The Devil's in the Details

by Mary Jane Maffini

  Eleven

  I opened my eyes to see a familiar paramedic. I didn’t remember which of my many recent disasters he’d shown up for.

  “Have we met before?” I said.

  Apparently this wasn’t all that intelligible.

  “Try not to move until we check you out, ma’am.” I closed my eyes again. I liked the sound of his voice, soothing yet uplifting, like ice cream. Mint chocolate chip.

  That voice was an appealing contrast to the sounds of my three sisters fussing in the background. What were they doing here? Where was here?

  I said, “Is it a cliché to ask, where am I?”

  “You’re at the bottom of a staircase in the basement of someone else’s house in the middle of the night giving everyone you know heart attacks, Missy. That’s where you are.”

  Ah, Edwina. Always one to stab a manicured nail into the real issue.

  For some reason, there were two of her. And two of Alexa and Donalda. I didn’t see any of my father. Two Mrs. Parnells stood close by, hunched near the wall and smoking a couple of Benson & Hedges. It was possible they stood next to some Alvins, but I couldn’t be quite sure. It hurt to turn my head.

  “Try not to move,” the mint chocolate chip voice said.

  Meanwhile, Edwina was warming up for a rant.

  “Save me,” I whispered to Mrs. Parnell. All I got was smoke rings. Quite a lot of them.

  “Ladies,” the paramedic said, “you’ll have to move off. We need quiet and light. And we don’t want the patient upset. That goes for you too, gentlemen.”

  I spotted two P.J.s lurking in the corner, next to the two gas furnaces. Four policemen were making notes in matching notebooks.

  “I repeat, you’ll have to clear the area.” The paramedic sounded like he meant business.

  Edwina grumbled. “Of course, let’s not upset her. She can scare us out of our wits, so we can drive an hour into town in the middle of the night, and that’s all right.”

  A slight scuffling ensued. Alexa said, “Come on. You can give her hell later.”

  “Sure, rough me up when there are no witnesses,” I mumbled.

  A cloud of sisters ascended the staircase, followed by a pair of P.J.s. The Alvins’ ponytails flicked out of sight along with them.

  The paramedic had less success with Mrs. Parnell.

  “I am equal parts disabled and litigious,” she muttered darkly. “And I had more than enough trouble getting down here.”

  “Let her stay,” I said. “Believe it or not, she’s a force for good.” I did not add that she was only seriously disabled when it was in her interest.

  The paramedic went back to tapping my toes and shining lights in my eyes.

  “Will I make it?” I said, pleased to note my words were actually intelligible.

  He stopped peering into my brain and smiled a chocolate sauce kind of smile. “We have to stop meeting this way.”

  “No argument here,” I said.

  Lucky me, the emergency room was quiet. My injuries were judged to be minor, but as we were dealing with a head trauma, I was X-rayed and examined without too much delay. “Let’s see. Mild concussion, some bad bruising, cuts, possible sprained wrist. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you for a concussion, is it?” The emergency room physician also looked familiar. He stifled a yawn.

  He was tall, dark and handsome and spoke with a Newfoundland accent.

  I read his name tag. Dr. Abdullah Hasheem. I was glad he’d mentioned seeing me before. I had started to think all doctors looked alike.

  “Mild concussion you said the last time. I haven’t been here for ages.” That was the best I could come up with.

  “Then you know the drill. Watch out for dizziness, enlarged pupils, sudden headaches, changes in vision. Mood swings. That kind of thing. Have a quiet weekend. Give your head time to get back to normal. No sports, no vigorous activity.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Magic words, I guess. I was pronounced too fit for the hospital and released faster than you can say toss her down the stairs.

  Back in my apartment, Gussie and Mrs. Parnell’s cat welcomed me with nervous sympathy and kisses. My sisters bustled about, making tea. They don’t do sympathy. No wonder the animals were on edge.

  Having the girls on the premises was not good news. They’d interrupted their weekend, and I’d racked up yet another pile of psychological debts which I had no intention of repaying.

