Murder Is Uncooperative

by Merrilee Robson

  She sniffed.

  “You wouldn't believe the files. Les just had stuff in piles, as you saw. But I'm finally getting everything in place.” She smiled. “I feel like I almost know the co-op as well as Les did, after I've sorted through all those papers.”

  “I noticed that most of the boxes are gone,” I said. “Did you file all that?”

  “No, they're back in the storage room.” She frowned. “At least some of them are. I think the police took some boxes. Or maybe the cleaners did? I hope the cleaners didn't get rid of them. I think a lot of that stuff can go, but I wanted to sort through it all. There were files going back to the beginning of the co-op. I'm sure there are some we should keep.”

  “Actually, I'm interested in some of the old files. I offered to help Gwen write a history of the co-op. But I've only looked through one box so far. Are there others I could take?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I can get them out of the storage room. But can it wait awhile? I want to look through them myself. Les was looking into something before he died. I know he was worried about something and was going through some of the files.”

  She sniffed again. “Do you have a tissue?”

  I shook my head. I had picked up the plate using the only tissue I had. I realized I was still holding the plate.

  She shrugged and wiped her nose with her hand. “I still get upset about Les. I'd known him since I was a little kid.”

  I held out the plate I had found in the alley. “Do you know if someone from the co-op is leaving food outside? I found this plate in the lane. I've seen a homeless woman around and wondered if someone was leaving food for her.”

  Ruth looked puzzled. “I've never heard of someone doing that. But, as I said, I don't pay much attention to what the people in the co-op are doing. Still, it seems pretty stupid to just leave a plate outside. Did you find it on the ground?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe someone's feeding the feral cats that live around here. Or the raccoons? People think they're cute. But they really shouldn't. Raccoons are wild animals and the food could attract more of them. Or even coyotes. We sure don't want raccoons and coyotes hanging around the back where the kids play.”

  “It's already attracted a rat,” I said. “That's bad enough.”

  “Yuck,” Ruth said. “We sure don't need that. I'll ask Gwen about it. Maybe she'll know who it belongs to. It might be even be hers. I think she has china that looks like that. Or maybe Mariana. They're both always bringing food down to the office for us. It would be like them to feed a homeless person. But I don't think either of them would just leave a plate lying around in the lane. Leave it with me and I'll ask them.”

  “It's filthy,” I said. “I'll just wash it off and bring it back. I think I hear someone coming to talk to you.”

  I thought I had heard footsteps approaching the office but the hallway was empty when I looked out. “Sorry, I guess I was hearing things,” I said. “I'll be back later.”

  Back in my apartment, I filled the sink with soapy water and slid the plate in. Not wanting to take any chances, I added a splash of bleach. I left the plate to soak and went to the bathroom to wash my hands carefully. Seeing the rat had really creeped me out.

  Looking at my watch, I realized it was time to pick Ben up at his preschool. I hadn't made much progress on the work I had planned for today. I'd have to get some work done once Ben was in bed.

  Dad had taken the car so I needed to hurry to get to the preschool in time. When we got home, I found my father and Mariana in the front room.

  “I ran into Mariana at the community center,” he told me. “I was just leaving the pool when I saw her coming out of the library. So I offered her a ride home.”

  “I would have walked back if I knew he was going to offer me a glass of scotch when we got here,” Mariana said, swirling some ice cubes in one of the crystal tumblers my mother had given to Dave and me as a wedding gift. “I could have burned off some calories in advance.”

  “Surely there can't be many calories in a glass of scotch,” my father said.

  I almost laughed out loud. Before he developed arthritis my father had been very active. He and my mother had spent a lot of time walking, cross-country skiing, and swimming. With his long, lean frame, he had never worried much about his weight. And he still spent as much time swimming and walking as he could.

  My mother had been very petite and I don't remember her ever talking about dieting.

  I didn't think Dad realized that Mariana probably expected him to make some kind of polite remark that she didn't need to lose weight. But he surprised me.

