Speak Ill of the Dead (15 page)

I wasn’t one block away from the house when a car pulled up beside me. A portable flashing light was perched on its roof. McCracken was inside.

I pulled over, surprised at how my heart was thumping. Large-and-Lumpy, for all our instant rapport, had made me very, very edgy. To say nothing of his keeper.

McCracken’s laid-back good humour was eclipsed by a somber stiffness. It didn’t look right on him. Big men like that should be good-natured and outgoing.

“What the hell are you doing at Wendtz’s place?” he asked, leaning over my window.

“What you should be doing, McCracken. Investigating.”

“You’d better leave that to us.”

“Glad to, if you’d do your job and arrest a certain well-known member of the underworld who we both know probably offed the victim with a smile on his face. Instead of badgering gentle cat lovers to their grave.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“Of course, he did it. And we both know it. And I’m going to prove it while you sit on your duff.”

McCracken’s eyes bulged. “Interfere with this case any more…”

“What any more?”

“…and I’ll arrest you, for all kinds of interesting things.”

“I’d enjoy that, McCracken. We’d both make a splash in the media.”

McCracken stood up. “Hang around Wendtz and you’ll make the papers all right. Some sad little missing persons announcement. Use your brains on this one, for God’s sake.”

He started back to his car. I knew he hated to ask me about Alexa, and I wondered how long he could hold out.

Not long. He turned and walked back.

“You know, you may have stirred something up here. Who knows what you’re going to have to deal with as a result. These guys are pretty dangerous. Here’s my home number in case you ever have to get in touch with me. It’s unlisted. Any time you need help or advice.” It must have hurt him to say that, his jaw was so tense. “And if you want to pass it on to your sister, that’s okay too.”

*   *   *

I parked in the open air lot on O’Connor and walked a couple of blocks to the joke shop. Not as fancy as wherever Stan gets his stuff, but it took my mind off the Benning brief for a little longer, and gave me a chance to chuckle my way out of the chill created by Rudy Wendtz.

The office phone was ringing when I returned with my purchases. Someone persistent enough to keep trying while I fiddled with the key and let myself in.

“Where the hell do you go in that little office that it takes you seventeen rings to answer the phone? Just tell me that.”

“Temper, temper, Merv. You don’t want to have a stroke.”

“Right. If my doctor knew about you, he’d put you on a list with cheap whisky and cigarettes and french fries.

Health hazard.”

“My secret ambition, Merv.”

“I’ll bet it is, too. Listen, I didn’t call you just to chew the fat. There’s a point.”

“Get to it then, Merv.”

I could hear him exhale.

“This guy Wendtz. He is major bad news. Remain as far away as you can from him. Do not meddle. He is connected.

He is into some very bad stuff. Capish?”

“Point taken. Of course, you’re a bit too late.”

“Christ, Camilla. You got a death wish or something? Half the police forces in this country, including our own, have an eye on this guy, and there’s you sticking your little pointed nose in.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Merv. My nose is not pointed. And if so many police forces, including our own, have so much interest, how come they don’t nail him for Mitzi’s murder, which he committed? Tell me that.”

“They’d sell their souls to nail him for Mitzi’s murder, they just happen to know he didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, right, and how do they know that? Were they with him at the time?”

“Jeez, that’s just it. They were. The guy was under surveillance the whole night. He’s been the subject of a major drug investigation. He wasn’t out of their sight for two minutes. Some alibi, eh? Half the members in this town can swear he didn’t do it.”

It was my turn to be quiet, and when I spoke again it was through clenched teeth.

“I don’t care what your mounties saw or think they saw, Merv, this guy’s involved in this killing. Maybe he didn’t do it himself, but I bet he made it happen. The local boys never even followed up properly on that blow-up he had with Mitzi the night before she was killed. I saw his face today when I mentioned Brooke Findlay. There’s a connection. And according to my sources, Mitzi was about to do a real number on Brooke. That’s why Robin’s reacting the way she is.”

“What did Robin ever do to end up in a family like that?”

“Unlucky, I guess.”

“Can’t you talk some sense into her?”

