The Icing on the Corpse

by Mary Jane Maffini

  It was after eight on a weeknight, but clouds of kids darted around. The combination of the warm temperature and the number of people made the ice slooshy, but who cared? All you had to do was watch out for the gouges and cracks in the ice surface, relax and have a good time.

  I'd forgotten how it felt. It doesn't matter how broke you are, you can always get your mitts on a pair of second-hand skates. Paul and I had spent many hours on the canal, holding hands, laughing. The year we lived in Old Ottawa South, we'd skated to work every morning the canal was open and home again late in the evening, full of cases and news from our respective law firms. I wondered where Paul's skates were, then I stopped that thought. Fast.

  It was the kind of night that Winterlude is all about. Throngs of skaters laughed and spun. Ahead of me a young couple each guided a toddler, the whole family sporting handknit red scarves.

  If Paul had lived, would we have had a child? Would we have worn matching red scarves? Enough of that. I had real trouble without making myself miserable with might-have-beens. I let myself get caught up in the good mood. What the hell.

  I figured a trip down to the Pretoria Bridge and back would be far enough. I threaded my way in and out of skaters moving in random patterns, passing the University of Ottawa buildings on my left, the Golden Triangle on my right. My ankles ached from the unfamiliar skates. But that was good. It would take my mind off my Elaine problem and would be enough to clear my head and let the unconscious part of my brain deal with all my tricky issues.

  I was having fun. I found out I could still twirl. Looking back down the canal, I could see the top of the Peace Tower just visible behind the Laurier Street Bridge.

  What the heck, since I was out having fun, I decided to eat. I knew what I wanted. I careened up to the green wooden cabin with the gold letters. Luckily, I remembered how to use my blades to stop. I waited in line and bought a BeaverTail, cinnamon and sugar. I nibbled as I skated along and turned to head back at the Pretoria Bridge.

  I tried to concentrate on who might have killed Benning and tried not to get sidetracked by Elaine and her bizarre choice. In the end things always worked out for Elaine. She pulled crazy stunts and got away with them. Everyone remembered her hunger strike over subsidies for better low-income housing, the sit-ins in front of Foreign Affairs, and, of course, the legendary visit to the House of Commons. If there were Stubborn Olympics, Elaine would have medals.

  I peered over and up at the town houses on Echo Drive and thought of Lindsay. Then it hit me. Elaine had sandbagged me. I hadn't used my brain for proper analysis. I'd probably missed leads pointing toward the real murderer.

  Ralph Benning had been a thug and a villain, a wife beater and a drug dealer and who knew what else. It stood to reason he would have ticked off scarier folks than the Executive Director of WAVE.

  Even though I couldn't believe Lindsay might have killed Benning, missing sweaters or not, and most likely her family and friends hadn't either, it still made sense she'd have an idea who would. After all, before she'd been his victim, she'd been his lover. She'd spent her time with him. It didn't cross my mind Benning would have been open with her or anybody, but even so, she would have met his cronies, and business acquaintances. More important, she might know whom he dealt with on the police force.

  Pillow talk.

  She hadn't told me. But then, I hadn't asked her the right questions. Maybe she had a good reason. Did Lindsay know someone worse than Benning?

  I had a purpose for skating besides letting off steam. I was right across the canal from Lindsay's place. There was a convenient set of steps leading up to Colonel By. It was clogged with slow-moving families lifting children right at that moment.

  I waited by the side of the canal and tapped the blades of my skates irritably against the ice. At least I had the BeaverTail to keep me busy. I licked a bit of the sugar from my gloves. I had to start to remember to eat more often.

  I sniffed the air. I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. What was it? Hard to tell. The cinnamon overwhelmed it.

  I was halfway through my BeaverTail when I felt a powerful blow to the back of my legs. Had a kid skidded out of control? Before I could check, I was hit again.

