Then I sashayed into the bar to meet Richard, right on time. “Smile for the birdie,” I said, getting a nice image of him telling the waiter to give me special treatment.
* * *
I arrived at Alexa’s place that evening with a grin on my face and what was left of my Catholic conscience locked in the basement of my mind.
Alexa opened the door the second Richard’s car drove into the driveway, eliminating any mushy stuff. Just as well. After all, it had just been a civilized drink followed by dinner.
As I walked through the door, I sniffed L’air du Temps. I turned to wave good-bye to Richard.
Alexa was wearing very subtle yet effective make-up, creating a dewy, youthful appearance. An appearance bolstered by her soft, cream cowl-necked angora sweater and black pants with little patent flats. A very nice effect, but wasted on me at eleven in the evening.
“Is that him?” she whispered, watching the car pull out of the driveway.
“It’s a different him.”
“Oh. So who is he?”
“A friend.”
“How nice,” she said, sinking into a chair in the living room.
I could tell she wanted to talk, but I had to make a stop in the laundry room. I was feeling guilty about the cats. Maybe I could buy my way back into their favour with the cat treats.
“It’s very hard to keep them in the laundry room,” Alexa pointed out as she came up behind me. “They seem to want to get out and sit on the furniture.”
“I think I can understand that.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “they’re staying in.”
Ten eyes glowed with reproach when I opened the door. It would take a hell of a lot of cat treats to get back in their good graces.
I closed the door and faced Alexa, who was slumping against the wall.
“I’m sorry. I still think you should just give him a call. Save yourself all this stressful self-torment. I’ve got to go to bed now. Big day tomorrow.”
When I snapped her picture from the top of the stairs, she was sitting in the living room with the lights off. Mooning over McCracken.
Go figure.
Thirteen
C’mon, Alvin, you can do it.” He looked across the desk at me, arms crossed, mouth a tight little knot, ponytail in full droop.
“Oh sure,” he said, “get me to do all the real scruffy stuff that you don’t have the taste for. Other Duties As Required. Give it to Alvin. The underclass.”
“That’s not true. I very much want to go to the Harmony and prowl around the delivery entrances and the back hallways. But I can’t. The manager there knows me, and he told me he’d call the police in a flash if he caught me snooping.”
Alvin had no way of knowing what Richard had said over dinner the previous night. But I remembered it well.
Be careful had been the underlying theme.
“I just want the name of the 8th Floor maid, Richard.”
“Okay, here it is. But…”
“Thanks,” I said, leaning over and looking at the card with the name Maria Rodriguez written on it. I had to touch his hand to pick up the card.
He was still talking.
“…this is a dangerous situation. Someone knows where you live, knows you have been investigating and wants you to stop. Dead cat, remember?”
“I remember. How would I forget?” It was hard to concentrate with his hand touching mine like that. Hard to keep my mind on our civilized little drink and dinner. And his civilized little warning.
“When does she come on duty?”
“She stopped working here, right after the murder. A lot of these refugees went through some pretty gruesome times in their own country. They want to feel safe in Canada.”
“Where does she live?”
“The address is there, for all the good it will do you. This woman only had a couple of words of English. But, listen, why not give it to the police and suggest that they interview her? They’ll find a translator from the community. One of these rocks you turn over in your investigation is going to have something pretty ugly under it.”
“You’re right,” I’d said, smiling into those chocolate eyes and picking up the card with my free hand. “Why buy trouble?”
So Alvin, not I, would be nosing through the back halls of the Harmony with an armful of photos, trying to pin down just who might have been sneaking in the back way to see Mitzi Brochu before her death. For his own protection, I sent him over to the Rideau Centre to get the roll of film with Richard’s picture developed.
“Alvin,” I said, by way of convincing him of the wisdom of the Harmony mission, “the way I see it, we’re partners, each with our own role to play in solving this gruesome crime. You’ve brought me a lot of useful information.”
“Yeah well, I…“ But I’d had enough of Alvin’s stalling at this point. “Time to hit the road. A rolling stone gathers no moss and all that. We need those photos ASAP. Now get going, partner.”
“But Camilla…“ “Look, my day started with my sister sulking at me over the corn flakes. Then things got a bit more exciting when I transported five, count ‘em five, cats in boxes back to my apartment in the world’s most anti-cat building. Now, here I am, it’s nearly noon. I have to be on the alert for the beautiful suspect and now, instead of being a cooperative partner, you’re getting your back up.”
“Fine,” he snapped, “wait for it then, partner.”
He was out the door before I could clarify just what it was I would be waiting for.
I put in another call to Merv, who also has a tendency to sulk for unexplained reasons.
“Try the city police. I can’t dig up a lot of information without people starting to notice.”
“It’s a situation I understand well, Merv, but I don’t want you to dig up information on a lot of people, just one. Just one person, and I have his picture. And I would rather avoid talking to the city police since they don’t seem to take me seriously.”
There was silence on the line. I shook the phone. “After all, it’s for Robin, in case you’re forgetting, Merv.”
“Yeah, all right. One picture. Drop it by. At the desk. Don’t come in. You’ll just give people ideas.”
