by Rick Blechta
Her voice had a distinct sneer to it. How had we grown so far apart in so short a time?
“Thanks for being so understanding. And for your information, she’s not my girl.” The next part would increase the friction again, but I decided to plunge ahead anyway. “How’s Kate?”
“Not very good. I can’t imagine why, but she was very fond of this Olivia woman.”
Something struck me. “How did Kate know she was gone?”
“She called Kate on the phone.”
It felt like my eyes were bugging out of my head. “When?”
“It might have been last night. I’m not sure.”
“Can I talk to Kate?”
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Goddammit, Sandra, I need to talk to my daughter!”
“She’s upset enough about your friend leaving and what’s happened at the house. You can’t talk to her. And with all the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, Jeremy feels I should get the custody agreement changed. I don’t want Kate staying with you any more.”
I lost it at that point and said some very nasty, regrettable things before ending the call. Too late, I realized that Sandra might have been taping the conversation, and if that was the case, I’d really put my foot in it. Leave it to bloody Jeremy to think of that.
With sleep now miles away, I flopped back on the bed and switched on the TV – just in time to catch the coverage of the crime that had taken place on my front porch.
It was a lovely end to a lovely day.
My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep when I got up next morning.
Something was nagging at the back of my mind, and it suddenly came to me in the middle of a hot shower that I had a gig to play that evening. Only problem with that was I had no drums. They were in the back of my impounded car.
We had to drive to London in the early afternoon, and that didn’t leave much time to get something pulled together.
Reaching out of the shower, I grabbed my watch off the sink. Nearly ten. I had two more drum kits in the basement of my house, but I didn’t know if the cops would hassle me about removing anything. I also didn’t know if I could face seeing the front porch.
I finished my shower in record time and dialed Dom. He lived in Unionville, and that had given me an idea.
“Dom? Andy. Look I’ve got a prob—”
“Andy? What the hell is going on with you? I’m sitting here reading the paper, and you’re all over the front page!”
“Wonderful. Things just keep getting better and better. You should have seen the TV coverage last night.”
“I took the kid to the hockey game last night and didn’t see any of the boob tube. Man, oh man, what’s going on?”
“Read the damn paper, Dom.”
“You still doing the gig tonight?”
“Yes,” I said wearily. “Only problem is I don’t have any drums. They’re in the car, and the cops have impounded that to check for evidence.”
“How can I help?” Good old Dom was standing up to be counted when I really needed him.
“Can you meet me at Quinn Musical around one? I’ll rent a kit there. We can drive out to London together.”
“It’ll be a tight fit with my bass, but we can manage it. Quinn’s at one. Got it.”
I called Ronald next. He didn’t have a television and had spent the previous day and evening rehearsing the fill-in vocalist, so he probably didn’t know about my problems either. I think the vocalist might have decided to spend the night, because he seemed rather distracted and really didn’t ask much in the way of questions, and that surprised me.
After assuring him I would be at the gig, I pulled on my now rather grungy clothes, left the hotel and crossed Dufferin Street to Yorkdale Shopping Centre.
I couldn’t go to the gig looking like I did.
When the taxi pulled into the industrial mall where Quinn and O’Brien had their businesses, I was surprised to see Shannon’s SUV out front. I hadn’t figured she’d work Saturdays.
Being a bit pressed for time and not sure how long it would take to get drum rental paperwork done, I went to the far end of the building to Quinn’s. Dom had arrived five minutes earlier.
The boss, Michael Quinn, was in that day, surprising since he’s once again a hot commodity in the music business. I’d met him years before and was flattered that he remembered me.
“Actually, your name came up last night.”
I cringed inwardly. He’d seen the news on TV. “It hasn’t been very pleasant,” I said, hoping to deflect any further comments.
“So Shannon tells me.”
“Oh, you know Shannon O’Brien?” I responded, too late noticing that Dom, standing behind Quinn, was gesticulating wildly.
Quinn seemed a bit embarrassed now. “We are, um, we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of years. She was at my flat last night.”
So now we were both standing there feeling awkward.
Dom said, “Andy, it’s getting pretty late. We have to hit the road.”
“Right,” Quinn and I both said in unison, then laughed.
I’d told one of his employees over the phone what I needed, and it was all ready to go. I expected to see some paperwork, but Quinn told me there wasn’t any.
“Why not?”
He smiled. “Because Shannon would kill me if I charged you. You can just bring them by next time you’re up this way. I don’t get much call for the rental of jazz kits anyway.”
It took a while to get the stuff loaded. Fortunately, I’d been carrying my stick bag to the house when I’d found Maggie’s body, so we were all set to head down the 401 to London.
The phone rang and Quinn listened for a moment, then said, “Actually he’s here right now, borrowing a drum kit. I’ll tell him.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Can you drop in and talk to Shannon?”
Dom was tapping his watch, impatiently signalling our need to leave.
“Can I call her later?”
