The Gifted (22 page)

Lena’s voice was bright. “You can come back.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said.

I walked him to the door. “Any time you want to talk, I’m here.”

Riel’s smile was poignant. “There’s so much I need to say.” He took a step towards me. “Joanne, I’ve dug myself into a hole, and I don’t know how to climb out.”

“Could you talk to Ernest?”

“I’ve started to call Ernest almost as many times as I’ve started to call Mieka,” Riel said. “I never have the guts to get to that last digit.” He gave me a small wave. “See you around.”

Zack picked up Madeleine from school, then they swung by Luther to get Taylor. Mieka had managed to get away from work early, so they all came up in the elevator together.
Lena claimed them immediately. The minute everybody had their coats off, Lena led them into the living room to admire the puzzle.

Zack, Mieka, and I were having tea and the girls were at the butcher-block table having their after-school snacks when Taylor finally came back from looking at the puzzle. She was thoughtful. “That’s a cool puzzle,” she said. “And it’s really cool that it came today.” She poured herself a glass of milk and sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “Darrell texted me this morning, and I called him when I was on my lunch break. The man who bid against Dad for
Two Painters
is offering me a commission. I said I’d talk to you about it.”

“What do you want to do?” I said.

“I wasn’t sure, and then I saw Lena’s puzzle, and I had an idea about something I might do with Julian.”

I wanted to take Taylor in my arms and plead with her not to involve Julian, but I forced myself to remain silent and continue chopping vegetables.

Zack made a quicker recovery. “Julian in the rain forest?” he asked.

“Julian in the rain forest surrounded by creatures that are endangered, dangerous, and beautiful,” Taylor said. “I think I could do something good.”

“So you want to accept the commission,” Zack said.

“Yes. I really do,” Taylor said, and I could feel her excitement. “Dad, would you mind talking to Darrell about the money?”

“Not at all.”

“But I’d like to be there when you talk to him. I’m going to need to learn the business side of this.” Taylor whipped out her iPhone. “I’d better text Julian and see if he’s interested. We’re having dinner together tomorrow night, so we can talk about it then.” She took a large sip of milk.

I knew Zack was no happier about this development than I was, but he didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re having dinner with Julian tomorrow night, I guess he won’t be able to go to the Pats game with me.”

Taylor did a double take, then she laughed, sputtering her milk. “As if …” she said. “Sorry, Dad, just the idea of Julian at a hockey game.”

Taylor’s iPhone beeped. She read her message. “Julian says, ‘Go for it.’ ”

“In that case, we’ll call Darrell after supper,” Zack said. “Right now, I have a suggestion. Nobody wants to wreck Lena’s puzzle. Why don’t we load up our plates, go into the living room, and watch
Charlotte’s Web
?”

Like all good lawyers, and actors, Zack had mastered the art of the cool vibe, but as he wheeled his chair into place I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders. It had been another tough day. I drew a chair up beside him and put my lips to his ear. “I’ll go to the Pats game with you.” He gave my hand a grateful squeeze, leaned over, and whispered, “I don’t actually have tickets,” then turned back to the opening credits.

Every adult in the room had private worries. Mieka was concerned about Riel. Zack was burdened with the knowledge that Vince’s situation was worsening, and he and I were both apprehensive about Taylor’s relationship with Julian. But the story of Wilbur and Charlotte worked its magic. When Wilbur carried home Charlotte’s magnum opus, the sac of eggs she laid at the fair before dying, we were all in tears.

CHAPTER
10

After Mieka and the girls left, Zack and Taylor called Darrell Bell. When Zack told me the size of the commission Cole Dimitroff was proposing, my jaw dropped.

“Did Taylor seem fazed by Mr. Dimitroff’s offer?”

“Not a bit,” Zack said. “All she said was that she and Julian better get started.”

I sighed. “Not exactly the news I was hoping for.”

The day demanded a massage, and as soon as I poured the oil into my hand and began kneading Zack’s neck muscles, I knew I had my work cut out for me.

“Do you want to talk about the situation with Vince?” I said.

