“Maybe I’ll come by tomorrow. The family wants to come over and see where she lived and all. And I want to try to find that guy Hoss.”
“Did you talk to Janet Sachs?”
“On the phone, yes. She wasn’t much help.”
“Maybe Ed, in the video store, might know some more.” I said. “He might have news about Hoss. I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”
“I called him earlier. Hoss is still among the missing. I’ll probably go by the store tomorrow anyway.”
“Okay, maybe we’ll see you. Preferably without the whole clan.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them well away.”
I went back downstairs and checked on Andy again. Then I gathered up the morning’s papers and took them into the bedroom. I did the puzzle and read the CARP stuff, then dozed off myself for a while.
When I woke up I went to look for Andy. He was awake, still lying on the couch, reading. Elwy was sleeping by his feet.
“Hi,” I said. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.”
“Want anything?”
“No. Do you want to do something? Play Scrabble or something?”
“I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather read.”
“No.”
He sat up.
“But I’m going to shower first. You set up the board.”
“There was a message from your mother on the machine. And Jim, too.”
“Okay.”
It was very peaceful. The soft afternoon light filled the room. I set up the Scrabble board, then sat down on the couch next to Elwy and stroked him. He woke up purring. Andy was back in fifteen minutes, with wet hair and pink skin. He looked wonderful.
“I opened some wine.” he said. “All right with you?”
“Perfect.”
I pulled the B from the bag, so I went first. I opened with “dread” with the last D on the double for eighteen points. Andy dithered for a long time, then tried “untailed.” While I was protesting, the phone rang.
“I challenge ‘untailed,’” I said, heading to the kitchen.
“I can use it in a sentence. The cat got untailed in an accident with the carving knife. Or, the criminal slipped past the surveillance and proceeded untailed.”
“Hello,” I laughed into the phone.
“Kate? It’s Terry Shaw. Do you have a minute? It’s important.”
“That’s fine.” I said.
“Johnny just told me something interesting. Remember last night before Johnny got there, didn’t Pete say he was home all last weekend?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Neil certainly said that he wasn’t in Toronto, and implied that he had an alibi for whenever your father was killed. I don’t remember exactly what Pete said. Why?”
“Well, it might be nothing, but Johnny told me that he tried to call Pete on Thursday night from the lodge, and didn’t get an answer. He left a message, but Pete didn’t return his call. He tried again Friday morning, and there was still no answer.”
“Have you asked Pete about it?”
“Not yet. But why didn’t he call Johnny back?”
“More to the point, why did he make such a big deal of Johnny’s being missing for a week?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
“There are two possibilities,” I said. “He forgot, or he never got the message. Is there anyone we can check with about where he was? Does he have a girlfriend or someone else we could call to check his story?”
“Just a sec.”
I could hear her talking to Johnny in the background.
“No, Johnny doesn’t think he’s involved with anyone right now,” she said.
“The detective in charge of the case is coming over later today and I’ll mention it, if you like. Is everything okay over there?”
“Fine. Johnny and I have been out doing some sightseeing, if you can believe it.”
“I hear you’ve been making funeral arrangements. I was talking with Tip Keenan.”
“Well, that’s mainly been Pete. He knows all the people in Milwaukee. The funeral home and the minister and all of my father’s friends. He just took over all that. I did some of the talking with the people here. You wouldn’t believe the red tape when someone dies in another country.”
“I can imagine.”
“Neil was good with the legal stuff, anyway.”
“It sounds like you’re all getting along better.”
“They’re blood, my family. I can’t deny that.”
“No, you can’t. Well, maybe you’ll have news about your mother soon. When are you going back to Milwaukee?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to leave until we find our mother.”
“You can always come back.”
“I will, believe me, and I’ll stay as long as I have to.”
“Keep in touch.”
We said our goodbyes, and I went back to the living room. Andy was looking grumpy.
“‘Untailed’ isn’t a word. Go again.”
“Of course it’s not,” I said, then put down “freckled” from the triple.
“That’s 116 points,” I said, reaching for the tile bag.
“Damn. Who was on the phone?”
“Terry Shaw.”
“What did she want?”
“It seems that Pete is playing a bit fast and loose with the truth.”
“Meaning?”
“He either forgot or hid the fact that Johnny left a message on his machine last week. Pete told us last night he hadn’t heard from him since before his father came to Toronto. Terry and Johnny think that’s a bit fishy. So do I.”
“Tell Stimac about it, then,” he said.
“That’s what I plan to do. He should be here soon.”
“Just in time to witness my humiliation,” Andy said. Putting “dilute” down from the last D in “dread” onto a double gave him fourteen points.
“Nice one,” I said.
“Don’t be condescending.”
“Well, excuse me.”
“This game involves no skill at all. If you get crappy letters, you get crappy scores. It’s as simple as that. How can I compete against luck like yours?”