Quinn passed that on, then stood nodding for a few moments.“Right, I’ll tell him. Yes, he does look like shit,” he laughed before hanging up. “She says it can wait until you get back. She’s got a lot of news, some of it very good. The main thing is that your friend Olivia is apparently back in California. She said you’d know what that means.”
We headed off to our gig with me in a much better frame of mind. I tried the O’Brien office twice but couldn’t get through, so I left a message that said I also had a bit of new information. The rest of the trip was taken up with me telling Dom what had happened since I’d walked into the O’Brien office the day after Olivia had been driven off in that car.
That night at the corporate function in London, Ronald’s replacement vocalist was pretty B-flat, but got through all her tunes relatively unscathed. The guy who’d hired us, though, was unhappy that we’d showed up with someone other than Olivia and let Ronald know it.
“Didn’t you tell him ahead of time?” I barked at Ron between sets.
“One vocalist is as good as another for these sorts of things.”
“Like hell they are!” I continued at higher than my normal volume.
Dom pulled me aside. “Relax. I think that was a good thing to have happen. Our Ronny needs to be cut down occasionally, and an employer has better effect doing it than you or I would.” Then he clapped me on the back. “Plus it’s nice when someone reminds him just how much we should be missing Olivia.” After our short break, I played better than I had in quite a long time. Anger always helps one focus.
Sunday morning started with another phone call. This time I was at least half-awake, so I managed not to knock my cell off the night table.
“Daddy?” came a tremulous little voice. “Katy?” Judging from the fact she was whispering, I had to ask the next question. “Does Mom know you’re calling?”
“Um, no. One of my friends snuck me her cell phone. I’m grounded,” she added disgustedly.
“You ha
ve friends who have cell phones?” Her more normal voice came out in her answer and dripped with ‘Boy, are my parents in the stone age’. “Of course they do. I’m about the only kid I know who doesn’t have one.”
“Tell it to the Marines,” I teased her back, and she giggled.
“Why is Mommy so mad at you?” she said.
I didn’t want to get into it, but I also didn’t want to lie to her. “Something happened the other night and—”
“You mean Olivia’s friend Maggie getting capped?”
“What did you say?”
“That’s what all the kids in school call it,” Kate answered warily, as if a parental tirade was imminent.
“No, no. How do you know about Maggie?”
“You know my friend Jennifer who lives on Pape? She called and told me. Mom wouldn’t let me watch the news.”
I took a deep breath to try to slow down my racing heart.“No, Kate. That’s not what I meant. How do you know who Maggie is?”
“She came over a couple of times when Olivia was babysitting. I didn’t like her. She made Olivia sad, but I’m sorry that she died.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Talk about the unaware parent!
“Do you know what they talked about?”
“Olivia always made me go to my room, but I’d crawl back to the top of the stairs and listen. Maggie wanted Olivia to stop singing with you. She said it was too dangerous. What did she mean, Daddy? Is that why Olivia had to go away?”
“I don’t know, honey. I’m trying to find that out.”
“Olivia called me, you know.”
“Yes, your mom mentioned that. Do remember what day it was?”
“It was on Wednesday after school. Mommy was still at work, and I got to the phone before the babysitting dragon could.”
When we were still together, I was normally around when Kate got home from school. Since both Jeremy and Sandra worked downtown, my ex had needed to hire a sitter. Kate didn’t like her, hence the name. I kept my nose out of it, but I did think it was pretty funny.
“What did Olivia say, Kate?”
“She told me she had to go away and that I should take care of you.”
“Did she tell you where she was?”
“No, but she sounded scared. She spoke so soft I could hardly hear what she was saying.”
“What else did she say?”
“Well, she said that she missed me very much, and...” Kate sounded a little weepy. “She said she was sorry that she had to leave without saying goodbye. She told me I should keep painting, that someday I’d be really famous.” Now Kate was crying. “Daddy, why did she have to go? I miss her so much!”
“Shhhhh, shhhhh, little Katy. Daddy’s trying to help her come back. I’m trying my hardest, sweetie; I promise.”
When she calmed down a bit, Kate asked when I’d be coming to visit her. I skirted the issue by saying that my car was in the shop, but I hoped I’d be able to make it next weekend.
“But I want to come to the house and work on our painting. Olivia told me I could.”
“Maybe next weekend, honey. We’ll see.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to tell me no.”
“You have your old dad figured out pretty well, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” she shot back in a pretty decent Valley Girl imitation. “Gotta go, Dad. Mom’s calling me. I love you!”
With that, she clicked off, leaving me feeling as if the whole world was spinning out of control.
I’d never thought of asking my daughter about Olivia, but it was logical that she might know something, since they’d spent so much time together. Now that we were off the phone, a thousand other questions I might have asked her flooded my brain.
One thing was for certain, though, if the cops found out Kate knew anything, they’d want to question her, and that was something I had to keep from happening at all costs. Sandra would hit the roof, and I might be left with all sorts of access problems because of it. Kate didn’t need that. Her life had been upset far too much when Sandra had moved out and had only recently begun getting back on an even keel.