“Might as well,” Zack said. “I took your advice and asked Vince if he understood what Lauren meant when she referred to protecting him …”

I dug my fingers in more deeply. “And …”

“And I’m glad I asked. I wouldn’t want to get blindsided by this. According to Vince, on Sunday of the Remembrance Day weekend, Lauren got a call from a man telling her that he saw her driving her Land Rover erratically the night of
the auction. He said she ran a red and then hit a lamppost.”

“Hence the damage you noticed on the headlight when we picked up the car,” I said.

“Right. But the caller went on. He said a homeless guy was sleeping under the lamppost and the Land Rover ran over his leg. That the guy was okay but is going to need a lot of help …”

“So was the street person the one making the phone call?”

“No, the caller identified himself as ‘a friend of justice.’ Whoever it was muffled his voice. Lauren told Vince she couldn’t connect it with anyone she knew. The salient point is that the friend of justice asked for $20,000 to keep from going to the cops. But Vince is positive he hit a post, and that’s all. No matter how drunk he was, he couldn’t have missed running someone over.”

“How did this man know it was Lauren’s car?”

“Only one answer for that – he had to be someone who knew the Treadgolds well enough to know she usually drove the Rover.”

“Someone who knew them and was prepared to blackmail them.”

“So it would seem. Lauren agreed to pay the caller. He was going to pick up the money the next afternoon.”

“The day Lauren was murdered,” I said.

“Yes. But when Lauren and Vince had their confrontation, the friend of justice still hadn’t turned up. Lauren told Vince that if he agreed to a generous divorce settlement, she had the cash and was ready to pay the blackmailer. If Vince didn’t agree to alimony, she’d send the friend of justice to the police with the information that Vince had been driving her car – drunk – and she’d tell the cops how she got her black eye.”

“What did Vince do?”

“He caved,” Zack said. “He agreed to pay Lauren substantial alimony. If Lauren made good on her threat, Vince would be charged with assault and with leaving the scene of an accident. And that’s just for starters. He could lose his medical licence.”

I felt a chill. “That’s a pretty powerful motive for murder,” I said.

Zack ran his hand over his head. “Tell me something I don’t know. But it’s possible that the friend of justice killed Lauren. She could have reneged on their deal or he could have decided he wanted more money and she refused.”

“Was the cash in the house when the police arrived?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to call Debbie and see what’s shaking.”

“What about the fact that Lauren had the Land Rover repaired?”

“Not germane,” Zack said. “Vince didn’t learn about the repair until I told him about it. The only other people who know about the repair are you and me and I’m Vince’s lawyer.”

I pressed hard on the base of Zack’s spine and he groaned. “Don’t try to bully me,” I said.

“I’m not bullying you,” Zack said. “The repair really is not relevant. What matters are Vince’s actions the night of the art auction. He was drunk. He was driving recklessly. He honestly doesn’t remember hitting anything, but he knows he ran a red. Anyway, it scared him, and he parked the
SUV
and walked to the Senator. Somebody took the car for a joyride, and the next day Lauren picked up the car. End of story.”

I stopped massaging and sat back. “Zack, do you think Vince killed Lauren?”

“No. Debbie has the holy trinity in this one: means, motive, and opportunity, but that doesn’t make Vince guilty. I always try to put myself in the client’s place. Sometimes, I can actually feel that crazy anger clients must have felt when they
crossed the line. But when I put myself in Vince’s place, I don’t feel crazy anger. I’m a successful surgeon; I’m respected in the community; I was furious when I witnessed my wife having sex with another man; but I’m not really in love with her any more and I can afford the best divorce lawyer in the country. Yes, she’s blackmailing me about something I didn’t do, but if it comes out, I’ll fight it. I feel pretty much in control.”

“Vince wasn’t in control when he hit Lauren’s eye.”

“No, and he wasn’t in control the night of the art auction. But buying your wife a painting of her naked lover is a long way from killing her. In the end, Vince didn’t care enough about Lauren or the money she wanted to risk his life and career. And another thing. When a husband kills his wife, there’s almost always gratuitous violence. There are far more blows or wounds than were necessary to get the job done, and a signature wound. Often a husband severs his wife’s ring finger.”

I shuddered. “And Lauren died of a single blow to her temple.”

