Murder Is Uncooperative

by Merrilee Robson

  “How much?” I asked, my voice cracking a little.

  I couldn't believe the answer. It was $100 less than the basement suite I'd looked at the day before.

  “Do you allow pets?” I asked the manager.

  “A cat or small dog would be fine.”

  I could have kissed him. Rental places that allowed pets were hard to find. But I couldn't give up my son's kitten. Especially after all the changes Ben had already gone through in his short life.

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I'd love to live here.”

  After showing me apartment 505, Les showed me around the rest of the building. The “Waterview” part of the name was a bit optimistic. Perhaps there had been a view when the building had originally been built, before the trees around it had grown so large. But it was in a friendly neighborhood, close to a park, a community center, and a good library. Grocery stores were within walking distance on Commercial Drive.

  “This is a great building,” I told the manager. Up close, he had dark tufts of hair sprouting from each ear. These wiggled each time he moved. I tried not to stare. With his wide, lopsided grin and energetic way of talking, he was attractive in an oddball way.

  “It's an old building, but we've just finished renovating everything,” he said, gesturing around the wide lobby. “The hallways were wide already and the apartments were a good size, so we were able to adapt some of the apartments for people in wheelchairs.”

  He pointed to the doorway of the office. “See, no sills. And see how wide the doorway is. We've designed it so all the public areas are wheelchair accessible.”

  “My father will be living with us, and he uses a wheelchair. But my son and I will be living here too and we . . .” My voice trailed off. I could see the sunny apartment slipping away from me.

  “That's the beauty of this place,” the manager said, curls bouncing as he gestured in a way that seemed to indicate the whole building. “It's not an assisted living facility or anything with medical care. Most of the disabled people who live here can get along fine without any help. And only some of the people who live here have disabilities. But it's all wheelchair-accessible. “

  His enthusiasm was contagious and the design of the building was impressive. I really wanted to live here.

  We ended the tour back in the office where we'd started. The young woman, Ruth, was slumped at one of the gray desks, tapping at the keys of a computer. She had put on a pair of glasses with thick plastic frames.

  The office was a complete shambles. File folders and stacks of paper made unstable towers on each of the three desks. More towers of storage boxes lined two sides of the room, almost reaching the ceiling. The boxes obscured the one window in the

  All the chairs, except the one that Ruth was sitting on were stacked with more files and papers. She was staring intently at the screen of her computer, ignoring the papers piled on either side of the screen, as if this chaos were normal.

  “As you can see, organizing paperwork is not one of my strengths,” Les said, looking a little sheepish. “But it's not normally this bad. We just cleared out a storage room so it could be painted. I think we can throw a lot of this stuff out, but we just need some time to sort through it.”

  He pulled a form from the top of a stack of paper a foot high and handed it to me.

  “Let's see,” Les was saying. “You originally applied for a two-bedroom. With your father living with you, you'd qualify for a three-bedroom. Let's just update your form here.”

  I stepped towards the desk to find a flat surface I could write on, and tripped over something on the floor.

  I bit back a curse as I pitched forward. I managed to avoid falling. As I tried to steady myself, I dislodged a stack of books and papers from the corner of the desk. The edge of one binder landed on my foot with a thud I knew would leave a bruise.

  Les and I both bent down to pick up the papers I'd displaced. I saw that what I'd tripped over was a large metal plate that had been lying flat on the floor.

  Picking it up, I found that it was quite heavy. It was a square brass plaque announcing the opening of the cooperative over thirty years ago. A sharp corner had left a large scrape across the strap of my brown leather sandal and blood was welling up from the corner of the coral-painted nail on one toe.

  “Oh, I'm so sorry,” Les said, taking the plaque from me and placing it against the wall. It was out of the way there but looked like it could be knocked over quite easily. “Are you all right? Ruthie, can you get the first aid kit?”

  I grabbed a tissue from my purse and blotted the blood on my toe. “It's just a scrape,” I told him, but I could tell it was going to hurt for a while.

  As I bent over to apply the bandage, I quickly pushed the plaque so it was wedged behind a pile of boxes and wouldn't immediately drop on the floor again.

  “Are you sure you're all right?” Les asked. “I'm so sorry. That's normally bolted on the wall outside,” Les said. “We just took it down when we were painting and having the brick cleaned.”

  “I'm fine,” I said, ignoring my throbbing toe. “And I'd really like to live here. I think the apartment would be just great for my son and me. And my father would love it. But how many people are looking at the apartment?”

  "We do have quite a few people on our waiting list,” the manager admitted. “Lots of people would like to live here. But, see, we're here to help people in need. And you're a single mom, right? Little kid? Disabled dad? Not much money? You sound like a person in need. Of course the membership committee has the final say.” My heart fell, and then rose again as he winked at me. “They do listen to my opinions.”

  As I left the building, I saw the homeless woman waiting on the sidewalk. I must have been limping a little. She stared at my foot and, when I looked down, I saw that blood was seeping from my toe.