  My knees crumbled, and I shot forward. The BeaverTail dropped as I put my hands out to break my fall. I tumbled towards the bank of snow at the side of the canal. My yell was swallowed up by the music. The banked snow rose up to meet my face. Someone grabbed my shoulders as I plunged forward. Thank God. But the hands pushed instead of pulling. A blow to my back propelled me head first into the crusty snow. The hard surface scraped my face as I slammed through it.

  I tried to yell but my mouth filled with snow. Somebody's knees dug in my back and strong hands pushed my face further into the soft icy interior of the bank. My arms and hands pressed ahead, trapped by the snow, useless.

  I struggled and found more snow in my mouth. I saw exploding pinpricks of light. The person forcing me down was no child. An adult's weight on my back shoved me into a cold, white death.

  I struggled to catch my breath. The pain in my chest took over my mind. I could feel my body spasm. My hands jerked against the snow and found only resistance.

  Is this how it ends?

  Nothing but black.

  Who was slapping me? Don't do that. I tried to beat them back. To my surprise, I could move my hands. “Stop it.”

  “She's coming around.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “What happened?”

  I opened my eyes to a ring of round-eyed watchers. Court jesters? No, people in tuques, bending over me.

  “Can you move your leg?”

  I couldn't think. What was going on? A small face inserted itself close to me. A freckled boy grinned, showing two missing front teeth.

  “I found you,” he said. “I told them and they pulled you out. It was me.”

  The snowbank, the pressure, the knees in my back. Everything flooded back.

  “Don't move. You might have broken bones.”

  “Here, have a bit of coffee.”

  “Try to sit up.”

  “Is she a homeless person?”

  “Don't try to sit up.”

  “Maybe lie down.”

  “Do you think she's been drinking?”

  “No, I don't think she should lie down.”

  “I found her. I bet I'll get a big reward.”

  The ring of people must have been five deep by this time. I was obviously entertaining.

  A woman in iridescent blue leaned in and held out a cup. “Hot chocolate. Cures every ill.”

  “Don't move.”

  “Be careful, you don't want to do yourself a permanent injury. Stay quiet until the skate patrol gets here.”

  “There's what I need.” My teeth chattered as I reached out and grabbed the cup of hot chocolate.

  “Or maybe I'll get a medal,” the little boy said.

  New faces joined the crowd and people pushed forward to get a gander at the action.

  “What happened?” a woman asked.

  “I might even be on TV,” the little boy said.

  I wanted the whole damn crowd to disappear.

  “Fine, I'm okay,” Not true, but that was my business, not theirs.

  Since they continued to stand around feigning concern, I asked if anyone had seen the person who'd pushed me into the snow bank. That was enough to make the crowd melt away.

  A nice young man from the Rideau Canal Skate Patrol asked me a lot of questions. I guess I answered them all right. It looked like an ambulance wouldn't be necessary, which was good, because I had no intention of going in one. On the down side, my cellphone was out of juice. But the nice young man called a cab for me. For once, I didn't have to wait long. The cab driver didn't have much to say. That was good. I didn't feel like talking to him. I kept my eyes closed in case he changed his mind and decided to chat. But my mind kept racing. Who had pushed me into the snowbank? Was it a coincidence it happened right in front of
Lindsay's place? And right after I'd irritated everyone in the Ottawa police force? Which reminded me. Who had tugged on the police chain of command?

  Vanessa Gross-Davies and the board of directors of WAVE? Her know-it-all husband Jack? Elaine herself, not wanting me to impede her conviction? Or someone I hadn't even thought of? What the hell were the connections?

  Mrs. Parnell was not in her usual sentry spot in the corridor. For once I could have done with a sherry, but she didn't answer her door even after eight or nine vigorous thumps. Never mind, Mrs. P. s cat and my sofa were all I needed.

  I admit there are issues involved in pretending to be someone's lawyer when you are their ex-lawyer or perhaps even their never-was lawyer. These issues can come back to haunt you if you're not careful. I hadn't been careful.