“Luck? What luck? By the way, thanks for leaving the U next to a double.”
I put down “squaw,” for 34.
The doorbell rang.
“Saved by the proverbial,” I said, getting up.
“I’ll put the board away.”
“Don’t you dare. We’ll get back to it later.”
It was Walt Stimac at the door, by himself. In jeans and a navy T-shirt, he looked less starched than he had in a suit. But he didn’t look that friendly.
“Come in,” I said. “Where’s your partner?”
“He didn’t come. This isn’t official business, just me playing a hunch.”
He reached down and picked up something up from the porch. A green garbage bag, half full. He held it up.
“And it looks like my hunch has paid off.”
Chapter 39
I followed Stimac up the stairs.
“What’s in the bag?” Andy asked.
“It’s not a get-well present, that’s for sure,” Stimac said. “Can we go in the kitchen to open it? I’d like to spread out some newspaper or something.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It could belong to this bag lady of yours,” he said. “I hope you can tell me if you recognize anything.”
I went ahead of them and cleared off the kitchen table.
“I’m afraid some of it is a bit ripe,” he said, untying the dark green plastic.
The first thing he took out was her crazy straw hat.
“That’s Maggie’s,” I said. “At least she wore one like it.”
Next came some books, including the Duchess of Windsor book and the literary magazines.
“This is definitely her stuff,” I said. “Where did it come from?”
“That’s the odd thing, Ms. Henry. I hope maybe you can tell us why I found it under your back porch.”
I was stunned.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “I’ve never seen it before.”
I looked at Andy to see if he believed me. He didn’t.
“Honestly. I swear. Why would I have kept this from you?”
“She’s right,” he said to Stimac. “I think she’s telling the truth this time.”
“Thanks a heap,” I muttered.
“Then the woman must have put it there,” Stimac said.
“Or it was . . . Wait a minute. I remember something,” I said. “When T.C. and Anthony were looking for Maggie, they found some of her stuff, T.C. said. They’re our downstairs neighbours and they use that porch. I completely forgot about it.”
Andy went to the phone, picked it up, and punched the direct dial button for Sally’s apartment downstairs.
“T.C., can you come up here for a minute?”
He listened.
“No, right now would be better. It won’t take long.”
Stimac kept taking things out while we waited. More filthy clothes, a plastic bag full of little packs of ketchup and mustard from Harvey’s and soy sauce from a Chinese takeout. Soap wrapped in tissue. More clothes. A leather knife-sheath.
Elwy jumped up on the table to investigate all the treasure. I grabbed him before he could do any damage.
T.C. knocked, then opened the door and called.
“Back here,” I said.
He came into the kitchen, followed by his constant companion, Anthony.
“’S up?”
“Have you seen this stuff before? “ Andy asked.
“Sure, that looks like the bag we found,” Anthony said.
“We told you about it, remember Kate? You didn’t want to see it,” T.C. said.
I shrugged and looked at Stimac.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Where did you find it?” he asked T.C.
“It was with the rest of her stuff. Is it important?”
“Could be.” Stimac said, gruffly. “You should have reported it when you found it.”
“But Kate didn’t even . . . .” T.C. began, before getting my death stare.
“Kate is not the investigating officer.” Andy said, giving me one of his own.
“Be fair, Andy.” I said. “When the boys found that stuff, Maggie was missing and the police were giving us the brush-off. We didn’t know it was evidence in a murder. I was distracted, you were in the hospital, and I just forgot about it after the body was found. It was a mistake.”
“You’re right.” Stimac said. “Don’t worry about it.”
He picked up the leather sheath and turned to the boys.
“I need an honest answer here.” he said. “Think carefully. When you found this, was there a knife in this sheath?”
They both shook their heads.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” T.C. said.
“Honest.” said Anthony.
Andy cleared his throat.
“Look, boys. We would understand if you took the knife. It’s probably really neat. Or maybe you were keeping it safe for Maggie. You’re not going to get into trouble if you have it. As long as you turn it over.”
“I swear, Andy,” T.C. said, looking him straight in the eye. “There was no knife there.”
“All right. I believe you.”
They both looked relieved.
“Thanks, you can go now,” Walt said. Their faces fell.
“Is she your number one suspect?” Anthony asked.
“We sure want to talk to her.”
“But she’s not your only suspect, is she?” T.C. asked.
“Of course not.”
“She’s not the only one who would have benefited from Jack Carlson’s death,” I said.
“We’re aware of that.”
“I assume you’ve met the family by now.”
“This morning. They’re a prize package,” he laughed. “And don’t worry, I’m not counting them out. None of them.”
“Are you checking their alibis?” I asked.
“Kate, come on,” Andy said, and gave Stimac a “see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with” look.
“The reason I ask,” I continued, despite him, “is that I talked to the daughter just a few minutes ago, and it seems that Johnny wasn’t as lost as Pete said he was.”
