The Further Investigations of Joanne Kilbourn (47 page)

“You’d be wasting your money,” I said.

Greg came in from outside. “No wasting money, Mieka. We’ve got to act like grown-ups now. Speaking of which, it’s time we hit the road.”

“Give me five minutes, would you? Mum and I have some unfinished business.”

He shrugged. “Sure, I’ll go in and say goodbye to the kids.” He picked up the plate with the last of Julie’s lemon meringue pie. “I might as well take this with me.”

When he left, Mieka turned to me. “Are you and Alex having trouble, Mum?”

“Yes,” I said. “We are. Something happened.” I told my daughter about the incident on the Albert Street bridge. I didn’t gloss over the ugliness of the words the driver of the half-ton had hurled at me, and I didn’t hold back the fact that I’d run from Alex.

Mieka has the kind of translucent skin that colours with emotion, and by the time I’d finished her face was flushed. “That’s just so sick,” she said. “How can be people be like that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’d give anything to have handled what happened with a little more courage.”

“Did Alex go up north because he was angry?”

“No,” I said. “He was very understanding. He always is. I don’t think what happened that night would have been a huge problem except it was so obviously a sign of things to come. Alex is afraid that having to deal with that kind of bigotry day after day would change me, change all of us.”

“Is it that serious between you two?”

“I don’t know how serious it is, Mieka. I think that’s part of the problem. For a long time, Alex and I were just going
along, enjoying each other’s company, doing things with the kids. He’s so good with them. When they talk, he really listens to them, and he tells Taylor all these terrific Trickster stories.”

Mieka raised an eyebrow. “And, of course, he did teach Angus to drive. It must be love if he let a fifteen-year-old with a learner’s permit drive his Audi.”

“Alex would do that for any fifteen-year-old who wanted to get behind the wheel as much as Angus did. That’s the kind of man he is – generous and decent. And he’s an amazing lover.”

Mieka reddened and looked away.

“Sorry,” I said. “I forgot that mothers aren’t supposed to have sex.”

Mieka gave me a small smile. “They can have it; they’re just not supposed to tell their daughters about it.” Her face grew serious. “Alex isn’t much like Daddy, is he?”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not as long as Alex makes you happy.”

“He does. And I make him happy. But there are things that have to be considered.”

“Such as …?”

“Such as the fact that he’s nine years younger than I am and his experience of life has been very different from mine.”

“And those things matter?”

“I don’t know, Mieka. In the long run they might. I guess that’s what Alex and I have to figure out.”

When Greg and Mieka left, Taylor and Benny and I walked out to the car with them. We watched the car drive towards the Lewvan Expressway; as it disappeared from sight, Taylor tugged at my sleeve.

“Are you going to love that new baby, Jo?”

“You bet,” I said. “And I’m going to keep on loving you.” I knelt beside her. “Taylor, when you first came to live with
us, I didn’t really know you, but I wanted you with us because I loved your mother. Now I know you, and I want you with us because every single day in this house is better because you’re a part of it.”

I didn’t call Jill that night, but the next morning after I came in from my run with the dogs, I phoned her at home. There was no answer, but I left a message on her machine. When I got to work I called her office at Nationtv. Rapti Lustig answered and said Jill was working at her apartment that day.

“Isn’t that kind of unusual?” I said.

Rapti sighed. “Tell me one thing that’s usual around here these days.”

Jill phoned me at the university around noon. I’d just come back from a particularly rancorous department meeting, but when I heard her voice, I forgot about my colleagues’ crankiness.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“You don’t sound okay,” I said.

“My jaw’s sore. It’s hard to talk.”

“Is there anything I can bring you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Mieka said Tom was taking good care of you.”

“He’s right here,” she said. “That’s wonderful news about the baby, Jo. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Jill, are you really all right?”

She tried a laugh. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’d like to do more than see him,” I said. “But I guess that’s why we have a legal system. Look, I don’t have any classes around lunchtime tomorrow – why don’t I bring you over a crême brulée? That’s easy to eat, even with a hurt jaw.”

“Good old Jo. Food for every occasion. But something sweet and soft does sound tempting, and it would be great
to see you.” Despite the painful jaw, Jill sounded warm and welcoming.