  “Doesn’t she ever clean this place?” That was Donalda from the kitchen. “Do you think there’s any bleach, or is that too much to ask?” The swish of water followed, then the scent of citrus.

  Edwina was whipping the sheets off my bed, although Alexa had already raced her to the washing machine with the contents of the hamper. Not one to admit defeat, Edwina snatched up the various piles of newspapers and made off with them down to the recycling room near the elevator. So what? With the shape my head was in, I couldn’t read anyway. Plus, the only time my place ever got a really good cleaning was when I got injured. Maybe there was a better way to keep on top of the chores.

  My head buzzed a bit as I turned to Mrs. Parnell. I was grateful her many interests did not include housework. “How did you find me, Mrs. P.?”

  “You can thank our young Mr. Lynch.”

  “P.J. called you? But I didn’t tell him where I was. Oh, I get it. Did the alarm go off?”

  “Apparently, you made quite a racket falling down those stairs. Screamed your head off. An alarm was unnecessary.”

  “Did the neighbours hear? Their lights were on.”

  “No, our Mr. Lynch heard your terrified shrieks and hotfooted it to your apartment looking for you.”

  “Terrified shrieks?”

  “A direct quote.”

  “Hmm. He came here? I guess I didn’t tell him I wasn’t calling from home.”

  “I could not help overhear him hammering on your door.”

  “Ah.” If you don’t sleep much and keep your door open on the off chance the neighbours will do something interesting, occasionally you’ll hit the jackpot. Not a complaint. This wasn’t the first time Mrs. Parnell’s curiosity had worked in my favour.

  P. J., who had been loitering palely, broke in. “Lucky for you, Mrs. Parnell was able to let me in.”

  “But I wasn’t here. How did you find me?”

  “Technology, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “We checked the callers on your phone to see if there was a clue there,” P.J. said.

  “There wasn’t,” I said.

  “But there was. Perseverance. Cardinal rule,” Mrs. Parnell said.

  “Violet pressed ‘Last Call Redial’,” P.J. said.

  Mrs. Parnell looked suitably modest. “We were fortunate enough to reach Ms. Ekstein.”

  I said, “You mean her phone wasn’t off the hook?”

  “No, but what a mouth on her,” P J. said, “worse than yours. That’s one woman who shouldn’t get behind on her sleep.”

  “But Elaine didn’t know where I was going either.”

  Mrs. Parnell tapped the side of her head. “Using the old noggin, Ms. MacPhee. Once Ms. Ekstein stopped shouting, we were able to ask her why you had called.”

  “She kept going on about insulin. And refrigerators,” P.J. said.

  “All of which was in reference to your recently departed friend. Ms. Ekstein seems to have taken umbrage at your nocturnal calls,” Mrs. Parnell said, happily lighting a Benson & Hedges.

  “Violet put two and two together and remembered you had been concerned about something in this Laura Brown’s house.”

  “But you didn’t know where it was.”

  P.J. said, “You’d mentioned she lived on Third Avenue so we hopped into my car, since Violet’s was not where she parked it, and we were off to the Glebe.”

  Oops. I’d borrowed the Volvo.

  “We drove down Third until she spotted her car parked in a driveway. We deduced that was it.”

  “How did you manage to get in
to Laura’s house, Mrs. P.?”

  P.J. answered for her. “We hammered on the door. When you didn’t open up, we called the cops. Then we just opened the door.”

  “Just opened it? But I left it locked.”

  P.J. seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. I thought I knew why. “You’ll get a great story out of this, won’t you? Local lawyer attacked in vacant house. ‘Ghosts in The Glebe’. A little something for the comeback trail to get you out of pet story hell.”

  “I think I can get a better hook than that.”

  “I can give you a hook. That’s why I called you. The hook is Laura Brown.”

  Mrs. Parnell interrupted. “First things first, Ms. MacPhee. I’d like to know what happened to you.”

  “Well, I decided to head over to check out the fridge for insulin, because I didn’t remember seeing any.”

  “I thought it was handbags you were concerned about.”

  “That too.”

  “At nearly four-thirty in the morning?” P.J. said. “What made you think either handbags or insulin were urgent?”