  “I probably shouldn't say so, but you look pretty good.”

  Mariana's laugh tinkled like the ice cubes in her glass. “Well, that's very flattering, Angus, but I have to make sure the calories in don't exceed the calories out. We have to think of those things at our age, don't we?”

  “Speaking of calories,” I interrupted. The sight of my father flirting was a little unnerving. “I'm about to make dinner. Would you like to join us, Mariana? It's only spaghetti, I'm afraid. We tend to eat meals that appeal to a four-year-old, at a four-year-old's dinnertime. But there should be plenty.”

  “Yes, we'd love to have you, Mariana,” my father urged. “I'm sure a sophisticated woman like you usually dines much later, at a more sophisticated place. But I have to say my daughter makes a pretty good plate of spaghetti.”

  “Mom makes meatballs!” Ben added. “She says she learned how to make them from my Grandma, so they're extra special.”

  “Well, if you're serving extra-special meatballs, I don't see how I can resist the invitation,” Mariana said, smiling at him.

  So, with dinner and getting Ben to bed, it was late by the time I realized I had forgotten to ask Mariana if the plate was one of hers, or if she knew who it belonged to.

  And I had meant to return the plate to the office.

  I decided it was too late. Ruth would surely have left the office by now. It could wait until later, I decided.

  CHAPTER

  Fifteen

  I was pleased to see an email from Dave the next morning, with a newspaper article attached. Dave wasn't the most reliable person, so I was glad to see he had actually followed up on my request for articles on the girls who had gone missing from the co-op.

  I clicked eagerly on the attachment. “HAVE YOU SEEN THESE GIRLS?” was the headline from the Province, the morning tabloid newspaper.

  HAVE YOU SEEN THESE GIRLS?

  Jessica Anderson and Amy Cole, both 15, have been missing since yesterday afternoon. Anyone with information is asked to contact the police.

  And that was it. I looked back at Dave's message, hoping I'd missed another attachment. This was obviously the very earliest article, when the girls had first disappeared. But I already knew they had disappeared. I wanted to know what had happened to them. I was staring at my computer screen in frustration when my phone rang.

  “Did you get that article I sent you?” I heard Dave asking.

  “Is that all you could find?” I asked, trying not to sound critical.

  “So far. It's old, so I couldn't find the files online. I had to ask the staff at the library. They should be able to find more, but it'll have to wait until next week.”

  "Next week?”

  “Yeah, they'll be back on Tuesday. They're off for the long weekend.”

  “Long weekend?” I asked.

  “Yes, Rebecca,” Dave said. “I know you don't work regular hours any more, but I thought you'd remember Thanksgiving. I'm covering a game tomorrow, but I'm off for a couple of days after I file my story. I'll see what I can find out for you next week.”

  Damn. Not only was I going to have to wait to find out if the paper had more information on the disappearance in the co-op, but I'd forgotten Thanksgiving!

  There were usually lots of reminders—flyers advertising turkeys on sale, craft projects from Ben's preschool. And it was an important family holiday
. I'd been distracted by what was going on in the co-op. But maybe there was another reason I hadn't considered the holiday.

  I thought back to last year. Mom had been in the final stages of her cancer, in palliative care. Dave was being uncharacteristically helpful and had taken Ben for the weekend. I was pretty sure he hadn't cooked a turkey, but Ben seemed to have had a good time.

  And Dad and I had not been the least bit interested in celebrating the holiday. Mom had always made a pretty big deal of holidays, cooking dinner for the family and inviting friends over. She usually made a point of inviting people who didn't have close family and who wouldn't have a celebratory dinner otherwise.

  Last year Dad and I had just grabbed something to eat and headed for the palliative care center to spend time with Mom. We hadn't thought we had much to celebrate.

  But this year we had a new home. And I still had my father and my son. They deserved a good holiday. And we were making some new co-op friends. Mom would have wanted me to carry on the tradition. I shuffled the papers into file folders.

