Law and Disorder (13 page)

“Good neighbour,” I said.

“Bad neighbour. Much too nosy.” Coco raised her glass and twinkled.

SEVEN

How can you tell when a lawyer is lying?
-Her lips are moving.

I
t was just past ten when I snuggled into bed with Gussie and the cat and made my nightly call to Ray. The air had cooled enough to leave the windows open and the air conditioner off. Somehow that seemed like a luxury.

“I see you left several voice mails and also phoned a few more times without leaving any messages,” I said.

“Just wanting to know how everything is going.”

“Great,” I said. “Just great.”

“And the girls?”

“They got here in one piece. Well, two pieces, not including luggage.”

“They’re settled in?”

“For sure. They’ve been training all day and…” I realized I was light on Ashley and Brittany details. In fact, I had no idea if they were even back in the house. I heaved myself out of bed and padded along the hallway to the guest room, leaving a disgruntled dog and cat behind. In the guest quarters, clothing lay jumbled around on one side of the room and folded neatly on the other. I wondered which of the girls was like me and which was like my neat freak sisters. But it didn’t matter because they weren’t there.

“Can I talk to them?” Ray said.

“Ah, well, you could, but they’re not back yet.”

“Not back from where?”

“Training, I imagine.”

“In the dark? Are you pulling my leg?”

“It hasn’t been dark long, Ray. I imagine they’re hanging around with the team after—” I wasn’t really sure after what, but stopped myself in time.

“After what?”

“Are you fully present in this conversation, Ray?” Sometimes the best defence is a good offence.

“Nice play, Shakespeare. I know when you’re stalling me.”

“Fine. I don’t know where they are. They’re grown women. Aren’t they both going to university in Halifax? Were you expecting me to shadow them?” I thumped back to bed and disturbed the menagerie once again.

“Just try to show a bit of interest. It’s not just a matter of keeping them well-fed and giving them a place to sleep, you know.”

Well-fed? That hadn’t crossed my mind, although Alvin had cottoned on. It sounded like it was something that Ray took for granted. I was new to this whole
in loco parentis
gig, and there was more to it than I’d imagined. “I hear a note of exasperation in your voice, Ray. I find it very sexy. Don’t snort. The thing is, the girls seem amazingly in charge and independent. And this is Ottawa, after all, not the fleshpots of—”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. They’re my girls. I guess I want you to care about them too. I know we’ve had a lot of issues with them, but they’re past that now. They’ve turned into…” His voice trailed off.

“Women. I hardly recognized them. All those muscles. And very expensive hair. Gorgeous highlights. But you know me, Ray. I have to ease into the situation.”

“I do know you. And I guess it’s too late to back out now.”

“Very funny. No one’s holding you captive.” As the romantic moment seemed to have fizzled out, I decided I might as well bring up the subject of the jokes and get some advice from my favourite police officer. “Listen, I need to talk to you about—”

“The girls?”

“No. Nothing to do with the girls.”

A long peal of laughter from the backyard made me sit up. I dislodged Gussie and the little cat yet again, hustled over to the window and peered out.

“Hang on, they’re outside with Alvin, laughing their heads off. I imagine the neighbours will call in the police shortly, but in the meantime, before the bylaw officer shows up, I’ll take my phone out to them.”

So much for joke talk. I picked up the kitchen receiver on the way out so they could have equal access. After doing my bit for family solidarity, I stomped back to bed, nudging the zoo out of the way. I’d have to discuss the latest on this joke situation with Ray some other time.

In the morning, I noticed the message light on the phone base was flashing. Since I hadn’t heard the phone ring, I concluded the call must have come in while Ray was talking to the girls. and they’d just let it go to message. That might also explain why I couldn’t find the receivers for the phones. Both turned up outside on lawn chairs. Must be great to be young, I thought grumpily.

Coco Bentley sounded pleased with herself in her message. “I had an interesting talk about you with France Cardarelle. Didn’t even have to have dinner,” she said. “Call me when you get a chance. No rush. And in the meantime, don’t be too surprised if you get a visit from her.”

Of course there was no answer when I called her back. I figured we’d have an irritating game of telephone tag for the rest of the day. In the meantime, I had something to discuss with Alvin before I walked Gussie. The dog was as flatulent as ever. Even Mrs. Parnell’s little cat had swished out of the room in the middle of the night, and Lester and Pierre looked like they were about to pitch off their perches.

Alvin did not respond well to my inquiry about feeding the girls.

“Of course I got food in for the girls,” he snapped. “They’re athletes in training. What do you think? I’m going to let them starve? Just because you’re happy to eat all your meals in restaurants and never let a vitamin cross your lips doesn’t mean that other people are. They’ll be well looked after as long as Alvin Ferguson is around. You can pick up the costs.”

“Put it up against my tab for taking care of your dog for more than four years. And walking him. Which reminds me, what have you been feeding him? He reeks.”

Alvin ignored that. “Who’s at the door?”

“I don’t know, but as it’s not even eight in the morning, it’s no one I want to see. Oh wait, I hope it’s not—”

Alvin stuck his head out of the kitchen. “It’s that real estate lady. She’s not as nice and smart as I thought she was. And why is she here so early every day?”

“Damned if I know, Alvin, but you’re in charge. I have to walk this dog. He’s disgusting. Do your best to discourage her. Show her your tattoo.”

I grabbed Gussie’s leash and a handful of doggie do bags, and the two of us made an escape out the back door, leaving Alvin to fend off Jacki Jewell.

“Let’s go and make it snappy just this once, Gussie. I have stuff to do today,” I said as we jumped the low fence.

