Little Boy Blues (31 page)

While we waited for Alvin to get his stitches, I called Lianne Hornyk. Like everyone else in the world, she had voice mail.

I left a crisp message, telling her we had a lead, and repeating my cellphone number twice in case she’d lost it. I asked her exactly what made her think it was a woman driving the car that ran down her husband.

When I looked up, I found myself facing a reporter from
The Citizen
, one of P. J.’s buddies, a woman with shaggy black hair and a dangerous grin.

“Did P. J. rat us out?” I said. Usually I like her a lot.

“Can’t reveal my sources. Want to give me an interview?”

She was blocking the entrance. Although she did have a great grin, it wasn’t enough to get a story out of Deveau. “No comment,” he said pleasantly, revealing his cop training.

Mrs. Parnell wouldn’t have broken under torture. Alvin might have blurted out information, but luckily he’d gone in to get his stitches. I’d also suggested a sedative, but not every doctor does what I say.

That left me for the interview. But I didn’t plan to have the papers get the scoop on Will Redmore before the cops did their jobs.

“I’ve promised P. J. an exclusive. It’s the least I could do for him. I guess you could say he encouraged me to enter
The Citizen
’s Bluesfest contest, and I won those two Clubhouse passes.”

“What?”

“I won them. Tell you what. When this is over, even if P. J. gets the scoop, we’ll see you get a worthwhile interview. How’s that? But we’d like to be alone now. We’re under a lot of strain.”

“What contest are you talking about?”

“
The Citizen
contest. The draw for the Clubhouse passes. I won it. I really wouldn’t have entered if P. J. hadn’t pushed it, so to speak.”

“First I’ve heard of this contest. Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” I showed my wristband.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure. What the hell was P. J. up to this time?

• • •

Our reporter had given up and departed seeking more cooperative types, and Deveau was driving us home when the call came through from New Brunswick.

“Camilla? It’s Lianne Hornyk here. You asked what made me think it was a woman who killed Greg? I have thought a lot about it. The car was speeding towards us, of course, but I got a good look at the person driving. I couldn’t see the colour of her hair because she was wearing one of those expensive scarves tied over her head, you know, that French design, tied like she was a movie star from the early sixties. She had sunglasses on. The bad news is, because of the scarf and the sunglasses, I couldn’t ever really identify her... What else can I tell you? She was thin and elegant. Sort of Hepburnish. She even wore gloves... I hope this helps, but I don’t see how it can. I gave all the information to the police, but I don’t think they thought it would do them much good. You can imagine why.”

I could.

“Hermès,” Alvin said when I passed on the information. “They’re called Hermès, those scarves.”

I said, “Whatever.”

“Ms. MacPhee, I believe we have a strategic problem with
the idea of Mr. Redmore being the hit and run driver.”

“I know what you’re going to say, Mrs. P. The man’s like a well-dressed mountain. No one would ever mix him up with a woman.”

Alvin said, “Not even in a car? Wearing a Hermès scarf and sunglasses to hide his face?”

“No. Not even wearing a tent. The guy must have been a linebacker in college. He’s got hands like patio slabs, and it would be obvious to anyone.”

“So that means it couldn’t have been him.”

“All it means, Alvin, is that there’s something we still don’t know.”

Alvin said, “Anyway, we can’t think about that now. We have to get out and find Jimmy.”

At that point, Deveau butted in. “Look, you’ve all been through a rough experience. You need to go home and get some rest. You were almost killed today, and you need to look after yourselves. You might consider getting cleaned up too.”

“Jimmy comes first,” Alvin said.

“The Ottawa cops are out in force. I checked with Lennie. They’ve put extra foot patrols in the Market and other key spots. They’ve issued a major media alert. They’ll probably do a house-to-house in the area near the Gallery. And they’re calling for volunteer searchers. I’ll head back as soon as I drop you off. I’ll keep you in the loop. They’ll find Jimmy.”

“What if he’s hurt? There was glass flying everywhere. He could be injured. His medication would have barely kicked in. After all he’s been through, this last shock could trigger a seizure.”

Mrs. Parnell took Alvin’s arm. “Dear boy, your family are also checking the hospitals. They’ll be on the lookout. It will all end well.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t convinced.

