CHAPTER
Thirty-Four
Dad had changed into a nice sweater and gray slacks when I got back. He was in the kitchen, looking into the fridge where I'd left the remaining bottle of wine.
“Okay if I take this wine to Mariana's?” he called out. “I should take something, but flowers don't seem quite right.”
He turned when I came in and gave me a questioning look. Then he noticed how white my face was.
“I found this in the mailbox,” I said, showing him the note.
“So it wasn't an accident that Maui got out?”
“I guess not. But it's hard to imagine someone could get in and take him, with you and Ben both here.”
“Well, I sleep pretty soundly and so does Ben, I guess,” Dad said. “You're the one who wakes up at the slightest noise.”
“It's the mother in me,” I replied. “And the mother in me thinks we should get out of this place. I know you and Ben didn't want to move, but I think we should start looking for somewhere else to live.”
Dad nodded. “That threat is pretty serious. You should tell that D'Onofrio guy. And we'll start looking for a new place tomorrow.”
“I'll call D'Onofrio right now,” I said. “And I'll ask Dave if Ben can stay with him for a while. That would be safer. I can't risk anything happening to him.”
“Do you want me to stay home with you tonight?” Dad asked. “I don't really feel comfortable leaving you alone.”
I almost agreed to his offer. I didn't want to be alone. But I had heard him laughing with Mariana this morning, sounding happier than he had in a long time. He needed to get out more.
“No, I'll be fine,” I told him. “You go and have dinner with Mariana. You'll be right next door if I need you.”
I finally convinced him to go next door. I was glad he was spending time with Mariana. Maybe he would keep on seeing her, even if we moved.
I thought about that. Dad and Ben were happy here. Dad was finding the accessible building easy to get around and he liked the neighborhood. Ben was making new friends. And he'd already had so much disruption in his young life. My separation from Dave, Mom's death, the moves, first into the condo with Dad and then the co-op. I wanted him to have a stable life and a home where he would feel secure. But obviously this co-op wasn't going to be the place.
I knew how hard it was going to be to find someplace else. There were other co-ops in Vancouver, but I knew most of them had long waiting lists. And finding something else I could afford and was wheelchair accessible would be even harder.
I could feel tears filling my eyes. But I blinked them back. I didn't want Ben seeing me cry. And there were things I could do to keep my family safe. I needed to call the police, and make arrangements with Dave to have Ben stay with him. And, if someone had gotten into our apartment to let our kitten out, I should probably have the locks changed.
I was moving toward the phone to call D'Onofrio when I heard Ben calling me from his room.
“Mommy, Maui's awake now but he's crying. I think his leg really hurts.”
I glanced at my watch. Maui was due for his pain medication. And he was probably hungry too.
I could hear Maui screeching in increasingly loud and indignant meows as I walked down the hall to Ben's room. Ben was distressed too, and starting to cry because his kitten was hurt. I remembered I'd promised Naomi I'd try to keep them both quieter.
The situation in Maui's kennel was even worse than I thought. The kitten had woken up at some point and tried to use his litter box. He was a good kitten and well trained. But he'd obviously had difficulty climbing into the litter box with his broken leg and then balancing on his three good legs. He'd missed the edge of the box, and the towel I'd used for his bed was wet with urine. Then he'd managed to kick the litter around the kennel, with some landing on the towel and some even in his food dish.
The kitten was obviously ready for his medication and his food, but I thought I should clean out the kennel first.
I lifted the meowing kitten out of the kennel, trying to support his broken leg. The kitten still yelped in pain.
“Ben, go get some of his crunchies,” I told him. When Ben returned moments later with a handful of dry kitten food, I asked him to sit on the bed and placed Maui gently on his lap. “Let him smell his food,” I told him. Maui was attracted by the smell of his food and interested in the novelty of being hand fed. I could hear him crunching the food and Ben giggling as the kitten nudged his hand for more.