“I’ll be there at noon,” I said, and as I hung up, I felt as if I’d scored a major victory.

When Kellee didn’t show up for the Politics and the Media seminar at 3:00, I knew the time had come to do what I should have done at the outset: find her and give her a chance to tell her side of the story. Neil McCallum had been vague about the name of Kellee’s aunt, but if his family had lived next door to Kellee’s all those years, his parents might remember hearing something about Kellee’s relative in British Columbia. As soon as class was over, I’d call him, but first I had the seminar to get through.

It was no easy task. The tension in the room was palpable. Ed Mariani had told me once that everyone who taught this particular group had been struck by their cohesiveness. Kellee Savage hadn’t been one of the elect, but her absence seemed to change the balance for the others. They were unusually quiet and uncharacteristically tentative in proffering their opinions. The minutes seemed to crawl by, and I was relieved when my watch finally indicated that it was time to go.

Val Massey and Jumbo Hryniuk were the last to leave. Beside Jumbo’s cheerful bulk, Val looked both slight and vulnerable. As they passed me, I reached out and touched Jumbo’s sleeve.

“I need to talk to you for a minute,” I said.

Val looked at me questioningly. “Should I wait for him in the hall or is it going to take a while?”

“It might take a while,” I said.

A flicker of concern pass across Val’s face, but he didn’t ask me anything else. He mumbled something to Jumbo about meeting him at the Owl, then he left.

Jumbo looked puzzled. “What’s up?”

“It has to do with a book. Did you check out a copy of
Sleeping Beauty
from the Education library?”

He grinned. “One of the guys got you to ask me that, right? Very funny.” He frowned. “Except I don’t get it.”

“It’s not a joke,” I said. “Actually, it might be pretty serious.”

“Then seriously,” he said, “I didn’t check out
Sleeping Beauty.”

“Did you lend your library card to anybody?”

Jumbo was no poker player. It was clear from his expression that my question had hit a nerve. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would you?”

For the first time, the gravity of the situation seemed to strike him. “Professor Kilbourn, can you tell me what this is about?”

“Of course,” I said. “But why don’t you sit down. I’m getting far too old to get a crick in my neck from looking up at a football player.”

The joke seemed to relax him, but as I told him about Kellee and the book and the note that had been left in her place at the seminar table, Jumbo’s amiability vanished, and he looked first confused, then frightened.

“I didn’t write any note,” he said. “I give you my word.”

“I believe you, but there’s still a problem. Jumbo, that book was taken out on your card. I know that because I had somebody at the Education library check it on the computer.”

I could see him mulling over the possibilities. He was not what they call in football a thoughtful player; nonetheless, that afternoon, Jumbo Hryniuk called the right play. “I’ll talk to the person involved,” he said.

“Make sure the person knows how serious this is.”

“I will,” he said.

Neil McCallum was happy to hear from me. Chloe had been running in the fields and come home full of burrs. It had taken him all afternoon to get them out of her coat, and as he worked, he had worried about Kellee. As it turned out, Neil was way ahead of me. He’d already asked his mother if she remembered the name of Kellee’s aunt. She didn’t, but she knew someone who she thought might be able to help. Neil said his mother was doing her best, and he would call me as soon as he heard anything.

Tuesday morning when I got back from taking the dogs for their run, the phone was ringing. It was Margaret McCallum, Neil’s mother. She was as affable as her son, but her news was disappointing. The woman she was counting on for help was a widow named Albertson who had spent the winter in Arizona. When Margaret had finally tracked down the woman’s number in Tucson, she learned that Mrs. Albertson, like many other snowbirds at the beginning of April, was on her way home. Echoing her son, Margaret McCallum told me that as soon as she had any information, she’d let me know.

I thanked her, wrote her name next to Neil’s in my address book, then went into the kitchen to hunt up my recipe for crême brulée. The kids were on Easter holidays, so I doubled the quantities and left a dish for them and put the one for Jill in a cooler and took it to the university with me. I had some newspaper articles I wanted to track down in the main library, so it was close to 11:30 when I got back to my office. Ed Mariani was sitting at the desk, marking papers.