“Yes. My guess is that the murder wasn’t premeditated. I think the killer lost control, picked up the rock, hit Lauren once, and really connected. A crime of anger but not of passion. Anyway, if Vince is charged, he now has a defence team.” Zack picked up the bottle of massage oil. “Your turn, Ms. Shreve.”

“Let me give you a little more attention,” I said. “You’re still as tight as you were when we started.”

“Nope, this is a mutual massage. Fair’s fair. Off with your pyjama top.”

Zack’s hands were powerful, and as he kneaded the area between my neck and shoulders, my muscles began to unknot. “You handled the latest episode of life with Julian well,” I said.

Zack chuckled. “I’m glad Taylor thought so. What the hell are we going to do about that situation, Jo?”

“I don’t know. Taylor really wants to accept that commission, and she believes Julian is her muse – or whatever the male equivalent of a muse is.”

Zack ran his thumbs in circles down my spine. “I guess the male equivalent would be Apollo. He reigned over all nine muses.”

I turned my head. “You know the most surprising things,” I said.

“I wish I knew how to make Julian disappear. If he’s going to be Taylor’s Apollo, he’ll be here all the time.”

“That could be an advantage,” I said. “We’ll be able to keep an eye on him. I wish they were at least planning to have dinner here tomorrow, but Taylor says they’re going out.”

“And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Zack said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I’m too tired to think positively. Let’s hit the sack.”

The next morning when the dogs and I went up for our run around the roof garden, the city was shrouded in fog. I hadn’t thought much about the pathetic fallacy since high school, but given the number of things in our lives that were uncertain, it was difficult not to read significance into the morning’s weather.

Nothing in my own high school experience gave me insight into the push–pull that Taylor’s life had become. I’d read once that when an adolescent is close to her family, she has to find some way to justify the break she must make with them to become her own person. I had never been close to my mother, and my father died the year I graduated from high school. My break with my family had been effortless. When I moved from boarding school to university, the only change in my life had been my address.

The boys I dated in high school had been boys from other private schools who were like me: studious, nerdy, socially awkward. I was pretty enough to take to a dance or a party, I was a good listener, and I accepted wandering male adolescent hands as part of the rite of passage.

My parents had not loved me as Zack and I loved Taylor, and none of the nice interchangeable boys I dated had wanted from me what Julian wanted from our daughter. Julian had led us into uncharted territory, and I was desperate to find our way back to safety.

By the time the dogs and I finished our run, the fog was beginning to lift. As the familiar landmarks of our neighbourhood emerged and the lights of downtown became visible, I felt an unreasonable optimism. Taylor was, at heart, a loving and sensible girl. Everything in her history with me suggested that, ultimately, she would make the right choice.

When the dogs and I came back from our run, Zack was in his robe, making porridge.

“I’m starving,” I said. “Can you stand sitting next to me before I have a shower?”

Zack breathed deeply. “It will be pleasure. I get a contact high from your endorphin rush.”

We were just finishing breakfast when Zack got a phone call. He mouthed, “Debbie,” so I went to shower.

Zack was clearing the kitchen table when I came back.

I began rinsing the dishes. “Any news?” I asked.

“The police have been through the Treadgolds’ house with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. Debbie didn’t mention the money.”

“So the friend of justice did show up.”

“We live in hope,” Zack said.

It was a little after nine the next morning when Mieka brought Lena to Halifax Street. I had some errands to do that
I thought Lena would enjoy, and in my opinion, Lena had spent enough time indoors. Our first stop was Toys “R” Us. According to Mieka, Dino-Roars were going to be a hot ticket for Christmas and I didn’t want Zack to be disappointed if I couldn’t get one for him. Once I had the Dino-Roar in my shopping cart, Lena and I gave ourselves over to the pleasures of browsing.

Like all lucky browsers, Lena and I discovered some treasures. At seven, Madeleine had just embarked on chapter books, and I spotted a copy of Judy Blume’s
Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing
, a book that had been a favourite of my kids. Then since I was Christmas shopping, I bought the other three books in the series to put under the tree. Lena found a
Charlotte’s Web
jigsaw puzzle and I spotted a gorgeous on-sale book of photographs of the rain forest for Taylor. I doubled back to get another Dino-Roar as a gift from Zack for Margot’s baby, and we were done.