  “Don't go there,” she said, her voice croaking. “Bad things happen.”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Take this,” she said, pushing something into my hand. It was a small, tarnished pendant on a chain. Dirt covered the medallion face, but it appeared to have a picture of something with wings. “Guardian angel,” she said. I tried to hand it back to her but she backed away. “Take it,” she repeated. “You need it.”

  CHAPTER

  Three

  A month later, I finished unpacking the last box in my new apartment. It already felt like home.

  The movers had helped place the heavy furniture, and I'd been able to arrange smaller pieces in a way that made them look like they belonged there.

  Dad had the biggest bedroom, with space for him to turn his wheelchair. I took the second bedroom, which was oddly shaped but had a small nook perfect for my desk. It was near the window and would get morning sunlight, making it an inviting space to work.

  Ben's toys and books were unpacked in his room and his kitten was asleep on his bed. Dad had taken Ben out to explore the new neighborhood.

  Les had told me that a spot in the co-op's underground parking was included in the rent, but I hadn't yet picked up the remote that would open the garage door. I made a mental note to do that before the office closed today.

  I was happy with how things looked. The green loveseat and chairs my mother had picked out for their retirement condo nestled in a corner of the living room. The oak bookshelves fit against one wall as if they had been made for that spot. I was heading for the door when I heard a knock.

  It was Les, smiling widely and looking more than ever like a garden gnome. With him was a silver-haired woman who looked to be somewhere in her early sixties.

  Les was holding something out to me. “I realized you hadn't picked up the remote for the parking garage, and I wanted to make sure you had it. And I wanted to introduce you to Gwen, the president.”

  The woman was tall and slim. Her thick hair was pulled up in an elegant twist and secured with a silver pin that matched her dangling earrings. She was dressed in a linen tunic and pants in different shades of lilac. Her soft l
eather sandals were a deep violet.

  “Oh, I'm so pleased to meet you,” I said. “I just love it here. Les has told me that everyone is really friendly.”

  I saw the woman meet Les's eyes, and the manager shrugged slightly. “Well, we just wanted to make sure you were settling in,” Gwen said. “I hope you'll like it here. And you'll get to meet everyone at the meeting on Monday. You did get the meeting notice?”

  I nodded.

  “Great, well, we'll see you at the meeting,” Les said. “Just check with the office if you have any questions. Oh, and we wanted to give you a copy of the occupancy agreement you signed before you moved in.” He handed me a document about fifteen pages long. I remembered that most of it seemed pretty straightforward. I had agreed to pay my rent on time, to report any maintenance problems promptly, to keep my apartment in good shape. As Les had explained before, I would be expected to attend members' meetings and to participate in some committee work around the co-op. The document stressed that everyone would try to be considerate of their neighbors, but it outlined a dispute resolution process if I had a problem with the co-op or with one of the people who lived there.

  That didn't seem likely, I told myself. I was going to love it here.

  "Oh, by the way,” Les said, turning back. “I noticed on your application form that you were interested in gardening. It's pretty short notice, and I'm sure you just want to settle in first but the garden committee is having a bit of a work party tomorrow morning. Just some fall clean up, a little weeding and leaf raking. If you want to join them, they're starting at ten o'clock.”

  “I'd love to,” I answered.

  THE SUN STREAMING through my uncurtained bedroom windows woke me up early the next day, even before Ben was starting to stir. As I headed past his open bedroom door, I saw that Ben's kitten was awake. I quickly picked him up before he started meowing for attention. The gray-striped kitten was small but he was vocal when he wanted something. Ben called him Maui. Maui was a popular vacation destination for Vancouverites who could afford the trip. It was also the name of a Hawaiian demi-god. But Ben had named him after the sound he made. The spelling was my idea.

  Holding him close to my body, I moved to the living room and sat down with the kitten on my lap.

  I would need new curtains or blinds in here, I decided. The windows were wider than the ones in the condo. When Mom and Dad had sold the home I'd grown up in, they had rented that place. They planned to travel a lot, but they wanted someplace large enough for family dinners, for Ben to stay over.

  Then Mom found a lump in her breast.

  I looked at my watch. It was a delicate gold band that had belonged to my mother. It felt odd to see it on my wrist, but it somehow felt like she was close when I wore it. I sometimes thought I could still smell her perfume, a faint whiff of Chanel. It had been almost a year.

  I blinked back the tears and stood up. I could hear Ben getting out of bed. It was time to get him ready for the day, and time to feed the cat.

  Ben was scheduled to spend the weekend with Dave, so I wasn't surprised to see my ex-husband's number when my cell phone rang.

  “Did you need the address again?” I asked, figuring he needed directions to the new place. “We're just off Commercial Drive.”

  “Um, sorry Bec. I'm not going to be able to make it.” I didn't detect a lot of regret in my ex-husband's voice. “It's a work thing.”

  Dave was a sports reporter at the newspaper I used to work at. Games were scheduled well in advance, so he usually knew when he would be working. But sometimes things came up unexpectedly. That was the nature of the job.

  "So, when are you going to get here?”

  “Well, I'm not sure how long this will take. It might be better to just skip this weekend. Let me talk to Ben.”