  Mrs. Parnell looked hurt. “You could have called me to go with you. I was at loose ends.”

  “I assumed you were asleep, needing to rest up for the balloon festival. Anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  She sniffed. “You might not have been injured if you’d had backup.”

  “Don’t sulk, Mrs. Parnell. If it’s any consolation, I regret investigating without you. And I shouldn’t have taken your car without asking. I figured I’d be there for just a couple of minutes. What time is it now?”

  “Eight.”

  Double oops. “Mrs. Parnell, you must have missed the balloon launch today because of me. Sorry.”

  “The best laid plans and all that. As it turned out, the balloons did not go up this morning. Too windy. Young Ferguson is quite crestfallen. Did you see him this morning? He was also quite concerned about your wellbeing.”

  “Never mind. Give him time. I’m sure he’ll be mad at me again, soon. Will there be a launch this evening?”

  “It looks most promising.”

  “I’ll get your shots then. Honest.”

  “Back to the matter at hand, Ms. MacPhee. What happened in that house?”

  “I was checking things out. I didn’t turn the lights on, just in case the people next door called the police or something. They know Laura’s dead.”

  “Excellent strategy.”

  “So I called P.J. on my cellphone, as you know.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I was talking to him when I thought I heard something. There was no reason for anyone to be in the house. I’ve been reading P.J.’s articles in the paper, and I got it into my head a cat might have been stuck in the basement. I went to look, and someone pushed me down the stairs.”

  “Lucky for you, the vacuum hose fell in front of you and broke your fall. You probably would have fractured your skull,” P.J. said. “That’s crossed my mind.”

  From the next room, I heard Edwina call out, “I bet that’s the closest Camilla’s ever come to a vacuum cleaner.”

  Mrs. Parnell didn’t want to get sidetracked. “But Ms. MacPhee. I am puzzled. How could anyone get into the house without you knowing about it? Did you neglect to set the alarm when you entered?”

  “That’s the weird thing. The alarm was off when I got here, and I set it when I came in. No one could have gotten in without me knowing.”

  They exchanged glances, which is one of my least favourite things. “Don’t do that,” I said.

  “What?” P.J. said.

  “You know perfectly well what. You’re looking at each other like I’m crazy.”

  “No one would suggest such a thing, Ms. MacPhee. But the alarm wasn’t on when we entered.”

  I said. “I’ve been thinking about it. Logically, whoever did this knew the access code to the alarm. That means there’s someone around who knew Laura well enough to have the code. I bet the security company didn’t disable Laura’s old code.”

  “Are you sure someone pushed you?” P.J said. “You’d been up half the night. Violet tells me you’d had to identify Laura Brown’s body, which must have been rough, even for someone of your disposition. You were walking around an unfamiliar house in the dark. You were a prime candidate for catapulting down the basement stairs.”

  “There was plenty of glow from the street lamp and also light from the house next door.”

  “I am troubled, Ms. MacPhee. Why would you leave your cellphone in the kitchen and venture into a dark basement by yourself?”

  “That’s right, Tiger. Sounds like a bad horror movie. Were you wearing a bikini when you ran into the dark basement alone?”

  “Funny, P.J. I didn’t go into the basement, and I had my cellphone in my hand, just like any sensible person, so it was not being totally useless.”

  “You just thought you did.”

  “No, for sure, I had it. Hey. Where is it? I hope it didn’t shatter on the concrete floor.”

  Again with the looks.

  Mrs. Parnell held out my cellphone to me. “I picked it up.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  P.J. said. “Violet picked it up from the kitchen counter.”

  “What?”

  “On the counter by the fridge. You must have left it there. That’s what we’re saying.”

  “Don’t give me that crap, P.J. I had it in my hand.”

  “As the doctor no doubt told you, sometimes the brain does strange things,” Mrs. Parnell said.

  I said, “I am not imagining this.”

  Of course, everyone denied everything. My sisters insisted they hadn’t touched the phone. Who did I think they were? Come to think of it, who did I think I was? I gave up arguing, and the three of them resumed rearranging the molecules in my apartment.