“He likes this,” Ben said. “I should feed him like this all the time. But his whiskers tickle me.”
I managed to clean out the kennel and fold another clean towel for Maui's bed. I washed the plastic dishes we used for his food and filled them with new water and dry food. I added a spoonful of the canned food Maui loved. I passed a few more of the dry pellets to Ben to feed to his kitten.
Now it was time to give the kitten his medicine. The vet had made it look easy, but I wasn't so sure. I managed to fill the dropper with the liquid and lifted Maui onto my lap. I tipped his head back, pressed his mouth open the way the vet had showed me and squeezed the dropper.
And Maui jerked back. And howled. The yellow liquid sprayed out of his mouth, covering his fur and Ben's bed.
I tried again, this time managing to clamp his mouth together the way the vet had shown me. But Maui still wasn't swallowing, and the yellow liquid was bubbling out of the corners of his mouth. I remembered the vet had stroked his throat after she had placed the medicine in his mouth. I tried that.
That seemed to work. I think he swallowed. I wasn't sure if he had taken enough of the medicine.
I looked down at the struggling kitten in my lap. His fur was covered with the yellow medicine. I hoped he would lick it off and get the necessary dose. I didn't want to try the procedure again, and I also didn't want to give him too much.
I placed the kitten back in his kennel and was thankful when Maui settled down and started to eat his food.
I looked around the room. Sprays of yellow medicine covered Ben's bed and a few drops had landed on the wall. My own shirt and pants were splattered.
Ben was laughing. “That's Maui's medicine, Mommy, not yours.”
“Well, I hope he gets better at taking it,” I said. “Imagine if Grandpa did that every time he had to take his medicine. Just think what a mess our house would be.”
Ben considered this. My father took a lot of medication for his arthritis, both for pain and to reduce inflammation in his joints. “But Grandpa takes pills,” he said. “Maybe Maui should take pills.” I wondered about that. A pill would have made less of a mess but it would have been harder for Maui to swallow. I'd just have to get better at giving the medicine. He was only supposed to take it for a few days anyway.
I cleaned up Ben's room and changed my own clothes. Then it was time for Ben's dinner and bath. As I tucked him into bed, I hugged him close, remembering the threatening note.
I needed to call D'Onofrio and Dave as soon as Ben was asleep. I was relieved to see that Maui had licked some of the medicine from his fur, although a few sticky yellow patches still stained it in places. I thought about trying to clean it off, then decided to let it go. I'd deal with it tomorrow, if Maui hadn't cleaned himself by then.
Right now I needed to let the police and Dave know about the threatening note.
I grabbed the card D'Onofrio had given me and called him first. I got his voicemail.
I explained about Maui's disappearance and the note I had received. “I don't really know if it's related to Les and Ruth's deaths, but it seems likely. Anyway, now they're threatening my son, so I'm taking this seriously. I can bring the note to you if you need to look at it. Um, for fingerprints or something.”
I left my number and hung up. I wondered what D'Onofrio was doing right now. He could be on duty, investigating another crime. Or he could be off duty. I didn't know anything about him, but I wondered how he spent his time off. Was he married? He didn't wear a
wedding ring but some married men didn't. Or he could be single and out on a date. With his handsome face and great wardrobe, it was easier to picture him in a candlelit restaurant with a beautiful woman than home alone with TV, pizza, and beer. But, for some reason, I liked the pizza image better.
I called Dave and was pleased to reach him. Maybe he was doing the pizza and TV alone thing.
“Um, Dave, do you think you could have Ben stay with you for a while. It's getting kind of weird around here.” I explained about the note.
“Oh, sure, Bec. That's kind of freaky. But you know I'm going to be away for a week or so, covering the Canucks away games. For sure when I get back. But, then I don't know . . . I have to go out to cover games or to the newsroom. I'm not sure that would work. I mean, that's why you decided to stay home when Ben was born. Maybe you should think about moving.”
“Yes, I'm planning to, but finding something is going to take time. I just thought you'd want to make sure Ben is safe until we do.”