“I’ll try, now that I have a bit of ammunition.”

But I had two calls to make first.

Lunch at the Harmony was an experience to soothe your soul. The music soothed. Chopin’s
Nocturnes
. The wine soothed. California chardonnay. The food soothed. Shrimp and scallops, with basmati rice and four perfect bitsy witsy vegetables. Richard Sandes didn’t soothe, although he might have wanted to. Just the opposite. I could feel my heart going boom-bitty-boom underneath my teal suit.

“You look different today. What’s up?” he asked.

I smiled at him and kept my dirty thoughts to myself.

“Just excitement, I guess.”

“Excitement?”

I looked into Richard’s brown eyes. This was a man you could bare your soul to. I explained about Wendtz and Large-and-Lumpy and about McCracken and what Merv had said, leaving out the bitchy things that I, myself, had said. But he didn’t react the way I wanted.

“For God’s sake. Why do you want to take these chances?”

I looked at him in surprise. “Because I want to end Robin’s involvement once and for all by finding out what really happened.”

He sighed. “And if it turns out that her sister, as miserable as you say she is, is involved, do you think your friend will thank you?”

I shot him a black look, because, of course, he had identified my greatest fear.

He laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” I snapped. “You’re not supposed to laugh when someone looks at you like that.”

I expected him to stop at that, but he didn’t. After a minute of shaking, he picked up the soft apricot napkin and wiped his eyes with it.

“Hehehehehe!” he said.

“Oh shut up, you remind me of a set of teeth I once knew.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving his eyes one last wipe, “I know I shouldn’t have laughed like that. If anyone knows this horrible case is serious, it should be me. I’m still dealing with the brass over it. God knows if I’ll even keep my job from one day to the other. So I’d like the whole thing cleared up just as much as you would.”

“Oh, good,” I said, “so why are you laughing then, if it’s so goddam serious, as far as you’re concerned?”

“It’s just the thought of you, in your little teal suit, with the bit of cat hair on the sleeve,” he reached over and plucked it off as he was speaking, “it’s just the thought of you backing these guys into a corner. I mean, I’ve seen Wendtz, the guy’s huge, and these other guys, Large and Lumpy and McCracken…” He started to laugh again.

“Large-and-Lumpy,” I said, with a great deal of dignity, “is only one person.”

But I had lost him again.

I sat there with my lips pursed until he was finished.

“Sorry, sorry,” he wheezed a bit later. “I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the tiny little pumps. I just see you standing there waving your fist and barking at these guys, and they’re huddling…”

“Size six,” I said, “not tiny little pumps. And none of these guys were huddling. Richard, I thought you were on my side.”

“I am. Oh, I am. And once I get past the funny side, I have to make the point that you should leave it to the police. They know what they’re doing.”

“They do not know what they’re doing, or they wouldn’t be so interested in Robin as a suspect. They would not be denying that Wendtz was involved, and they would not be sitting on their butts.”

“Whoa,” he said. “I agree they’re off base about Robin. You only have to see her once to know that. She reminded me a bit of my wife, totally incapable of hurting any living thing. I bet she opens the door to escort spiders from the premises.”

I had seen Robin do that. But what was this wife thing?

I stared across the table at Richard, his Belgian chocolate eyes, still a bit damp, his lean brown hands that I usually couldn’t stop watching, his bony good looks and gentle manner. I felt a sharp pain behind my rib cage. It was time to face the music.

“Your wife?”

“Mmm,” he said.

“I have to know about your wife. I have to know, are you still married? As we speak.”

Richard stared into the crumpled peach napkin in his hand as if the answer were printed there. It took a while for the words to come.

“Yes,” he said, “we are.”

I felt my head swimming. The small, smothered rational part of my being tried to tell me it didn’t matter. I wasn’t over Paul yet. I’d only known Richard a short time, he was too old, the circumstances under which I’d met him had been too gruesome, I’d known all along he had a family. But none of it helped.

I clutched the tablecloth and held on. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry, God, I keep saying I’m sorry today. I should have told you our story right from the start. But I thought you were just passing through. And I still find it painful to talk about. Still, that’s no excuse for not being straight with you.”

