The Noon God (8 page)

“
Oh, Uncle Will, how could something like this happen?”

“
I don’t know, my d
ear.”

“
What are we going to do?”

“
We’re just going to have to take it one day at a time, one step at a time, Lucy. Don’t try to think too far ahead right now. First we have to help the police. Then we have to notify Caesar’s agent and he’ll send out a press release. Then we have to get through the funeral. One step at a time…” He climbed into the back seat and rested his hand on her shoulder. To me he said, “Did you get some sleep?”

“
A little.” A picture of Ben flashed into my mind and again I felt a lump in my throat.

“
OK, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Detective Phoebe Manor was punctual. We agreed to allow her to speak with Lucy alone on her promise if Lucy became too distraught then one or both of us could join her. I couldn’t see any harm in letting her question Lucy and my instincts told me it would look bad to make things difficult for the police. They had a job to do. They had to find Daddy’s killer.

I expected the interview to be brief – after all, what could Lucy possibly tell them? Still, I was surprised to see the Detective approach us only minutes after the questioning began.

“
Ms. Fortune,” she said, “could you please join us?”

“
Certainly,” I said.

Uncle Willard was as surprised as I was. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Can my Uncle come as well?” I asked. There is safety in numbers. Whatever hoops Lucy was being asked to jump through, Will and I were there for her.

“
That should be OK,” she said.

We found Lucy sitting alone in the interview room. Her eyes were red and she was clutching a tissue. She was unable to speak. I sat down beside her and let her bury her face in my shoulder while she cried. We sat like that for a moment while Detective Manor looked on. Uncle Willard sat on the other side of Lucy and fidgeted.

“
We were just talking about that last night when you had dinner with your father.” The Detective’s voice was soft and low. I let it soothe my frayed nerves while Lucy struggled with her composure.

Turning to me Detective Manor said, “I was asking your sister about your father’s state of mind that evening. In your statement you indicated your father was in a good mood. You said he had just finished his latest manuscript and was anxious for you to read it. Your sister remembers your father was angry with her.” She left that statement lying on the table, waiting for me to comment.

“
Yes,” I said. I had forgotten their dispute. It was such a minor thing and so ordinary. “Daddy was angry for a few minutes. It wasn’t a big thing, really. He was disappointed with Lucy’s latest report card.”

“
Her grades had dropped?”

“
No. They were the same as always. Daddy was pressing for improvement. That’s why he sent Lucy to private school in Montreal. He was hoping the new environment would stimulate her.”

“
I shouldn’t have argued with him,” Lucy said through her tears. “It was the last time I spoke with him.”

“
Now, Lucy,” Uncle Willard said, “you’re going to have to put that out of your mind. Your father knew how much you loved him. Every child has the occasional argument with his or her parents. The timing was unfortunate, but that’s part of life. Think back to what a wonderful daughter you were. You always tried your best. Caesar knew that.”

“
I’ll try,” she sniffed.

The Detective picked up her pen, recalling our attention with the subtle movement.

“
Was your father still angry when you went to bed?” she asked.

“
He was fine when I left the house,” I said.

Detective Manor ignored me and waited for Lucy’s reply.

“
He wanted me to move back home,” she said. “I didn’t want to. I have new friends at school. I’m tired of moving around.”

“
Did you continue to argue?”

“
No. I just went to bed.” I knew what Lucy meant. She never argued with Daddy. If he told her to move back home, that’s what she would do.

“
Did you see your father in the morning?”

“
No. I had breakfast alone. He was already gone.”

“
What time did you get up?”

“
Seven-thirty.”

“
And he’d already left the house? Was that unusual?”

“
No,” Lucy and I answered together.

“
He met with students and faculty in the mornings before lectures began,” I explained. “It was normal for him to leave the house early, especially on a Monday.”

“
Why Monday?”

“
He liked to get outstanding issues resolved early in the week. Then he could focus on his work with fewer distractions.”

The Detective nodded and turned back to Lucy.

“
Did you know of anyone who was angry with your father?” she asked gently.

“
No. Daddy was good to everyone. I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt him.”

Uncle Willard and I exchanged glances. I quickly looked at my hands, but not before the Detective had caught our looks.

“
You don’t agree?” she asked me.

“
Daddy wasn’t perfect,” I said. “Lucy tends to see the good in everyone.”

“
What was imperfect about him?”

“
He was a successful man,” I said. “Success brings its own problems. He had a strong ego. Sometimes he could make other people feel less successful.”

“
Was he arrogant?”

I hesitated. Of course he’d been arrogant. He was after all J. Caesar Fortune. How could I explain the simple truth without being disloyal? He was my father. Was he arrogant? Yes. Chauvinistic? Yes. Could he sometimes be a total pain in the ass? Most assuredly. Still, he was my father. People have a responsibility for their own emotional well being. If anyone felt cowed or shadowed by my father’s prowess, well, he couldn’t help that. Could he?

“
Ms. Fortune?”

“
Yes. I would say at times he could be arrogant. Most people in the literary world can be accused of that particular failing.”

“
Did his arrogance create enemies for him?”

“
It’s possible. I just don’t know. I don’t remember him speaking badly of anyone.”

Recently, I added mentally.

~~

Ben and I married during my last year of teacher’s college. Ben wanted a simple ceremony, a handful of family members and friends in a neighbourhood church followed by dinner at one of the faculty buildings. Of course Daddy wouldn’t hear of it. Nothing but the best would do for his Desdemona. I tried to argue with him, but the truth of the matter is my head was turned by the imagery of the fairy-tale wedding. Daddy compiled a list of guests, including professors and literary people and their families. Ben and I said “I do” at Trinity Church and sat down to a catered feast for three hundred, followed by dancing that went on till well past midnight.