“Yeah, sure, but you know maybe it's just a joke. Maybe the cat just got out by accident and someone thought it'd be a chance to freak you out. Cara told me you've really pissed some people off in that place. You really should try to get along better with your neighbors, Bec. I never have any trouble with mine.”
I resisted the urge to hang up on him. Dave reassured me he'd call me as soon as he got back from his road trip. He sounded excited. Maybe it was the hockey and the chance to be out of town for a while. Or maybe Cara was going with him. I realized I didn't care.
But I thought about what he'd said, about people I'd annoyed in the co-op. Could it have been a prank, a mean practical joke to get back at me? Who would have keys to my apartment? Well, someone had managed to get into the office to kill Les and Ruth. It wouldn't have been too hard to get a set of keys. I remembered the filing cabinet had been open the night Les died. Could someone have taken a set of keys?
I thought about the people in the co-op who had reason to resent me. Aaron had certainly been angry and yelled at me. But would he try to hurt us by harming a helpless kitten? I hated the idea of a large, angry man moving through the apartment while my young son and disabled father were sleeping. Aaron had seemed genuinely upset by what had happened to Maui. Was he feeling guilty at a mean prank gone wrong?
Naomi seemed to have gotten over her resentment. But I didn't really know her. Could she have been faking her sympathy?
I picked up my phone to call a locksmith. I wanted to get the locks changed right away. Then I hesitated. It was getting late, and I'd probably have to pay extra to get someone to come out at this time. I really couldn't afford that. Not with the vet bill to pay and the costs of moving again. I decided it could wait until tomorrow.
I jumped when I heard sounds near our front door and a key turning in the look.
I was relieved to find that it was just my father coming home. I looked at my watch. It seemed like this evening had gone on forever, but he'd only been gone a short time.
“Hi, Dad. How was your dinner with Mariana?” I asked as he came in.
“Oh, fine,” he replied but he didn't sound very enthusiastic.
“Dad, is something wrong?” I pressed him. “I know you were feeling a bit uncomfortable about spending time with someone other than Mom, but it's really all right.”
Like many men his age, my father wasn't great about talking about his emotions. But he was clearly troubled.
“No, it's not that,” he answered. “Well, it's still not easy, but that's not what's bothering me.”
He shrugged. “Dinner was okay. Well, she'd cooked roast beef and I'd brought white wine, but that was okay. And we were getting along all right.”
He took a deep breath. “You know she had these bookshelves in her living room. And I had read some of the books, so I started talking about them. You know, just making conversation. Your mother and I used to talk about books we were reading. I guess I miss that.
“But she didn't really seem to know what I was talking about. Becky, I'd swear she hadn't read a single one of those books.”
I laughed. “Oh, Dad, you know not everyone likes to read as much as we do. I've heard of people who buy books just for decoration, although it's hard to imagine that. Or maybe she just hadn't got around to reading those particular books. Or forgotten them. That happens often enough to me, and I'm sure it will get worse.”
Dad gave me a knowing look. “Oh, it will get worse, believe me. I know I've carted home a book from the library and realized I've already read it. But this was strange. She looked almost guilty. And then she changed the subject. Talking about some television program I hadn't seen. So it wasn't the most successful evening. But that wasn't the strangest thing,” he went on. “Becky, you've been to her apartment, right? Didn't you notice her living room is exactly the same as ours?”
“Well, yes, it's a mirror image of ours. All of the units in the building are similar.”
“No,” he said. “That's not what I mean. I mean she's decorated her living room to look like ours. Same bookshelves, same green loveseat. It looks exactly the same. It was creepy.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-Five
I looked at him. “It wasn't like that when I was over there,” I said. “She must have just redecorated. I know she was complimentary about our furniture when she was here. Maybe she was planning on making some changes, liked how our room looked and decided to do something similar. After all, people don't invent completely new looks. People are always copying ideas they see in decorating magazines. It's sort of the same thing.”