Deveau drove us home and insisted on coming up. Once we were in my apartment, he said: “I’m heading back downtown. But I want you to listen to me. You just finished picking glass out of your head. Alvin’s experience would put most people in the hospital. Mrs. Parnell talks a good story, but she’s eighty years old.”

“Seventy-nine.”

“I think you get my point, Camilla. Someone’s playing a very dangerous game, and we don’t know what it is. Make sure you three don’t do anything foolish.”

“Absolutely. I think the best thing we can do is sit tight and use our brains.”

• • •

Mrs. Parnell was serving up Harvey’s, purely for its medicinal value. I declined. So did Alvin. Gussie, sensing a wounded spirit, snuggled in. Mrs. Parnell’s cat chose me instead. Lester and Pierre shrieked indiscriminately.

“What kind of woman would wear a fancy French scarf on a holiday in Sydney?” I said.

“Hermès, Camilla,” Alvin said. “You’re right. They set you back a couple hundred dollars.”

“I know the ones you mean. Gold, swirly designs. My sister Edwina got one on her thirtieth anniversary trip to France. That’s my point.”

“You mean not everyone in Sydney would have one?”

“Exactly. But more important, if you’re looking at a speeding car, how could you know someone was wearing imported silk or just a K-Mart imitation?” I said.

“I probably could,” Alvin said.

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. But I couldn’t. Do we think Lianne can?”

“There’s something about them. You can spot the real thing a mile off.”

“So there’s the other angle. Who’s going to be walking around looking like that? In July? With gloves yet.”

“Be serious, Camilla. No one.”

“That’s my point. You’d be extremely noticeable in the casual crowd around Charlotte Street, done up as Audrey Hepburn, even without the gloves.”

Alvin’s eyes gleamed. “Everyone would be trying to figure out who you were.”

“If they could stop laughing long enough.”

“Exactly. It’s a disguise.”

“Obviously.”

“Bear with me. Ask yourself, why would the person want to be disguised.”

“Let me think. Maybe because fatal hit and run is illegal?”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Alvin. The person didn’t want to be identified. Does that mean she
would
be recognized?”

“She might be someone well-known around Sydney, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

“That would include Honey Redmore, even though she’s been gone for years.”

“And even more to the point, it indicates the person who killed Greg Hornyk had an intended victim. I think she planned to kill Jimmy and she decided in advance to put the scarf on and the sunglasses and the gloves.”

“But you don’t think it was Honey.”

“I find it hard to believe, although this whole thing’s been
hard to believe. It’s easier to picture the brother trying to eliminate Jimmy, as the person who could finger him, not only as a childhood bully, but also an adult who makes false accusations. He’s still a bully, only now he has a network audience.”

“But like you said, the guy’s practically a giant. Anyway, Honey also knew Jimmy didn’t do anything. So wiping out Jimmy doesn’t even make sense.”

“Yes, and that’s my other point.”

“What?”

“The only person who would have a reason to kill Jimmy is a person who actually thought Jimmy was responsible for Mr. Redmore’s death.”

“But you’ve explained that Honey and her brother both knew it wasn’t true.”

“Yes. But I’m betting the mother didn’t know.”

“That Mrs. Redmore was like a hound from hell afterwards. She practically attacked Ma in broad daylight right on Charlotte Street.”

“Indicating an unstable and vindictive personality.”

“You said it.”

“But an elegant, well-dressed woman, who would probably own a whatdoyoucallitscarf.”

“Hermès. And yes.”

“What does she look like?”

“I haven’t seen her for years, but she looked like an older version of Honey. Not so pretty, but the same physical type.”

“And people would recognize her on the street in Sydney.”

“Not everyone, but there’d be a good chance.”

Mrs. Parnell raised her glass. “At last, it is beginning to make sense.”

“Some of it is. It certainly could explain why Greg Hornyk
was killed. But it doesn’t tell us why Jimmy would go into hiding. Would he have been afraid of Mrs. Redmore?”

“Probably not, but remember with Jimmy, it’s not always logical. Maybe he saw the brother with her and remembered the bullying. They were all there.”

“You forget a woman chased Jimmy that afternoon,” Mrs. Parnell said. “If that was Mrs. Redmore, he most certainly would have been fearful of her after that.”

“That’s true,” Alvin said.