I waited, my fingers white.

“I am still married. My wife is in a psychiatric institution suffering from profound depression. Her state is catatonic. No one knows if she will come out of it. But if she does, we will be together again, so I guess I should be upfront about that. I love her and I miss her.”

I nodded, hoping my mouth didn’t twist too much.

“The doctors don’t hold out too much hope. But I hope anyway. Her facility is a good one, and it’s a little bit closer to Ottawa than to Toronto, which was why I asked for this transfer. It’s also why I’m usually out of town on my days off.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Has she been sick long?”

“A year and a half. She never got over our daughter’s death. She just couldn’t admit it happened.”

You could feel the pain emanating from him. The lines in his face that I’d found so sexy, I now realized were mementos of anguish. I hated to ask him anything else. And yet, I knew that this moment of candour wouldn’t come again with Richard.

“Your daughter…”

“She was so beautiful, just like her mother, but she had some medical problems that affected her heart, and one day it just gave out. Twenty-four years old and everything ahead of her. Beautiful. Masters degree from University of Toronto. Engaged. A wedding planned. And one day, it just stopped.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look, I should have told you this right away, but I had no idea that there would be anything between us.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I heard myself say, “it’s not like we made some kind of commitment or anything. A couple of meals together doesn’t make a relationship.”

“I hope we can still have lunch from time to time.”

“Of course,” I said, reaching out to pat his hand, a most un-Camilla-like gesture. “I knew you had a family, Richard, right from the start, from the photo in your office.” I didn’t bother to mention that I had hoped they’d been sliced from his life by divorce. A part of the past. “We can have lunch anytime you want. Nothing’s changed.”

But something had changed.

“Good,” he said.

“Look, before I get back to work, which is piling up, I just want to know if I can talk to the maid who was in the hallway the day of Mitzi’s death.”

He started to say something negative, I could tell.

“Maybe she heard something or saw something. Oh sure, I know the police probably questioned her, but I’d like to try again.”

Richard’s grin returned.

“Well, good luck. I hope you do better than the police. That particular employee is a very recent refugee from El Salvador. She speaks very little English, just enough to follow her instructions for work, and even there I think the housekeeper has to use a little show and tell.”

“I’m one hell of a mime.”

“I bet you are. Well, I’ll get you her name and work schedule, and you can give it a shot.”

We said good-bye in the aqua foyer, and I stepped outside and waved. Richard stood and watched me go. It wasn’t until I was out of his sight that I let myself slump a bit.

Sure, Richard would continue to be a friend. Kind of a Merv with manners. But the easy comfort with the sexy underpinnings had been destroyed. And let’s face it, I told myself, friendship was not what drew me to Richard in the first place. Anyway, if I wanted companionship, I had the damn cats.

Eleven

I
t had been quite a full day, what with meeting Wendtz under his rock and Richard’s revelation about his wife. My head was full of whirling information, and I wanted to flake out right after work.

But first I had to endure dinner with the family. And the cats were restless. Not only swarming me as soon as I got through the door, but causing me trouble even before that.

As I fumbled with my key, I heard my neighbour, Mrs. Parnell, coming out of her apartment.

Hurry, I urged myself, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurreeee, but I wasn’t fast enough.

“Ms. MacPhee,” she said, leaning forward on her walker in a menacing way, “meowing sounds continue to be heard coming from your apartment.” She took a triumphant drag from her cigarette in its majestic holder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shouted, hoping to drown out the cat noises. “We’ve had this discussion before.”

“I think you do know what I’m talking about.”

“Meowing sounds? That’s very peculiar, since I dislike animals.”

“Sounds like cats to me.”

“Cats?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Cats, not a difficult concept to grasp for one with seven years university education, Ms. MacPhee.”

“Well, Mrs. Parnell, I’ve been leaving the TV on to discourage burglars. Perhaps that is what you heard. Unless, of course, it is, as I suggested before, certain musical numbers you choose to play which have distinctive…um, feline tones to them.”