  I knew Ben would be disappointed, but I was pleased Dave was at least willing to break the news to Ben himself. He hadn't been the most mature parent, and he usually left it to me to convey bad news. Dave was the fun parent, the one who took his son to hockey games and to the water park, the one who bought remote-controlled trucks and other expensive toys, who let Ben eat all the hot dogs he wanted.

  I was the parent who cleaned up the vomit after the hot dog fiasco, who bought the batteries to make the toys run, who made sure Ben had dry clothes to change into after going to the water park, who made sure he ate vegetables.

  It was clear that Ben looked forward to the time with his father.

  "Daddy!” he cried, grabbing the phone eagerly. “Are you almost here? You should see my new room. Where are we going today?”

  The look on my little boy's face broke my heart. “But when can you come here, Daddy? I want to show you my new room. And Maui wants to see you.”

  Tears were gathering in Ben's brown eyes as he listened to his father. He handed the phone back to me and rushed to his

  Dad came out of his room as I followed Ben down the hall.

  “Problems? Need any help?” he asked.

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, Dad. I think I need to deal with this myself.”

  Ben was sprawled across his bed, crying in the abandoned way children have.

  “Why doesn't Daddy want to see me?” he asked.

  I silently cursed Dave for putting me in the position of having to explain. “Daddy said he had to work.”

  “All weekend?” Ben was a smart kid.

  “I guess so. But, guess what, Benjy-bear? That means we get to spend more time together. So you can come help me do some gardening and meet some of the neighbors. How about that?”

  Ben was a good-natured kid. He soon dried his tears and was smiling again.

  He put on his shoes, and we went out into the hallway. As we were leaving our apartment, I saw someone heading to the door on the other side. She was a small Asian woman in her sixties, her chin-length dark hair heavily streaked with gray.

  “Hi,” I greeted her. “Are you one of my neighbors? We've just moved into the co-op. I'm Rebecca Butler.”

  I stuck out my hand, smiling in what I hoped was a friendly manner.

  The woman scowled and hurried past me to the door on my left. She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her with a bang that echoed through the hall.

  CHAPTER

  Four

  I was disturbed by the way the woman had acted. But maybe she didn't speak English, or maybe she wasn't a neighbor after all, just someone visiting. She'd had shopping bags and looked like she belonged, but I thought there must be some explanation for her rudeness. I put it out of my mind.

  We headed down to the lobby. Les had said that was where everyone was meeting before starting work on the garden.

  It was right on the dot of ten o'clock when we got off the elevator and stepped into the lobby.

  From what I'd heard about living in a co-op, I'd expected dozens of people. Had I got the location wrong? The office was closed on a Saturday, so there was no one to ask.

  Had they already started work? Maybe everyone had arrived there early and was already in the garden.

  I went outside to see if I could find anyone working in the yard. No one was there. The co-op's grounds didn't look like they needed too much attention. The large maple trees in front of the building had scattered some golden leaves on the front lawn. But the lawn itself was neatly trimmed, and I couldn't see any leaves in the flowerbeds that lined the building.

  The only thing that marred the appearance of the building was a rusty white motor home parked directly in front of it. I remembered seeing it when we moved in, but it had been parked further down the block on that day. Today, it was parked in a spot that would be a real problem for anyone wanting to move in or deliver something large.

  The door to the motor home was hanging open. I couldn't tell if that meant someone was inside, or if it was broken. The door looked like it might drop off its hinges at any moment.

  I looked around for anyone from the co-op. I did see the homeless woman I had met on the day I applied to move
in. She was across the street staring at the building with a scowl on her face. She didn't have her shopping cart with her but I was sure it was the same woman.

  I had tried to simplify our move as much as possible so I had given away a number of things I thought we wouldn't need in the new place. The small pendant she had given me was dirty and tarnished but I was reluctant to part with it. I wasn't superstitious, and didn't really believe that the good luck charm had helped us get into the co-op. And it was filthy and likely covered with germs.

  But it seemed churlish to throw something out that the woman had pressed on me so urgently.

  So I had cleaned it. When the charm was cleaned, the detail of the image was much clearer. It was an angel, the wings finely etched and long hair curling around a delicate face. The carving was much better than I would have expected from a cheap trinket. I had used some silver polish on both the charm and the chain and discovered that both were made of sterling silver. They were beautiful.

  I felt dreadful, thinking that a homeless woman had unwittingly given me something that could be valuable. So I was pleased to see her now.

  The woman gestured to me, indicating she wanted me to cross the street. I glanced down at Ben. I didn't want my son to be unaware that some other people weren't as fortunate as we were. But I still wasn't sure I should introduce him to a woman who seemed to have some mental health problems. Could she be dangerous?

  Ben pulled his hand away from mine as he noticed a car pulling up to the curb. “Daddy!' he yelled and ran across the grass.

  As Dave got out of the car, I saw a sudden look of surprise on his face. He recovered quickly, bending down to catch Ben as he hurled himself into his father's arms. “Daddy, Daddy, you came after all!”