Law and Disorder

by Mary Jane Maffini

“I know, babe. You’re right.”

  “I knew they were bad news. I work hard to keep it nice, to keep it clean, to keep it safe for Destiny.” Her voice cracked.

  Bunny started to speak, but I cut him off. “Why did you feel that way about the notes?”

  She shot him a look. “Because of the way he hid them. Usually that’s where he hides items he’s fascinated with. Pictures of paintings. Clippings from the newspaper or magazines of some piece of art. Notices about exhibitions. You were his lawyer. You know his weaknesses.”

  “I do. Or I did. I hope he’s reformed. But, anyway, these aren’t artworks. They’re just pieces of paper.”

  “But they had an impact on Bunny. He was sneaky about them. I have always hated that.”

  Bunny said, “I’m sorry. I promise, it’s nothing for us to worry about.”

  Time to get back to the topic at hand. “So if you get another joke, Bunny, don’t touch it. Call me right away, and I’ll come and get it. Tonya, you’ll just have to give us time to do that. People’s lives could be at stake.”

  Bunny followed me to the door to say goodbye. He looked over his shoulder and said, “I don’t still have yesterday’s joke, but this came today. I didn’t want to say anything in front of her. She’s very upset.”

  I stared at the envelope in his hand. “You didn’t open it?”

  “Camilla, we both know that whoever it is, it’s too late for that person.”

  I said, “Get me a plastic sandwich bag.”

  He was back in a flash, and I slipped the envelope in the bag, trying to handle it as little as possible. As much as I wanted to see the contents, it wasn’t worth destroying any evidence that might have been inside.

  Bunny and I both shivered in the hot June sunlight. I dropped the bag with the envelope into my purse and headed for the car, wishing like hell I could really believe that Bunny and Tonya and Destiny had nothing to worry about. As I was also getting these bizarre jokes and notes, I would have been happier to think I had nothing to worry about either.

  Ashley and Brittany were still practicing whatever mysterious things people in dragon boat races do. Don’t ask me. Alvin was working on his cooking project, sifting through heritage recipes for fish chowder. Or possibly recipes for heritage fish chowder. Today would be test day.

  I called Leonard Mombourquette and got his voice mail. I had no more success with his cellphone. I left messages about the envelope at both numbers and got on with things.

  I didn’t have much to go on with the killer joke business, so it was important that I follow up on what I had. The little I did know worried me plenty. Plus I was in desperate need of a bit of exercise. If I don’t get in a forty-five minute walk every day, my clothes shrink. Luckily I lived in the Glebe, and I could walk to most places I wanted to go. At that moment, I wanted to go to Roxanne Terrio’s office.

  Half an hour later, I puffed up to an attractive vintage red brick house on MacLeod Street near Queen Elizabeth Drive. The large home had been turned into office suites. There was a brass plaque that said Terrio and Fox, Real Estate. The names Roxanne Terrio and Gary Fox were etched under that. The offices were on the first floor. The first thing I noticed was the scent of spicey pot pourri. The office looked comfortable and pleasant enough in a beigey kind of way. Of course, sharing space with Alvin for a very long time changes how you react to décor.

  The woman at reception was in her early thirties. She wore her dark red hair pulled into a high curly ponytail and she sported a startling set of eyelashes. Must have cost her a bundle. Still, it was an effort well worth it, as they framed remarkable brown eyes. She looked up in surprise as I entered. Or maybe that was an effect of the eyelashes.

  A small plaque on the desk said Beverly Leclair, Office Queen. “Hello,” she said, still smiling.

  I smiled back. Some people bring out the smiler in a person. She was one of them.

  “I’m Bev,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”

  She knew perfectly well that I didn’t and that it didn’t matter much to her because she could help me. And she would. But we had to play the game.

  “No, sorry, I don’t. My name is Camilla MacPhee. I have just put my house on the market, and if my luck holds and it sells in the next while, I’ll be needing a lawyer to handle the sale. I don’t have anyone right at the moment. And I noticed Roxanne Terrio’s name. I’d run into her a few times years back, so I thought I’d—”

  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

  “Something wrong?” I asked innocently.

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Haven’t heard what?”

  “She died.”

  “Died? Really? But she’s not even—”

  “About four weeks ago. It was an accident. She was on her bike.”

  “An accident? That’s terrible. Was she hit by a car? I can’t believe the way that city drivers treat cyclists.”

  “They said it was an accident, but she was so careful and fanatical about the rules of the road. About everything really, so I can’t imagine how it could have been. The road was straight, and she always wore illumination, and she had good lights on her bike and special mirrors. She was riding on the parkway in Gatineau Park near Pink’s Lake. They found her in a ditch, with…”

  I waited while she pulled herself together. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “I heard all about safety concerns from her every single day.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  “The police seemed to think that an animal ran out in front of her or something, and she lost control and ended up in the ditch. Her neck was broken.”

  “And you don’t believe that?”

  She raised her chin. “She was too cautious. I really think that someone must have hit her and then driven off.”