Ten minutes later, it was obvious that Gussie had only understood the “let’s go” part of that directive. We had sniffed our way down Third Avenue to O’Connor and then along to Second Avenue. With Gussie stopping every three feet, we’d worked our way south on Bank, past all the appealing shops, still closed, and over to Fourth. There was a lot to smell, I guess, on Fourth, including the tantalizing aroma of someone cooking bacon for breakfast. I was getting hungry by the time we got ourselves back along O’Connor to our street again.

“This is your last chance,” I groused as we approached the house. Gussie slowed at the sound of that, although he did lift his leg to decorate a tire on a Volvo parked in front of our house.

“Sorry,” I mouthed with a shrug to the driver. I did a double-take and glanced at the driver again. I stopped and stared.

The door of the Volvo slowly opened. Might even have been a scene from a movie if there had only been a bit of ominous music playing in the background.

Mme Cardarelle stepped out. She was casually dressed this time, in white pants and a black tunic. She had a red cardigan tied loosely around her neck and dark red leather sandals on her feet.

“I’d like to talk to you. I’m sorry if it’s too early. I can’t sleep since Robert died.”

I wanted to talk to her too. “No problem. Gussie won’t mind. Shall we walk a bit?”

She stared at me.

I said, “We can go inside if you’d prefer, but I warn you, you may encounter two rowing-obsessed teenaged girls and a truly frightening real estate agent. Plus the world’s most annoying office assistant.”

“Oh, yes, I think I may have spoken to him on the phone,” she said. “Let’s walk.”

Gussie enjoyed this get-out-of-jail-free card and meandered a bit faster. He pulled on the leash, and I had to hold on to keep from being forced to gallop.

I had said nothing by the time we reached the end of the block. I had no idea why she was there, and I didn’t want to spoil it by pushing for information too soon. She kept her gaze on Gussie as we walked, seemingly fascinated. Gussie in turn stopped pulling and sidled up to her, leaning in with that cuddly way that’s quite appealing.

“Is he friendly?” she said with a hint of nervousness.

“Gussie has taken a shine to you,” I said, “that’s why you’re being leaned on.”

“Oh. I don’t really know much about dogs. I never had one. My husband didn’t believe in pets. I would have liked a dog. A small one, I think.”

“Gussie’s very affectionate, but no one’s ever accused him of being small.”

“I suppose not,” she said.

“You can scratch his ears. That will make you popular.” I did a demo, and Gussie, the ingrate, didn’t so much as cast a glance my way. Madame Cardarelle got the big brown eyes treatment. Heartbreaking. Luckily she missed the gassy output that often accompanied such expressions.

With great concentration, the elegant and dignified judge’s widow scratched behind Gussie’s ear. Gussie gazed at her with adoration.

“Tell me,” she said finally, turning back to me, “why you really came to see me.”

“I wanted to learn something about your husband.” A passing squirrel caught Gussie’s attention, and I held tight to the leash.

“What did you want to learn?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I felt grateful to him.”

She stopped and turned to me. “That’s not entirely true, is it?”

I dug in my heels to keep Gussie from dashing after the squirrel and admitted, “Not entirely.”

She said, “I’m here because I had a talk with my neighbour, Coco Bentley. She said she knew you.”

I managed to halt Gussie’s progress, but only barely. “She does.”

“She suggested that I should talk to you and be frank. She said that you are a good person and not as unfeeling as you look. And I should just tell you the truth.”

Unfeeling? Look who was talking. But, whatever. “Good idea. I’m in if you are.”

“So why did you come to see me?

Still excited by the squirrel, Gussie was definitely pulling me along. I used every bit of my strength to stop him. This wasn’t a conversation I could have shouting over my shoulder. When Gussie was under control, I said, “Because I thought your husband might have been murdered.”

She stumbled. I reached out and caught her arm. As she steadied herself, the colour drained from her face. The smart red cardigan now seemed harsh next to her suddenly grey skin. She whispered. “Murdered?”

“I’m sorry to shock you.” I didn’t say that I knew she wasn’t grieving for this man. But of course, there’s a major leap between not grieving for someone and not minding that they’d been murdered.

She steadied herself. “Why would you even imagine such a bizarre thing?”

“Because of a joke that was sent the day before he died. And a piece of paper that arrived the next day.”

“I don’t understand. What joke?”

“To tell the truth, I don’t understand either. I thought perhaps you had received a joke. Or he had. I am sorry.”

She shook her head, then stopped. Her eyes widened. “What was this joke?”

“I don’t know.”

“I may have seen a joke on a piece of paper in Robert’s study. It didn’t make any sense at the time.”

I said, “Did he mention the joke to you?”

“No. He wouldn’t have. He wasn’t one for chatting even though it was the day before my surgery and I was apprehensive about it. Never mind, I just noticed it when I was bringing his tea.”

“Another question: you took some trouble to find me this morning. Why?”

“I knew you weren’t telling me the truth. Robert wouldn’t have given a young lawyer the time of day. If you’d asked him for advice, he would probably have enjoyed refusing. Then my neighbour Coco Bentley had some comments that intrigued me, really. But what is your connection to this? Why would someone murder Robert? What does the joke mean?”

I looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know. I am receiving the same jokes. And the next day, I get a piece of paper with a person’s name on it, Then I learn that person has died.” Of course, this was secondhand from Bunny. “I don’t know why anyone would send me those jokes or the names. Strangely enough, your husband was not the only person to be the subject of a joke.”

“Other people got them too?”

“They did. Two others that I know of.”

She said, “And did anything happen to those people?”

“They died.”

Her hand shot to her throat. “How did they die?”

“A combination of murder and a so-called accident.”

“My goodness. Who were they?”

“One was the lawyer for the Brugel case.”

Her eyes widened. “I heard it on the news. I assumed it had to do with the terrible people he was defending. Robert made disparaging remarks about that lawyer.”

“He wasn’t alone in that. But there was also a joke and then a note with his name.”