“Thank you, Merv.” I stopped short of slathering him with all that partner bullshit.
My last call was to set up a meeting with my old friend, Elaine Ekstein. Elaine was hard at work setting up a support network for refugee women. She was glad to talk to me.
“Sure,” she said, “I’ll find her for you. She’s probably scared to death. Especially if she’s a new arrival and she doesn’t speak much English. I’ll translate for you.”
I just had time to hop into the car and hightail it back to Elmvale Acres. My little visit with Robin confirmed what I’d hoped. Brooke was still home, but preparing to go out. Her mother was parked in front of the television watching Days of Our Lives and steaming Brooke’s going-out outfit. She didn’t even glance over when I snapped a picture of her.
“Be careful,” Brooke called down, “it’s new and it’s linen. I don’t want anything to happen to it, Ma.”
“My God,” said Ma, “can you believe Marlena would let him do that?”
Mr. Findlay followed me up the stairs with fresh sandwiches, chicken on brown bread, cut in little triangles and some lemon custard for dessert. Hot tea, too. That man knew how to put a tray together.
“Say cheese,” I said, capturing the moment on film.
He grinned. “Just like old times, you and that camera.”
From the sounds of preparations and shouted instructions, Brooke was quite a way from take-off. I could enjoy my lunch and try to get Robin to enjoy hers as well.
“Don’t even think about taking my picture,” Robin said.
I knew she meant it.
“How are the pussies?” she asked as we settled in with our little sandwiches and tea.
“Great! They miss you! But they seem to be enjoying life.”
Robin put down
her tea cup and stared at me.
My God, I thought, could she tell what had happened to the tabby just by looking at me? Did the words DEAD CAT appear on my forehead?
“They communicate with you?”
“No, but they…purr. And then every now and then they get a faraway look in their little green eyes, and I know they’re thinking about you and about how they want you to get well and go home and be with them again.” I folded my hands in my lap.
Until I noticed that tears were streaming down Robin’s cheeks. She also appeared to have stopped breathing.
“My God, I’m sorry, I’m only trying to…”
“Hahahahahah.” At least she was alive.
“Stop laughing, or I’ll eat all the sandwiches. Then you’ll be sorry.”
“You can tell all that from their eyes? You should go on Oprah.”
The door shot open and Brooke bellowed through: “Keep it down, will you, I’m trying to catch something on the radio.”
Robin’s laugh was cut off mid-whoop.
“Don’t mind her. She can’t help it. She’s under a lot of career pressure lately.”
Nothing like she’s going to be, I thought as I ate my sandwiches.
When I left the Findlay house, still ahead of Brooke, I pulled away from the curb, rounded the corner and pulled in again. I had a few minutes to sit there and admire the trees leafing out in the warm weather.
I was fiddling with the car radio when Brooke drove by in her fire-engine-red BMW. I wasn’t too worried about following her, not even when she checked her rear view mirror. She was far too self-absorbed to notice anyone else.
I drove along with a smile on my face, wondering where she’d be meeting Sammy Dash this time. And what they’d get up to.
It wasn’t always easy trailing Brooke, since she showed a disinclination to signal lane changes or even turns. We wound along Alta Vista and down Pleasant Park to Riverside Drive, and then followed Riverside to Bank. Except for having to keep an eye on Brooke, it was a pleasant drive, water, lots of green space. Brooke turned right on Bank, drove to the Glebe and parked on Fourth Avenue.
I watched, slouched down in my car, as she headed for the ATM. I had to admit, she would make a first-rate representative for “Walk in the Woods”. Her blonde hair just cleared her shoulders and fluttered in the breeze. The vanilla-coloured linen suit with its elegant wrinkles showed off Brooke’s slim shape. The cut of the skirt above the knees confirmed my long-held suspicion that Brooke was eighty percent legs.
She smiled into the sunshine. Her public smile. A middle-aged man stopped walking and stared.
Too bad she’s such a bitch, I thought. Some of my reaction may have been related to my short legs. Who knows.
I almost lost her as we edged onto Bank Street again. Brooke headed for the Queen Elizabeth Driveway, which winds along the canal on the opposite side to Colonel By.
It’s amazing, I thought, this beautiful woman in her red Beamer is cruising along this beautiful road, and her activities are somehow tied to a murder.
I’d been keeping well behind her, and yet I still had to stand on my brakes to avoid her as she whipped, without a signal or a brake light, into Rudy Wendtz’s driveway.
I pulled over to the side of the road and crouched down again.
Seconds later, Wendtz pulled in after her and parked his black Mercedes.
I don’t suppose they see that many passionate clinches on Queen Elizabeth Driveway. But this one would have made up for any lack. Two tall people, pressed together, for all the world to see. Of course, the world wasn’t looking. Only me.
They deserve each other, I told myself, glancing away towards the front door of the house. That’s when I noticed Large-and-Lumpy watching back.
* * *
Elaine kept talking as she ran the red light. I just pressed myself to the back of the seat and tried to remember my Act of Contrition. The Jeep, which accelerated at the green light, missed us by an inch.