  Of course, I already knew that Roxanne was dead, but this careful and fanatical element of her personality was news to me. I thought there was a little subtext in Bev’s comments about Roxanne. Even so, I wasn’t supposed to know anything about Roxanne’s death. “I’m stunned. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. Did you say you and Roxanne were friends?”

  “Um, no.”

  Bev said, “You look like you’ve had a shock. Can I get you a cup of herbal tea? I have camomile.”

  I was taken aback to hear that I looked like I’d had a shock, since I hadn’t been in the least bit surprised. My sisters are always insisting that I wear a bit of make-up. I was glad none of them were in the office to hear this. I can’t stand camomile tea, but it would allow me to stay there and pump the cheerful and competent Bev Leclair for information about Roxanne.

  “I’d love one,” I said.

  Bev got up and moved to a refreshment station close by.

  “I just made it two minutes ago.”

  “Nice.”

  “We live the high life here.” She handed me a steaming mug and a napkin and said, “So not really friends with Roxanne?”

  “More like colleagues.”

  She headed back to her post behind the desk, wheeled out her ergonomic chair and gestured for me to try the two-seater sofa. “I wondered because I always kept up her Rolodex, and I just transferred everything to her online files and added a lot of business cards, and I’m sorry, but I don’t recall your name.”

  “I don’t think we ever even exchanged business cards. I’m not sure if she would have remembered my name. They were just casual encounters. I was at law school a few years after she was.”

  “Law school?”

  “Yes.”

  She turned to stare at me. “But if you went to law school yourself, why do you need a lawyer?”

  “I did criminal law. Thugs and robbers, for my sins. Never had the touch for contracts. In fact, that side of things was almost my undoing. Fell asleep over the small print.” I grinned because it was a pleasure not to have to make something up for once.

  “Oh. Well, I’m g
lad I don’t have to cope with you around here. It’s bad enough dealing with the ones who did choose their living in contract law.”

  I needed to get back to the main topic. “Poor Roxanne. She was so young to die. What a tragedy for her family too.”

  Bev pursed her lips. “She didn’t actually have any close family. I suppose that’s a blessing. It would have been horrible for them, not ever knowing what happened to her.”

  “Her friends then. They would have been devastated.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Sorry,” I added. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Well, you couldn’t know, could you?”

  “Know what?”

  “Well, I probably shouldn’t say this, but Roxanne was the only person I ever met who didn’t seem to have a single friend.”

  “Really? When I met her at whatever event years ago, she seemed pleasant enough, socializing with people, chatting.”

  “Perhaps something happened to her over the years. She didn’t go to meetings or networking events any more. She wasn’t the warmest person. I don’t think she had anyone but us, I suppose, and Moxi.”

  Ah right, the chihuahua.

  I said, “Moxi? A boyfriend?”

  “A spoiled rotten little pooch.”

  “Oh boy, but if she didn’t have any family or friends, what happened to the dog?”

  A man’s voice came from the door to the office behind me. “It’s spending its days here in the office, temporarily.”

  I looked up to see a man with prematurely grey hair and a gentle smile. A small dog danced around his feet. I wondered if he had been standing there quietly thoughout our conversation. “I know all about that kind of thing,” I said. “My temporary dog has been with me for years, and his owners are still very much alive.”

  He said, “Oh, I don’t think that will happen. Bev just needs to find a home for Moxi. She doesn’t want him to go to the pound.”

  “Does he stay here at night?” I had learned from Gussie that dogs need their cuddle time.

  “He comes home with me,” Bev admitted. “My boyfriend’s not that keen on the situation, but I hope we can work it out. Poor Moxi.”

  I was proud of myself that I didn’t say, “Get yourself a new boyfriend.”

  “I should point out that I also have a cat that’s been visiting for five years, and more recently some birds that are apparently just passing through.”

  Bev said to the grey-haired man, “Gary, this lady knew Roxanne and thought she could handle her house sale, so it was a big shock for her to find out what happened.”

  Of course, he had to be Gary Fox. He said, “For us too. One day the cops just showed up at the door.”

  “Here? Oh, because she didn’t have anyone.”

  Bev shivered. “Gary went to identify her. I would have had hysterics, someone you worked with so closely. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “Been there,” I said.

  He nodded. “It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t. The saddest thing was there was no one closer. Her parents died a few years back, one after the other, heart attacks in both cases. There’s a brother somewhere out west, but they were estranged.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Yes, it is,” Bev said. “It’s a reminder to put some energy into relationships that are not always easy.”

  That sounded like a reprieve for the dog-resenting boyfriend.

  I thought about my sisters and how I often wished they lived out west or even further away, so they’d stop their relentless age-old campaign to change everything about me into their own tall, blonde, neat, homemaking images. Still, I knew they’d make a real deal out of my funeral if it came down to that.

  Bev said, “But anyway, maybe Gary can handle your real estate transaction. He’s great. And I’m first-rate too, in case you’re wondering.” She grinned. I figured this was not a woman to dwell in despair.

  I said. “Sounds good. I’ll give you a call when the house sells. Do you have a card?”

  “Don’t feel pressured,” Gary said anxiously. “You came looking for Roxanne, and you don’t have to get stuck with me. I’m a big boy.”

  Bev said, “Sure, he has a card, and you will love dealing with him.” She stood up and slipped a business card into my hand.