  I had a turkey to buy. I hoped I hadn't left it too late.

  I had time to stop at the store before picking Ben up, especially if I could use the car. I wasn't sure how Dad would feel about a Thanksgiving celebration. Each of the holidays without my mother had been hard on us. I was really dreading Christmas, but knew I had to make it special for Ben.

  I found my father reading in the living room.

  “Hey, Dad. I was just talking to Dave, and he reminded me that it's Thanksgiving this weekend. Are you up for Thanks-giving dinner? I thought I'd pick up a turkey.”

  He considered for a minute. “That'd be nice. But isn't our family a little small for a whole turkey these days?”

  “I thought I might invite some of the people from the co-op. I met this young couple at the co-op meeting. I don't think they have any family nearby. And Gwen, the president, seems pretty upset about Les and everything else going on in the co-op. She might enjoy dinner, if she doesn't already have plans.”

  Dad perked up. “I think Mariana next door is on her own. She mentioned that her son plans to move back to Vancouver but not yet. And it doesn't sound like she has anyone else.”

  Interesting. Was Dad just being neighborly or was he showing interest in Mariana? Either way, it was a good idea.

  “Great. Well, I'll get some stuff before I pick up Ben. Okay, if I take the car, or will you need it?”

  He smiled. “That's fine. I'm not planning on going anywhere. And it sounds like you'll need the car if you're buying everything for a big Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Fortunately the store still had turkeys for sale, and I managed to find one I thought would work for our gathering. I picked up potatoes, cranberries and a range of vegetables. I remembered a recipe for pumpkin cheesecake I'd read in the newspaper and used my phone to check the paper's website for the recipe. I wasn't much of a baker but it sounded easy enough. With the ingredients for that added to the cart, I thought I was ready for Thanksgiving.

  I probably should have invited people first, I thought. Then I'd know how much food to buy. But Mom had always approached the holidays with such a casual, welcoming attitude, preparing a feast and inviting a crowd. I hoped I could learn from her example.

  Ben ran to greet me when I arrived at his pre-school. He was clutching sheets of paper coated with bright paint. He handed me one with round splotches of bright orange paint dotted all over it. “A pumpkin patch!” I exclaimed. “Beautiful.”

  Ben grinned. “I made that one for Grandpa. And this one's for Daddy. I told the teacher you all had to have one.”

  Dave's picture featured round brown splotches, which I guessed were turkeys. “And this one's for you, Mommy.”

  Mine showed a brick-colored rectangle covered at random with other squares and rectangles. Stick people were lined up in front of it, along with a round object that looked like a cat. It was the same size as the people. The painting was done with a four-year-old's style but the subject was unmistakable.

  “It's the co-op,” Ben said. “This is me, and you and Grandpa. And Maui,” he added, pointing to the round spot I had guessed was a cat. “And these are all our friends in the co-op.”

  “It's beautiful,” I said, hugging him. “Thank you so much, baby.” I was glad I was planning a Thanksgiving dinner. Despite the problems in the co-op, my little boy was happy there. And I was giving thanks for that.

  I was unloading my groceries from the car, finding a light bag Ben could carry, when Jeremy pulled into the parking lot. He pulled into his spot and walked back to our car with a lithe grace I couldn't help admiring.

  “Need a hand?” he asked.

  I almost shook my head and then glanced at the piles of bags in the trunk. I clearly needed help, unless I was going to make multiple trips. “Might as well take advantage of another man with strong arms,” I said. “Thanks for the offer.”

  Oh, my gawd, had I actually said that? Take advantage of...

  I gestured to Ben. “I mean, I already have one man with strong arms but another would be great.”

  Jeremy appeared not to notice my embarrassment, but I did think I saw a small grin on his face as he bent over the trunk to gather the bags. “Glad to be taken advantage of.”