  I don't know why I picked up the phone at eleven o'clock that evening. Maybe because it jerked me awake. Maybe because I ached too much to think. Maybe because I didn't recognize the phone number. But since it wasn't a member of my family, it seemed safe enough.

  Alvin was breathing hard. “You'd better turn on your radio.”

  “What for?”

  “Never mind. Make sure you catch the next local news.”

  “Does it have to do with bridesmaid's dresses?”

  “No.”

  “Winterlude and goddam skating?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I'll listen then.”

  Maybe I should have done that. Instead I rolled over on the sofa and snored open-mouthed to a rerun of Due South.

  “Camilla!”

  Damn. I knew I shouldn't have answered. But Edwina's call came in the middle of a dream and I reached out for Paul Gross and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “How could you?”

  “How could I what?”

  “I think you know.”

  “I don't know.”

  “It's hardly fair.”

  “I'm sure it isn't.”

  “What a disgrace. How will Daddy hold his head up in St. Jim's Parish if you get disbarred?”

  “What?”

  “Can't you say anything more intelligent than what? When I think about all your education, well, it makes me wonder. I can imagine how embarrassed Alexa and Conn will be with you in the spotlight right before the wedding.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, Camilla, for God's sake.” She slammed down the receiver. It saved me from saying “what” again.

  Which was good.

  I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my scratched face, fed Mrs. P.'s pet and turned on CBC radio in time to get the local highlights.

  “In the latest bizarre twist in the Ralph Benning murder case, suspect Elaine Ekstein told reporters she has dismissed her defence lawyer. Ekstein alleges she never engaged the services of Camilla MacPhee, controversial Ottawa legal activist. According to Ekstein, MacPhee, Executive Director of the advocacy group, Justice for Victims, has misrepresented the relationship between them. Ekstein, who is refusing to submit to psychiatric testing, has been denied bail and has yet to undergo a preliminary hearing in the macabre death of Ralph Benning earlier this week, is now represented by Sam Berelson. Assistant Crown Attorney Mia Reilly confirmed that her office plans to lodge a formal complaint against MacPhee with the Law Society of Upper Canada tomorrow.”

  “What?” I said.

  Nineteen

  Even though it was Saturday, Alvin and I both found ourselves at our desks in the office by mid-morning. I was doing my best to be in a good mood despite the cost of the rental car I'd picked up. Alvin was doing his best to be Alvin, with the help of Jimmy Buffett and some Pina Colada mix.

  “Of course, I haven't forgotten,” I told P. J. when he called. “I've already been practicing.”

  “Excellent. The little guys are bouncing they're so excited.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “And they don't even realize how newsworthy you are.”

  “So this outing won't compromise your journalistic integrity?”

  “Nope. I'm excited. I figure it should be worth a couple of first-rate quotes.”

  I planned to give him a couple of quotes all right.

  Alvin managed to mind his own business at his own desk throughout that conversation. To do him credit, he hadn't mentioned my swollen nose and scraped face that morning either.

  “Well,” I said, after I hung up, “what did you find out?”

  Of course, with Alvin, you have to cool your jets while he gets to the point. That's the price you pay for service. He twirled the little umbrella in his drink. “Well, it's not that easy.”

  “No, I suppose it isn't.” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, which wasn't that easy either. Since the incident in the snowbank, every part of my body that didn't ache or sting, throbbed.

  “A lot of this information is not in the public domain.”

  “Right.”

  “I think you'll be pleased.”

  “Excellent. As long as I'm pleased in this lifetime.”

  Mistake. I bit my tongue. After nearly a year, I should know certain types of remarks merely slow him down.

  “You could have done it yourself. Would have been a lot quicker.”

  “Okay, Alvin, I'll say ‘uncle’ at this point. We both know it wouldn't have been faster if I'd done it. Mainly because I tend not to remove materials from libraries without authorization and…what?”