  I glanced at the card and said, “I’m glad not to have to hunt around for someone else. We lawyers have to stick together. Everyone’s always dumping on us.”

  “They are?” Gary said.

  I was pretty sure I heard Bev snicker.

  I said, “Are you kidding? People even send anonymous lawyer jokes in the mail. Nasty ones too.”

  He frowned, scratched his head. “They do?”

  “Yes, and I’m getting sick of it. Totally uncalled for. You mean that never happens to you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’ve never received one. I don’t know that I’d worry much about it if I did get one.”

  Bev said thoughtfully, “People do send them.”

  I said, “Did Roxanne ever get them?”

  Bev said, “She did get one, actually. Not long before she died. She tossed it in the trash.”

  Gary agreed. “And I bet she said, ‘what a loser.’”

  Bev chuckled sadly. “You got it.”

  I put in my two cents worth. “Well, that’s the right attitude. My office assistant reads them out loud. Lucky me.”

  Gary snorted.

  Bev insisted. “I would never do that. What kind of assistant is he?”

  “You wouldn’t believe,” I said. “So for sure, these jokes got thrown right out? You didn’t keep any of them?”

  “I only saw one.”

  “Another thing,” I said. “By any chance did Roxanne get an envelope with her name typed on a blank sheet of paper after the joke came in? That’s happened to me, and I have to tell you, it kind of creeps me out.”

  Bev was looking at me differently now.

  I sipped my cooling camomile and waited.

  Gary said, “That is creepy.”

  “She did,” Bev said reluctantly. “The mail arrived after she left the office that last day.”

  Gary said, “Crazy world. Some people have too much time on their hands. Nice to meet you, Camilla. I’m sorry you had to find out about Roxanne’s death in this way.”

  I said, “Thanks for the information, Bev. I’ll give you a call if and when the house sells. Probably when. We have Jacki Jewell on the case.”

  Gary rolled his eyes. “Jacki Jewell? She’s easy to look at and hard on the nerves.”

  “No kidding,” I said.

  “Bev doesn’t mind Jacki, but that woman sure gives me a hard time whenever I deal with her which is all too often, because she can really unload properties. All to say, I’d be glad to have your business if you stick with her long enough to sell the house.”

  “Stay tuned,” I said.

  Gary waved, but Bev watched me closely as I left. The smile on her lips wasn’t nearly as warm and natural as it had been. I was pretty sure she was on to my little tricks.

  NINE

  It’s so cold today that the lawyers

  have their hands in their own pockets.

  I felt a chill as I stepped from the cheerful office. The temperature must have dropped about ten degrees without warning. It looked like rain too. I found myself shivering in the damp air and contemplating what to do next. With Bev’s take on Roxanne’s death confirming my fears, I knew it was time to go back to the police and to convince them. Best to start with Mombourquette, even though he hadn’t returned my calls.

  I hurried back home to get something warm and waterproof before heading to the cop shop. I checked the mailbox for a sign of an envelope. Empty. That was good. I checked the hall console which is the agreed upon place for the mail. Nada. I checked the kitchen table. Pristine. I trotted up the stairs and found Alvin on all fours in my bedroom. “I’m installing plug-in air fresheners in every room. I’ve three for this room, because of t
he Gussie factor. I hope it’s enough. They had a great special at Home Hardware, so I cleaned them out of Sea Breeze,” he said.

  “Jokes, Alvin,” I said, not wishing to be sidetracked by air fresheners. “Did we get a joke yesterday?”

  “Um. What?”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  “I’ve been busy, you know, because of the girls and the real estate person and all that and some of the mail got buried under a magazine and then Gussie chewed it up. There’s so much going on here it makes it hard for me to think clearly. And I may be losing my home, so that’s weighing on my mind too.”

  “I take it that’s a yes. And where’s what’s left of it now?”

  “Recycle bin,” Alvin said, looking aggrieved.

  “And did we get a piece of paper today? With a name on it?”

  “Lord thundering Jesus, Camilla. Do you ever stop bugging people?”

  I massaged my temple. “Did we get an envelope today?

  Of course, I’d already spotted the white rectangle sticking out of his skinny jeans pocket. “Don’t have to have a hissy over every little thing,” he sniped as he handed it over.

  “I see that you opened it.”

  “Gussie chewed up the envelope. I wanted to see what was on the note. Didn’t mean anything to me.”

  Let it go, I told myself. Just let it go.

  Since it was open, I checked the name.

  It didn’t mean anything to me either.

  I fished the chewed up envelope out of the recycling bin and used tweezers to put it and the envelope and the sheet of paper with the name on it into a resealable plastic bag. I drove over to police headquarters on Elgin Street, not my favourite place in the world. I found a place to park on Catherine Street and dragged myself over to the front door and into the vast open foyer. At the reception desk, I squared my shoulders and asked for Leonard Mombourquette. If I didn’t connect with him, I was going to have to break in some other detective.

  “Is he here today, or is he out mousing around?” I said pleasantly. No one smiled. There seemed to be a dark undercurrent around the station. Maybe it was my imagination. To reiterate: not my favourite place.