  My face was red as we headed for the elevator, but Ben chatted happily. Jeremy helped me carry everything into the kitchen and even lifted the heavy turkey into the fridge.

  “That's quite the beast,” he commented. “Are you having a lot of family over?”

  I laughed. “No, there's just us. It was the smallest one I could find. I think I might have left the shopping a bit late. But my mother always had a tradition of inviting lots of friends for holiday dinners, especially people who had nowhere else to go. We haven't done much in the way of celebration since she died. But I thought I'd put something together . . . maybe invite a few people from the co-op.” I looked at him. “Say, Jeremy, do you have plans?”

  He smiled. I found myself momentarily distracted by how white and even his teeth were, and how his short red beard framed his mouth.

  “Nope,” he answered. “I do have my son this weekend. But, I'm sorry to say, I haven't even thought about a turkey. It's a bit much for just the two of us.”

  "Then why don't you both join us? I'm sure Ben would enjoy having another kid around. As for the dinner, I won't promise it will be anywhere near as good as my mom's but I'll do my best.”

  We agreed on Sunday at 5:30. After he left, I grabbed the phone and the list of co-op members. I hoped a few other people were free.

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  It would be awkward if it was just Jeremy and our family. He'd think the invitation was more than the friendly gesture I'd intended.

  But was that really all I intended? It had been so long since I'd paid any attention to a man. But he was very good looking and I thought I liked him. Maybe I did want to get to know him as more than a neighbor. And maybe he wanted that too. This would be a chance to find out.

  “I've already phoned Mariana,” Dad called from the living room. So he'd taken the initiative to invite her, I thought. That made it seem like more than a casual invitation too. “But I wasn't sure what time. I said you'd call her about that.”

  Mariana answered right away when I called her about the time. “Yes, Rebecca, Angus did say you'd call. Five thirty on Sunday? Perfect. Now what can I bring?”

  “You don't have to bring anything,” I assured her.

  “Nonsense. Hosting a holiday dinner is hard work. At least let me bring a salad.”

  I agreed that would be very nice and went on to my next call.

  “No, I don't have plans,” Gwen answered when I called. “Thanksgiving's such a family event, isn't it, and I don't have any family close by. What a lovely idea to invite people from the co-op. That's very thoughtful, Rebecca. I'd like to bring something to help out. How about dessert?”

  "Well, I thought I'd try that pumpkin cheese
cake recipe that was in the paper this week.”

  “Ooooh, that sounds scrumptious,” Gwen said. “But you know, not everyone likes pumpkin. I've got a chocolate pecan pie recipe that's very popular, particularly with boys. I think your Ben would like that, don't you. That way people could have a choice.”

  I almost laughed out loud. My mother was always making two or three desserts for her dinner party, just in case someone wanted something else. “You really can't have too many desserts,” she would say.

  “You're right,” I agreed. “I think Ben would much prefer chocolate pecan pie. And maybe my dad would too. That's very kind of you, Gwen.

  “By the way, I've started to sort through the box you gave me. I wondered if I could come down and pick up the other one.”

  “Oh, Rebecca, it's so good of you to be working on this. But I'm just heading out the door. I'm going out to a movie with a friend, and she's going to be picking me up any minute. I don't want to be late. Why don't I bring the other box up to you on Sunday?”

  I was dying to go through the other box. But I couldn't really pressure her. “Sure that'd be fine. And I guess I'll have to talk to Ruth about going through the other boxes.”

  “She's off for the weekend,” Gwen said. “And she should probably take a few extra days too. She's got holidays due her and heaven knows she probably needs a break, poor thing. I think she's helping her mother clear out Les's apartment. That must be hard. But she said she had things to do, so I think she'll be back on Tuesday. I'm sure she can help you when she gets back.”

  I was really being frustrated in my research about the co-op. But I knew I'd probably be too busy getting dinner ready to do much until after Sunday. And I still had people to invite.

  Anna was next on the list.