“You have no idea,” she said, “how often these people faced death. And how that must feel.”
“I think I do.”
“It’s very difficult for them to find themselves in such a different culture. They’re frightened a lot.”
“I don’t want to frighten her, Elaine. I’m not very frightening, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Elaine took her eyes off the road.
“You believe that, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, Elaine, I do.”
She was still watching me, shaking her head.
“On the other hand, you, Elaine, are terrifying and should not be allowed on the road.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m serious. You can be quite intimidating for such a small person. You come on strong and, if you’ll pardon me mentioning it, you can be quite ruthless.”
“I’ll pardon you mentioning it, if you’ll make an effort to avoid getting us decapitated by that truck ahead.”
A squeal of brakes followed.
“Don’t exaggerate, the truck was a good foot away. And back to the topic. These people are sensitive and fearful. They don’t need to be hassled by the police.”
“May I remind you that I’m not the police, Elaine.”
“I realize that. But if Maria has some information, then you may be forced to inform the police, and you know what stormtroopers they can be.”
“I do, indeed.”
“Maria was quite upset by the whole thing with Mitzi Brochu. I mean, she was so close to that dreadful murder. Can you imagine how traumatic that must have been?”
“Yes. I was there myself. So I know only too well.”
“Well then, you understand that we don’t want her to relive that trauma.”
Elaine stood on her brakes as if to punctuate her point. We stopped for seconds at a red light and then screeched away the moment it turned green.
“Let me repeat, Elaine, that I only want to show her some photos and ask if she has ever seen these people near Mitzi’s room. With particular reference to the day of the murder, when she was working right there on that floor.”
We pulled off Scott Street onto Parkdale and Elaine stopped under a No Parking sign.
“Here we are,” she said, opening her car door without looking. A passing driver swerved and turned back to shake his fist. Elaine didn’t notice.
I got out on the passenger’s side and considered mentioning that two wheels of the car were up on the sidewalk, but it didn’t seem worth it.
* * *
Was it just the language barrier? Did she not understand the question Elaine had translated? Elaine and I watched Maria Rodriguez give an affirmative nod to almost every photo. Even the ones that didn’t belong in the set of suspects. Like me, taken at a family dinner.
“You were there,” Elaine commented.
We were sitting around the dinette set in the dining ell on one of the few bits of furniture in Maria Rodriguez’s apartment. Even the sounds of her husband and children laughing at Bugs Bunny in the next room couldn’t lift the tension in the air.
You could see it in Maria’s black eyebrows and the lines around her mouth.
I’d seen it too in the stiff shoulders of both the Rodriguez adults and in the huge, dark eyes of their children. As Elaine said, these were people who’d already had enough trouble.
Maria studied the photos I’d spread out on the beige, formica-topped table. They were a mixture of business and pleasure, friends and family blended with my own crew of suspects.
Deb Goodhouse, Jo Quinlan, Rudy Wendtz, Brooke Findlay, Large-and-Lumpy, Sammy Dash all got the nod from Maria. So did Robin.
She didn’t recognize the rest of my family. Only me.
Maria wasn’t sure about Mrs. Parnell, but after some thought decided she hadn’t seen Mrs. Parnell at the Harmony.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s no problem. I’m glad somebody wasn’t there.”
I wasn’t sure how much it helped my investigation t
o have every suspect confirmed as a visitor to Mitzi Brochu’s suite at the Harmony the day of the murder.
“You sure you saw all these people, Maria?”
Elaine shook her head at me. “You’re pushing too hard.”
I decided to lighten up a bit and pointed to a picture of the cats.
The cats got a clear no.
At least it let the three of us laugh.
* * *
“She recognized all six suspects,” I said, accepting a refill. “So I have to ask myself, did she really recognize them or was she just unclear about the concept? And to think I risked Elaine’s driving, and I still don’t know whether Maria understood the questions or not.”
Richard smiled and sipped his Sambuca.
“It is not amusing,” I growled, before sipping my own.
The Sambuca was just the way I like it, with three coffee beans in the bottom of the snifter, still warm from being flamed. It took the edge off the growl.
“You know, I think I’d like to meet this Elaine.”
“Good idea, I’ll fix the two of you up for a Sunday drive sometime.”
“All kidding aside, any danger you might have been facing from Elaine’s driving is nothing compared to what you’re exposing yourself to if you continue to stalk this killer.”
“I can see you haven’t been in a car with her.”
“Listen to me. You’re dealing with someone who crucified a woman. Talk to the police.”
I was bathed in irritation. This was like lunch with my sisters.
“Sulk if you want. But I like you much better alive,” he said.
I could feel his hand on mine as he spoke. I remembered his daughter. And his wife. I jerked my hand away.
“Or I could talk to the police myself. Tell them you have this interesting stuff and they might like to chat with you about it.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He tapped my nose with his finger and smiled. I would have gotten up and stomped out of the bar at that point except my knees were wobbling.
And of course, I didn’t have my car. I had to ask myself why I managed never to have my car when I was with Richard, so he always had to drive me home. For that matter, why was I wearing a knit dress instead of my chunky suit? And lipstick, for heaven’s sake.
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