“Finally,” he said theatrically. “I was just about to send out the bloodhounds.”

“Does this mean I’m grounded, Dad?” I said.

He grimaced. “Sorry, I guess that did sound a little paternalistic. It’s just that Jill Osiowy called, and she wanted to make sure you got her message before you headed off to her place.”

“What message?”

“Jill can’t be there for lunch. She had to fly to Toronto – Nationtv business. They’re apparently experiencing a crisis.”

“They’re always experiencing a crisis,” I said. I thought of Jill having to fly to Toronto when she was feeling lousy and looking worse. In the days of cutbacks and takeovers, corporate hearts were hardening. I started to pack up to go home, then I remembered the cooler sitting in my car. “How do you feel about crême brulée, Ed?” I asked.

“Love it,” he said.

“Good. Then let me snag us some bowls and spoons, and I’ll buy you lunch.”

Just as I was dishing up the dessert, Angus called. “Some of the guys are going over to play football on the lawn in front of the legislature,” he said.

“Is one of those guys you?”

He laughed. “Well, yeah, Mum. Why else would I call? Anyway, Leah wants to know if it’s okay for her to take Taylor over to her house to have tea with her Aunt Slava.”

“I guess so,” I said. “Have you met Leah’s aunt?”

“Yeah. She’s about a hundred years old, but she’s cool.”

“That’s certainly a ringing endorsement.”

“Whatever,” said my son. “I’ll be home at the usual time.”

After we’d eaten, Ed started gathering his books together for his 12:30 class. “Dynamite crême brulée, Jo. Jill’s loss is my gain.”

“That’ll teach her to go to Toronto,” I said. “Actually, I’m just relieved she was well enough to go.”

Ed looked at me anxiously. “Was she ill?”

“No, worse than that. She was mugged the other night. That’s why I made the crême brulée. Her jaw was bothering her.”

“My God, that’s terrible. You never think of that happening to someone you know. Did the police catch the mugger?”

“I don’t know any of the details. I haven’t seen Jill. My daughter went over there Sunday night. Mieka said Jill was pretty banged up, but when I talked to her on the phone, she seemed to be in good spirits.”

“So she
is
all right?”

“She must be if she’s well enough to travel. Didn’t she say anything when she called?”

“Just that she was in a rush.” He leaned towards me, his moon face creased with concern. “Joanne, Jill’s a kind of hero to me. The truth is she saved my life once – at least the part of my life that I value the most.”

It was a line that cried out for elaboration. Ed didn’t offer any, but his obvious affection for Jill gave me the opening I needed.

“Jill’s a hero to a lot of people,” I said. “This shouldn’t be happening to her.”

“You mean the mugging.”

“If it was a mugging.” I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Ed, I haven’t said anything to anyone about this, but I’m not sure I buy the story that Jill was attacked by a stranger. Since I started doing the political panel, I’ve walked through that parking lot every Saturday night. It’s a safe area: a lot of security lights and a lot of traffic. Nationtv vans are in and out of there all the time. Another thing – Jill would fight the good fight for a story, but I’ve never known anyone who’s as indifferent about possessions as she is. If someone tried to take her purse, she wouldn’t have turned a hair.”

Ed gave me a searching look. “What do you think happened?”

“I think it was Tom,” I said.

“You think he hit her?”

“I think it’s possible,” I said. “And as soon as Jill gets back, I’m going to talk to her. I won’t let her put me off, Ed. Unless she can convince me that I’m way off base about this, and Tom is innocent, I’m going to go to the police.”

Without a word, Ed picked up his books and moved heavily towards the door.

“Will you be in tomorrow?” I asked.

Ed looked at me oddly. “I don’t know,” he said. Then he was gone.

I thought about the afternoon ahead. Angus and Taylor were accounted for, so it was a good chance to get some marking done. I tried, but it was a profitless exercise. All I could think about was Jill. When I realized that I’d read an entire essay without retaining even the faintest hint of its content, I decided to go home. On my way out of the office I spotted the dishes I’d borrowed from the Faculty Club; I dropped them into a plastic grocery bag and headed out.