  Mrs. Parnell puffed huffily at the suggestion she might have picked up the phone and moved it to the kitchen.

  “I am not absent-minded, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “I thought perhaps in the confusion of finding me and all that.”

  P.J. said, “I found you sprawled on the concrete floor. Violet stayed upstairs and called 911 from the kitchen. That’s when she found the phone. She came down to the basement after. I don’t even know how she managed the stairs.”

  “I am not an invalid,” Mrs. Parnell snapped. “That mobility aid is just for balance. I’m fine on stairs if there’s something to hold on to.”

  I said, “This proves my point. Someone pushed me and deliberately placed my cellphone upstairs so I couldn’t call for help if I happened to survive the fall. They put it where it would appear I had forgotten it. Then they left me. By the time I’d be found, game over. It could have been weeks, since Laura didn’t seem to have company. Now we know someone else had a key and the code. Means and opportunity for the perfect crime.”

  Mrs. Parnell blew smoke rings. “What about motive, Ms. MacPhee?”

  “We’re a little light on motive. I suppose I had one, since I’m the heir. I didn’t have much to gain by attacking myself. But if you hand me my backpack, I’ll get out the number of the security company and find out who else had an access code.”

  “Good thinking, Ms. MacPhee,” she said, handing over the bag.

  P.J. scratched his nose.

  I called the 1-800 number and gave my name and mother’s maiden name. I asked who else had an authorized access code to Laura’s place.

  “We cannot give out confidential information like that,” the voice said.

  “But it’s my house now.”

  “When we get the proper legal papers to prove that, then we can release the information.”

  “Wait a minute. Can you tell me if anyone, without naming names, was officially authorized. Besides me.”

  The voice hesitated. “I suppose I can confirm that. You are the only one, ma’am, except for Ms. Brown herself.”

  I hung up and said, “Okay. I guess it’s just me. This whole situatio
n started less than eighteen hours ago, when the cops showed up. All this weird stuff is connected with Laura’s death, but damned if I know how.”

  Mrs. Parnell lit a Benson & Hedges. “How curious, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “Yeah. It’s an intriguing story, Tiger,” P.J. said, “and, like you said, so far you’re the only one with a motive.”

  Twelve

  No,” I said firmly. The main thing with my sisters is to be wary of their body language and never let yourself feel outnumbered. They’d finished my apartment, my laundry and swept my balcony, considered some options for painting the place and made the usual remarks about my lack of matching china. Now they turned their attention to the last untidy detail.

  Me.

  “Look here, Missy,” Edwina said. “We can’t leave Daddy and the boys at the lake by themselves at lunch time. God knows what damage they’ll do.”

  “That’s right,” Donalda said. “I’ve packed your suitcase.”

  “Listen carefully. Read my lips if you have to. I am not going to the cottage.”

  “You really need a new bathing suit,” Alexa said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in yours.”

  I said. “I’m not planning to be caught dead. So it doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters. I don’t think there’s a scrap of spandex left unsprung in it.”

  “Here’s a scrap for you: I won’t need a bathing suit, because I won’t be at the lake.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Edwina said.

  Donalda would have picked up my suitcase at that point, except she was already holding it.

  Alexa frowned, “I suppose you can always wear one of mine.”

  “Are you all hard of hearing? I’m not going. I have a concussion. My legs are all bruised. I’m cut, I’m grubby. I feel like crap.”

  “We can hardly leave you on your own with a concussion and other injuries,” Donalda said with her peculiar MacPhee logic. I should have anticipated that.

  “For the last time, I’m not going. I’ll be fine here.”

  “I don’t think so, Missy,” Edwina said.

  “Then think again. May I remind you, I am a functioning adult.”

  “There is absolutely no need to yell,” Edwina sniffed.

  I said, “I’ll go Monday evening for the party. Which reminds me, shouldn’t you start preparations? What about marinades? Do you have enough ice? Is there gas for the boats? Are there tiny tears in the personal flotation devices? Is someone on the lookout for salmonella at the BBQ? Who’s getting the spare ribs?”