Dad looked doubtful. I remembered that Mariana seemed to copy Gwen's style of clothes, and how she'd switched to a black suit for Ruth's funeral, after Gwen and I had both worn suits to Les's funeral. “Maybe she's just not sure about her own sense of style and copies things she admires. It's the same with fashions in clothing too. People do that all the time . . . wear something similar to what they've seen in a magazine, or on the street. Some people set trends but most of us just follow what we see other people wearing.”
“You're probably right,” Dad said. “It still seemed creepy. Maybe I'm just not ready to be spending time with other women. I'm still in mourning.”
I gave him a hug. “We all are. But I'm sure it'll get better.”
After Dad went to bed, I thought a bit about his evening with Mariana. He probably wasn't ready to start dating again and was looking for an excuse to avoid a new relationship.
I liked Mariana. She'd been great to us since we moved into the co-op. But I thought about her son and his criminal convictions, and Amy's actions in running away, and was a little relieved we might not be brought closer to those two through a close relationship with Mariana.
Then I felt mean. She had been so welcoming to all of us.
I was ready for bed. Then I wished I had spent the money to get new locks put on right away. I would call a locksmith first thing tomorrow. But I didn't think I could sleep without doing something right now.
I'd seen people in movies try to protect themselves by jamming a chair under a doorknob so people couldn't get into a room. I had no idea if that worked but it seemed better than nothing. I grabbed one of the dining room chairs and dragged it toward the front door.
I pushed the chair under the doorknob. Then I laughed. The door opened outwards. If anyone tried to get in, the chair would simply fall over.
Still, it would make a noise and that would alert me. I went to bed.
I WAS WAKENED the next morning by the sound of Ben's laughter. I got up to find him sitting on the chair I'd left by the front door.
“Hey, Mommy,” he said when he saw me. “Someone left a chair by the door. Can I have my breakfast here?”
I was so often surprised by some of the ideas Ben came up with. “Not unless you want to move the table there, and I don't think you want to do that.”
He considered it. “It folds up really small. If we made it small, you and I could carry it.�
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“And what if someone wants to come in or we want to leave? I think that's why we don't have a table in front of the door already.”
“But people already can't come in if we have a chair in front of the door. So we could have a table.”
The point of the chair was to keep people out but I didn't want to tell Ben that. I was pleased when he agreed to return the chair to its rightful place at the table without further argument.
Maui seemed to have passed a peaceful night, and I was relieved to see I didn't need to clean his kennel too much. Even the medicine process went more smoothly this morning.
I looked up locksmiths and was about to start calling for quotes when I wondered if the co-op had someone they used.
I was starting to call Gwen, when I remembered the receipt for the clothing store that I'd found in Ben's bedroom. At the time I thought she must have dropped it when she was here for Thanksgiving. But, if that was the case, shouldn't I have noticed it before then. I wasn't a perfect housekeeper, but I did usually pick up things on my floor. Could Gwen have been the person who let Maui outside?
As president, she might have access to keys to the building. But I couldn't think why Gwen would want to warn me to stop looking into things in the co-op. I was the one who had offered to work on the history of the co-op, and she had happily agreed. Surely she wouldn't have done that if she thought there were secrets she didn't want found out.
Still, I thought I'd feel more comfortable talking to Jeremy about getting a locksmith.
“A list of tradespeople the co-op uses?” he said when I called him. “Sure, we probably have something like that, but the staff would have been the ones to call them.”
I told him about Maui getting out of the apartment but not about the threatening note. Jeremy had seemed frank when he told me about growing up in the co-op, but he hadn't mentioned it until after I had found out through the files. If the person who took Maui had keys to my apartment, it could have been anyone. The people who knew I was working on the co-op history might have told anyone in the co-op. But I suspected it might be one of the people who had come to dinner at Thanksgiving. I didn't know who I could trust.
Murder Is Uncooperative Page 19