I still have the dress and it still fits. The memories, though, no longer fit my mind the way they once did. Once I was able to remember only the lace and the flowers, the lovely words and the music. Once I was able to close my eyes and see Ben’s loving face, hear his promises of ‘forever’.

Now all I see is what I should have seen all along – Daddy’s will, Daddy’s way. It was there in the polite guests, most of whom Ben had never met. It was there in the dresses worn by Gail and Lucy, yellow chiffon flowing all around his lesser daughters as they chafed beside the one in white.

At dinner that night he spoke his toast to his daughter the bride in front of three hundred admiring guests, all hanging on his every word. My eyes happened upon Gail during Daddy’s speech and I was annoyed to see her barely contained boredom. She rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers, finally breaking from the head table and scampering off to the ladies’ room.

Daddy paused mid-sentence and watched Gail leave the room, then continued as if nothing had happened. Ben took my hand and I pushed the unpleasant thought from my mind.

After Daddy’s speech we heard from the best man, Ben’s brother. Gail’s seat remained noticeably empty and Lucy began to fidget. Finally, I excused myself and scampered towards the ladies’ room, hoping desperately I would not find what I was afraid I would.

As I passed the coatroom I heard Daddy’s voice. He must have gone ahead to find Gail.

“
For God’s sake,” he said, “why tonight?”

“
Why not?” Gail hissed.

“
Have you no decency? What about your sister? You can’t go back out there… like this.”

“
Why, Daddy? My dress is fine. My hair is fine. I can fix my makeup.”

“
That’s enough,” I said, stomping into the coatroom. “Gail, what have you done?”

“
A pinch of coke.”

“
Go and lie down in the lounge,” I said.

“
But I’ll miss dinner. I’ll miss the speeches.”

“
I don’t want you there.” That was all I said. I turned on my heel and floated back to the bridal table on my white dress, Daddy not far behind me. The rest of the night passed in a blur of unreality. My ears roared with a deafening surf and colours swirled around my eyes. I knew I’d done something very wrong, crossed some invisible line I would never be able to uncross. Again and again I scanned the room, hoping to see a thin girl in a puffy yellow dress, but the only yellow dress in the room was Lucy’s. Gail was gone.

Ben and I went on our honeymoon. I was worried. I imagined Gail filling her body with chemicals and Daddy unable or unwilling to control her. Ben was patient. He understood my feelings of guilt and responsibility. I called Daddy. He assured me everything was all right. Gail was back on the program. Her behaviour on my wedding night had been nothing more than a lapse.

I couldn’t explain my anxiety as we landed at Pearson International. I should have been relaxed and happy, but I wrung my hands as the limo brought us closer to Daddy’s house. Ben and I had purchased a condo, but the deal didn’t close for another week, so we would be staying with Daddy in the meantime.

As we neared the house my disquiet became a nagging buzz in my brain. I felt as though my nose would bleed. Finally the car stopped and Ben hopped out to help with the luggage. I climbed out of the car and followed my new husband up the stairs to my father’s door. I had to lean on Ben as I turned the key in the lock. The door opened and there were Gail and Lucy, holding hands in the foyer. Lucy laughed and ran forward to throw her arms around my waist. Gail held back. She appeared to be sober. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her hair. We stood like that for what seemed like forever, just three sisters sharing a moment of unabashed love.

I’ll never forget that moment.

It was almost noon by the time we finished with Detective Manor. As expected, Lucy wasn’t able to shed any light on Daddy’s murder. The ordeal took a heavy toll on her. Her eyes were red as we climbed into my car. Uncle Willard suggested lunch and Lucy perked up. I pointed the car towards a diner I liked and we drove in silence.

We settled into a booth and placed our orders. I didn’t feel like speaking. I didn’t feel like I had anything else to give.

Uncle Willard fussed with his walking stick across the table from us.

“
What about the funeral?” he asked.

“
I haven’t made the arrangements yet,” I said. “When we get home I’m going to call Daddy’s agent. The press release will go out today. Now it’s official all family members have been spoken to, the police can tip the media. I want to get through to Andy before he hears it from someone else.”

“
When will the body be released?”

“
Either Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m going to plan the service for Friday. There’s no point kidding ourselves. This is going to be a circus. We might as well try to get some rest between now and then.”

“
The funeral home won’t be big enough,” Willard said.

“
I’m thinking of Trinity Church for the actual service. The entire U. of T. faculty will be there. Plus we can expect academics from New York, L.A. and Montreal.”

“
And the fans…” Lucy said. “They all loved Daddy.”

“
Are you OK?” I asked.

“
I don’t know, Mona. The police think Daddy knew his killer. The Detective kept asking me over and over whether I saw him that morning. I got the feeling she was watching me.”

“
That’s nonsense,” Uncle Willard said. He took her hand across the table and patted it. “The police know it was a random attack. They think it was a junkie or a mugging.”

“
Detective Manor said they couldn’t understand how he managed to be shot from such a close range. She said it seemed as if he knew his killer. Like it was someone he trusted enough to get close to.”

“
He was taken by surprise,” I said. “I think he never even knew anyone was there. Don’t worry, Lucy. No one could ever believe you had anything to do with it.”

“
I hope they catch the bastard,” she whispered.

“
I wouldn’t count on it,” I said.

“That’s right,” Uncle Willard agreed. “This kind of crime is hard to solve. Unless the guy confesses or brags to a buddy who turns him in, it’s already over. They said the gun was a Jennings Nine, a Saturday night special. It’ll be almost impossible to trace. These are throwaway weapons. Even in Canada it isn’t hard to buy them. And they get passed around – ‘recycled’.” I remembered Uncle Willard’s love interest was a journalist in Toronto. His speciality was urban crime.