“But it doesn’t explain who torched Alvin’s apartment building. Or who killed Reefer,” I said.

“If Mrs. Redmore lives here, she could have done it,” Alvin said.

“Maybe. But how would she know where you lived? How would she know Jimmy was there?”

“And would she have driven the Buick through the Gadzooks window?” Mrs. Parnell puffed thoughtfully. “How could she know we were at the Gallery?” Alvin said. “She couldn’t.”

“Holy shit,” I said. “She sure could have. Her son knew. He could have called her. He was there when we said we were picking up you and Jimmy. We don’t even know what she looks like. Maybe she was in the audience. She wouldn’t have had to know where we were going. All she had to do was follow us.”

“It certainly took long enough to get out of that garage,” Mrs. P. said.

“Too bad we don’t have a witness,” Alvin said.

I thought back. “Maybe we do.”

• • •

Deveau showed up at my place again at six with pizza and a
sheepish look. Mrs. Parnell and Alvin and I were planning our next strategies. I seemed to be the only one who found his visit surprising.

We wolfed the pizza, leaving hardly any for Gussie. It’s amazing how hungry you get dodging death.

“Well, that was great. Thanks, Ray. Now tell me, do you want to help me track down a witness?”

“Actually, I want to get over and talk to Father Blaise.”

“Father Blaise? He finally called back?”

“No. Didn’t I tell you? What’s the name of your big hospital? Anyway, he’s there.
ICU
.”

“The General. And you did not tell me. What’s he there for?”

“I thought I told you. Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

“Okay, I know what happened. I found out from Leonard, but when I heard your car crashed into that Gallery and then Jimmy got away again, I guess it just flew out of my mind. It’s a tragedy. But it’s not like Father Blaise was directly related to the case.”

I let that pass. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”

“I went over to St. Paul’s, and they told me he’d been hit by a car the night before last.”

“Holy shit,” I said. “You don’t think that’s related? That would make four instances where someone’s using a car as a weapon.”

“My God. I can’t believe I missed that connection. I thought it a case of an old man in a strange city getting hit by a car. I don’t know if it was a hit and run.” No chuckle from Deveau as he picked up his cellphone. “We’ve got to get over and talk to him.”

Alvin, looking haggard and dejected, headed out to join the
family. “Say hello to Father Blaise. Tell him we’re looking for Jimmy.”

Mrs. Parnell said “I’ll smoke out that Redmore creature while you’re gone. I’ll check what Donald Donnie and Loretta have to say about her. We’ll see if we can get a photo of her somewhere. And we’ll get them to show it to the woman in Sydney who saw Jimmy being chased in her backyard.”

“Mrs. Smith.”

“Precisely. We can also send a copy to the young widow, Ms. Hornyk.”

“Terrific. I’ll be off.”

• • •

Deveau and I were halfway down the hall when the elevator doors dinged open. P. J. emerged and turned in our direction.

“Oh,” he said, looking at Deveau and then back to me. “I was late getting your message. I thought I’d drop in and see if you were all right.”

“Never better. By the way, I had a fascinating chat with a colleague of yours about
The Citizen’s
Bluesfest contest.”

P. J. paled. “Oh, I can explain. When we’re alone. But anyway, I have this tape of
Face Off
. I thought since Alvin missed it, he might watch and see if he recognizes Redmore.”

“I’ll take that,” I said. “You’re in a hurry to get out of here.”

“I am?” P. J. had that expression he gets when I’ve caught him in a lie, and he hasn’t figured out how to weasel out of it. Yet.

“Trust me.” I didn’t feel like sharing an elevator with him. I’d watched the little liar slither off before it occurred to me he’d kept the tape.

Deveau chuckled, but I wasn’t smiling.

We struck out big-time at the General. Not even Deveau’s official cop status was enough to get us past the nursing station at the
ICU
.

The only thing that moved us forward was a call from Mombourquette. Mombourquette didn’t want to talk to me.

“You were right,” Deveau said afterwards. “It was another hit and run. Another stolen vehicle. The woman at St. Paul’s didn’t even mention it yesterday.”

“Maybe they didn’t know. Where did it take place?”

“I didn’t even think to ask. If the person can attack in Sydney and Ottawa, I guess he can get around.”