack felt she was forcing herself to keep eye contact; a sure sign that a lie was coming. “Clever. She’s very clever,” Lauren stated. She tilted her head and continued with a sincere expression. “Funny, eloquent, sensitive, has lots of interesting stories to tell about their extensive family..." her voice trailed off to silence. Suddenly, as if remembering something she added, “They all keep in touch, you know, the Stanford family, on the Internet. Very social. She’s usually the life of the party, easy to talk to... What else do you want to know?” It was clear that suddenly Lauren wanted to be somewhere else.
“Why don’t you like her?” Mack asked crashing through all her barriers.
“What?” Lauren looked startled. “I didn’t say that!’ she replied hotly. “We’re not exactly what you would call close friends… more like friendly acquaintances…” Her voice trailed off again as if she was searching for an exit line. Mack knew she hated not being in control of the conversation.
“Look, Lauren," he offered quickly, "this conversation is just between us, remember? Tell me what you don’t want to say. This is off the record. Who is she, really?”
Her eyes veered away as she measured some private thought and Mack realized that this woman would not be rushed or bullied. Then, something in her body language indicated to him that she had come to some favourable conclusion. She finished her coffee giving herself time to transform her feelings into words. “I liked her a lot at first,” she began softly, “but over time I saw some things that ... well... I didn’t like.”
Mack didn’t react, waiting for her to continue.
Lauren said, “The only people in her circle were ones that she could use. She once showed me a book with notes that she kept on people. I thought it was a diary but it wasn’t. There were stars beside names. The more stars, the more useful they could be to her. She went out of her way to do favours or to help her friends out... which looked great, right? But really she was building up credits so no one could refuse a request at a later date. She bragged about this to me.” Mack could see that she was not comfortable telling him these things but he remained quiet, letting her proceed at her own pace.
“Alison always thinks in a manipulative way,” she continued. “I'm sure she has a personality disorder. If you crossed her, and some did when they saw through her ‘favours,’ she wouldn’t rest until she had thought up some nasty revenge. She remembers every little slight that was ever done to her innocently or not. But any nasty she did to someone else, on purpose mind you, was according to her, perfectly understandable, deserved or forgivable.” Lauren continued, “She does not have a sense of humour but I’ve seen her pretend to laugh at jokes she doesn’t get. She manoeuvres conversations around topics that she researched so she can bait you into an argument. You must never criticize her judgement in any way. And if you happen to have another opinion contrary to hers, she pretends to listen but doesn’t hear. She just lets you flap your gums, making polite gestures and sounds until you’re finished and then continues as if your opinion doesn’t count. She never forgives, forgets or apologizes because she is never wrong. I know she once had tires slashed and has caused financial hardship to some student friends by arranging problems with their bank loans. Some of our professors were actually afraid of her in our last year. She practically ran the place using her wealth and influence as a weapon. I could tell you about dozens of times that she enjoyed getting even for some perceived insult, even bragging to me that she enjoyed carrying a grudge. I would never want Adam involved with her, intimately. Oh, she’s seen with the right people, even dates high profile men, but I don’t think she has ever been serious about anyone. She’s too self absorbed. She keeps that part of her life well hidden and if she even suspected that I thought, let alone actually said these things, I would be dropped like a hot potato and discretely slandered all over town; disastrous in my business.” Lauren gave me a serious look. ”So that’s about it. She knows everyone and most owe her favours. That’s how she likes it. Telling you this is the professional equivalent of shooting myself in the foot. ”
“No it isn’t,” Mack replied. “I give you my word that this will go no further. My work relies on private sources remaining private. Jesus, what a bitch. And Annie?”
“Alison is very protective of Annie. Not so much now, of course, but when we hung out together, there was a group of us; Alison always managed to keep Annie out of her social life. I just assumed that little sister was unfriendly or perhaps shy. I visited her home several times and never actually met Annie. She was always away or busy. If it weren't for the family pictures, I would have doubted her existence. Now that I’ve met Annie a few times, I understand her need, almost mania for privacy. But I think she’s a terrific person. I don’t think she’s anything like Alison. There’s certainly something very unusual about her and I absolutely believe that she’s right about Adam.... So, you think he may be attracted to her? That is interesting.”
“Yah, well he may have bitten off more than he can chew with that one," Mack said confidentially. "She thinks she’s being watched remember? And I happen to think there’s more to her than meets the eye, maybe like sis. More beneath the surface. That’s why I’m sort of unofficially investigating the family.”
Lauren gave him a smile that took his breath away. “You’re still looking out for Adam, aren’t you,” she said and touched his arm. The warmth of her fingers made Mack dizzy and he covered it by offering another cup of coffee.
“If I have another cup I’ll be up all night. I appreciate this Mack. Maybe I’m over-reacting but I feel better having talked with you.” Lauren looked at Mack, and then around the room, then her eyes came back and met his forcefully.
“Savannah was right.” She said. “I’d best be off now, thanks for the coffee.” She gave him a sisterly kiss and he had trouble trying to find a place to put his eyes. He was sure she would be able to see his feelings for her if he made eye contact. The door closed behind her and he leaned on it for a moment until his legs were able to propel him back into the living room. One step at a time boy, he said to himself. Roger the Slime is still on the scene. For now.
Chapter Twenty-One
ADAM STONE:
I called the Gallery and asked the receptionist if I could make an appointment to see Annie. The girl came back on the line and said Annie agreed to see me at her studio if I came righ
t away. The timing was right. It was an unusual residential address to say the least. It was at the east end of Toronto’s waterfront, not more than a few blocks from the site where the Mercedes had gone into the water. The entire east end harbour area still functioned as a busy port. For several blocks, it consisted of large square, two and three storey warehouses or storage buildings, interspersed with abandoned or rundown and boarded up structures. There were also acres of open ground where buildings had been demolished. A considerable proportion of the total acreage was now ‘undeveloped’ harbour property. Ships were moored alongside shabby piers, some carrying cement fro the St Lawrence Cement operation at Cherry Street and Lakeshore Boulevard, or grain boats coming in from the upper Great Lakes.
The most westerly commercial harbour operation still standing was the huge Redpath Sugar mills, about halfway along the north side, where there were usually one or two ships from Cuba or the Caribbean unloading bulk sugar into the silos. In stark contrast, a multi million dollar hotel and convention centre had been built on the water’s edge right beside the silos and conveyor belts, a sure promise of things to come.