  Someone screamed. Alvin screamed too. I whirled around, expecting a lunatic with a raised axe.

  “Sorry.” Alvin pointed at Alexa. “She startled me.”

  “She startled you?. The two of you nearly gave me a stroke. Alexa, do you think it's a good idea to show up here and start screaming?”

  “My God, your face.”

  Alexa was framed in the door, clutching her heart and breathing fast. Behind her loomed Conn McCracken.

  “Yes, well. You should see the other guy.”

  She pursed her lips. “I wasn't expecting…what happened?”

  I pointed to McCracken. “Why don't you ask him?”

  “What do you mean, ask me?”

  “What does she mean, Conn?”

  “I don't know what she means.”

  Oh, good. McCracken got to experience one of those dangerous looks.

  Alvin said, “She means he knows what happened.”

  “What do you know about Camilla's facial injuries, Connor?”

  Ooh. Con-nor. That sounded ominous.

  “I don't know anything about them.”

  “If you say so,” Alvin said.

  “I do say so.” McCracken seemed even closer to a stroke than I had been. All in all, a bad health day for both of us.

  I was feeling big-hearted. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  McCracken's face deepened from red to purple, not a good sign.

  “Why would you need the benefit of the doubt, Connor?”

  “I don't. I didn't ask for the benefit of the doubt. Christ, I have no idea how Camilla got her face messed up.”

  Alexa stiffened.

  “I'm sorry,” McCracken said.

  “Fine.”

  “Sorry, lamb chop. I didn't mean to swear. And I wasn't swearing at you anyway. They took me by surprise. And…

  “No problem,” Alexa said.

  As far as I could tell, there was a problem all right. And it was McCracken's. Alexa had her back to him now. And a nice straight back it was too. “Camilla, what happened to you?”

  “Someone attacked me on the canal last night.”

  She gasped. You have to hand it to my sisters, they gasp beautifully, which adds drama to any situation.

  “Who did?”

  “I don't know.”

  “What happened?”

  “Someone tripped me and knocked me into a snowbank. Then they made sure my head was buried nice and deep untill lost consciousness.”

  “What did the police say? Conn didn't even mention it.” She didn't look at him.
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  “I didn't know. First I heard about it. Do you think I wouldn't tell you, lamb chop?”

  “I didn't report it.” What the hell, why not bail the guy out.

  “What? Why not?” My turn to get the look from Alexa.

  “Because I'm persona non grata there, and I've been told to stay away from them. They wouldn't believe me.”

  “Persona not grata? Why? That doesn't make sense. They're the police and you're a citizen, even if you are remarkably difficult. They have to be available to you. Don't they?”

  “You'll have to ask them, Alexa.”

  “I can't believe Connor wouldn't have mentioned you were persona non grata. Perhaps he didn't know.”

  I heard him say something naughty under his breath.

  “It's not possible, is it, Connor?” I think she could tell by his expression it was possible all right. And Conn McCracken was about to find out first hand about persona non grata.

  “Oh.” Lindsay turned white as soon as she opened the door. But I was getting used to the effect I had on people.

  “It's not what you think.” I stepped past her into the marble foyer. Lucky for me, there was no sign of Merv.

  She looked worse than I did. But her bruises were of the mind. Her eyes seemed sunken and dull, her skin more like putty than silk. For once, she wasn't wearing perfume.

  “What's wrong?” One look told me I'd put my foot in it.

  “His memorial service will be tomorrow.”

  His memorial service. That knocked the breath out of me. There was bound to be a public ceremony for Rina Benning and I would plan to attend that. But who in their right mind would go to a memorial service for a monster like Ralph Benning? His own mother would probably boycott it. If he ever had a mother. Which reminded me, where was Mrs. P. with the information about the people in Benning's life?

  I waited for an invitation to come into the living room. It didn't come. I took my boots off anyway.

  “What happened to you?” Lindsay asked.