I recounted the story about Johnny’s phone call and the messages he left for Pete.
“We’re checking on them all,” Stimac said.
“And what about the one who told Tip Keenan where to find Maggie?” I asked. “What about Hoss?”
“We haven’t found him yet, but we know who he is. His record’s all minor stuff. Causing a disturbance while drunk. Common assault in a bar fight. Shoplifting. Myself, I wouldn’t peg him for murder.”
“But he’s disappeared. Surely that means something,” I said.
“Yeah, it means Tip Keenan gave him more money than he’s seen at one time in living memory and he’s holed up somewhere with some friends and a bunch of booze and dope.”
“We’ll keep an eye open for him.” T.C. said.
Andy smiled.
“Is there anything else you need these guys for, Walt?”
“No, but I appreciate the help.”
“Do you think you’ll make an arrest soon?” T.C. asked.
“I think Staff Inspector Stimac said he won’t be needing you anymore,” Andy said, pointedly.
“Let’s go, T.C.,” Anthony said.
“Nice to see you again, Anthony,” Andy said.
“You too, sir. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I should be ready to shoot a few in a week or so.”
Anthony and T.C. both looked alarmed. So was I, until I realized what he was getting at.
“Hoops,” he said. “I’m getting back into shape.”
“Great,” T.C. said. “And if you need us, we’re ready to help. Don’t forget.”
Anthony tugged at T.C.’s arm and edged him toward the door.
“See ya,” they said, and were gone.
The rest of us stood around awkwardly.
“Well, if there’s nothing else.” I hinted.
“Oh, no, nothing,” Stimac said, putting things back into the smelly bag. “Like I said, this isn’t an official visit. I’m off duty, in fact.”
“Well, how about a drink then.” Andy said, getting it.
“Well, I wouldn’t say no. I’ll just put this in my trunk.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“Fine. I’ll take it down then, and be right back.”
He went off. I looked at Andy. He shrugged.
“Lonely, I guess. I heard his wife’s been up at the cottage all summer. Do you mind?”
“Not if you don’t. Do you want to invite him to dinner?”
“Is there enough?”
“I’m just going to roast a chicken. All I’ve got to do is put in a couple of extra potatoes and make a bigger salad.”
“Good.”
I kissed him. Distracted, he wandered past me and took down a couple of glasses.
“Rye, I think,” he said. “Do we have any?”
“Back of the liquor cabinet,” I said. “Where I keep it for the Saskatchewan uncles.”
Chapter 40
The evening showed me another side of Walt Stimac. That prudish-looking exterior hid a wicked sense of humour, and he had us both on the floor with impressions of some of the more colourful people he’d encountered
on both sides of the law during his thirty years on the force.
We stayed up far too late and drank far too much, but it was worth it to see Andy really laughing again.
We poured Walt into a cab just before two and went to bed without even thinking about cleaning up. At eight-thirty the next morning, we weren’t having quite so much fun.
“Remind me next time . . . ,” I started.
“Don’t say it,” Andy groaned.
“Remind me how revolting a congealed roasting pan is in the morning.”
“Please, no, don’t go on.”
“Remind me how gravy looks when it’s been left on the counter all night.”
“One more word, and I’m history.” he said.
“Oh, look, a half-full brandy glass. Want a pick-me-up?”
“That’s it. I’m going back to bed.”
“Chicken.”
“No.” he said, pointing. “That’s chicken. I’m Convalescent Man, and I’m going back to bed.”
I was about to remind him that the mess was caused by his friend, not mine, but a second look at his face convinced me that such a line of logic would be unsuccessful. He staggered back to the bedroom. I put on the coffee, took a couple of headache tablets, and began scraping and stacking.
By the time the coffee was ready, I had loaded what I could into the dishwasher and put the pots into hot soapy water, so I allowed myself a break. That’s when I discovered that I was out of cigarettes.
Walt and Andy are both typical reformed smokers, ones who lapse under the influence. It’s all very well for them. Next morning they’re back on the straight and narrow while the smokers they’ve bummed from are searching desperately through the ashtrays for long butts.
I managed to hold off through my first cup of coffee and a quick skim of the paper. Maybe today was the day I’d quit. But I caved in when I got to the crossword. A nicotine-starved brain can’t decipher anagrams.
I left a note for Andy propped against the coffee machine: “Gone for smokes. Back in a minute. XXOO.”
It was pouring rain, of course. I grabbed my jacket and an umbrella and walked the three blocks to the variety store on Broadview, questioning my sanity with every splashing step. I bought two packs of cigarettes, and red licorice for a treat. It’s a well-known hangover cure.
I had to pass the adult video store on my way back. I saw Ed taking his garbage out to the curb and started to cross the street to avoid him, but he spotted me and called me over.
Striking Out Page 18