And how in heaven’s name was I going to explain to Kate that Olivia might have murdered her own brother?
Picking up my cell again, I dialed O’Brien Investigates. I needed to find out what I should do, and I needed to find out fast. The old battleaxe might possibly spill the beans to the cops about Kate and Olivia. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew we could always count on her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.
***
Jackie was getting restless with all the phone and Internet jockeying she’d been forced to do. She hadn’t gotten into investigating for that. She wanted to be out doing things, not talking about them!
She did understand that the Internet had changed things in detective work, as it had in many other arenas. Perhaps more, since you could now get information at the click of a mouse that would have taken weeks to get with old-fashioned footwork. Still, she was five days into the first real case she’d worked on and there had only been one face-toface interview plus those tidbits she’d picked up at the Salamander from her visit there.
It surprised Jackie that her new boss could be so pedantic about how she did things. Sure, she was thorough, but things moved so damned slowly.
It was perfectly obvious to her that something dirty had gone on in the St. James family. Why couldn’t her boss see it?
From everything she’d learned about Olivia so far, she certainly didn’t sound like someone who’d bash her brother’s skull in with a rock. Even though the evidence against her looked conclusive, no one knew better than Jackie that lies could be made into fake truth pretty easily.
Absentmindedly, she rubbed the scar on her left shoulder.
Not able to relax, even though it was Sunday, she rolled things around in her head. She suddenly had a hot idea involving a bit of extra sleuthing, and if she hit pay dirt, she’d be able to drop it in Shannon’s lap first thing in the morning. Jackie knew she needed to rack up points if she wanted to be taken on steadily by O’Brien Investigates. Switching off the TV, she reached for her cell on the coffee table.
“Hey, Carolina, feel like some company?”
“I’m going to a concert this afternoon, but if you want to use the computer, come on over.”
“What makes you think that’s the reason I’m calling?”
“Well, let’s see. How about because the last four times you’ve called, you wanted to use my computer?”
Jackie bristled. “That’s not the only reason I come to see you.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to use my computer?”
“Look, if it’s so much of a hassle, I can always go to the library.”
“Relax, Jackie. I’m just yanking your chain. Come on over.”
As she put on her coat, Jackie looked over the wreck of her one-room apartment. One of these days she really should give it a thorough cleaning. Grabbing her backpack, she headed out. Today wasn’t that day.
Maggie, or Margaret, she thought as she waited for the streetcar, I’m gonna find out just who the hell you were.
Trouble was, Jackie would again spend her day on the Internet. At least she hoped it would be profitable.
The phone rang only once, but it caused Shannon to open her eyes, stretch, then notice that the sun was rather bright outside. A look at the bedside clock told her she’d actually slept in until ten past nine. How had her mother kept her son Robbie quiet for so long?
There was a light tap on the door, and Rachel stuck her head in. “You awake, Mom?”
Shannon smiled at her daughter. “I am now.”
“Sorry about that.” She came into the room with a mug of steaming coffee, its fragrance heavenly. “That was the answering service. One of your clients called for you.”
The detective groaned as she sat up. Couldn’t they leave her alone for one day?
“Do you know who?”
“Someone named Curran. He said that it’s really important.”
After a sip of coffee, Shannon said,“They all say it’s really important.
This one, though, probably is. Do you have the phone number where he can be reached?”
With a grin, Rachel pulled it out of her jeans. Now that she’d grown out of the goth thing, she’d become quite the looker, all dark wavy hair and luminous eyes. Her daughter was destined to break more than a few hearts. She pulled her other hand from behind her back and produced a muffin. “Grams said I should also bring this up to you, but you’ve sogged in bed so long, I don’t know if you deserve it.”
Shannon had said the same sort of thing to her daughter many times in the past – mostly on school days.
She laughed as she took it and peeled off the paper.“Thanks, honey. I’ll take care of this call and come down as soon as I have a shower. Tell everyone how grateful I am for letting me sleep in.”
After Rachel shut the door, Shannon took another sip of coffee and a bite of the warm muffin. Thank God for her mother. Without her, the O’Brien household would grind to a halt within a day.
With a heavy sigh, she picked up the phone. Perhaps this wouldn’t mess up her whole day, but she had a bad feeling it might. Just as long as it didn’t get in the way of Sunday dinner with Michael and the family. Her mother had promised her favourite: roast beef with Yorkshire pudding. Missing that would really irritate her.
The call connected with the familiar, “Andy Curran.”
“Shannon. What’s up?”
“I just spoke to my daughter. It was stupid, I know, but I never expected that she’d know anything.”
“Stop. Andy, I have no idea what you’re you talking about.”
He sounded tense. She needed him to get a grip so he could tell his story in an orderly fashion. She also wasn’t happy that she hadn’t thought of talking to the child herself.
Once calmer, Andy laid out his previous phone call succinctly. Shannon felt as he did, that keeping the child under the police radar was a good thing, but she was eager to talk to Kate herself.