12 Rose Street (35 page)

Luke met me at the door. The first thing that struck me about the interior of North House was its simple, uncluttered beauty. The lighting was muted and the place was blessedly silent. I instinctively lowered my voice. “How is she tonight?” I said.

“Looking forward to seeing you,” Luke said. He half turned and gestured towards the hallway. “And here she is.”

Jill’s walk was shuffling. She had always been proud of her body and had favoured outfits that showcased it. That night, for the first time in my memory, she was wearing sweatpants.

She reached out to embrace me, then thought better of it and dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink – tea or something stronger?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “But I’d like to see your new digs.”

I followed her down the hall to her room. Like the rest of the facility, Jill’s room was plain and welcoming: a double bed covered with a handsome quilt, brass lamps that pooled warm light on the night tables, a chaise longue, and, by the window, a table and two chairs.

I gestured to the chaise longue. “Why don’t you stretch out there?”

“Thanks,” Jill said. “I’m still a little unsteady. She lowered herself carefully onto the chaise longue and sighed. “That’s better,” she said. “How’s the election going?”

“We’ll know tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

“Subject closed?”

“Subject closed,” I said. “Let’s talk about you. Whitman’s seems like a good place to get your life back on an even keel.”

Jill’s laugh was short and sharp. “I’m not sure that’s possible. You’re right about this being a great haven, but at some point I’m going to have to rejoin the world.”

“Take your time,” I said. “When you’re ready, there are many possibilities awaiting you. The Graham Meighen story is going to be huge, especially because Debbie now has information that will tie Meighen to Cronus’s murder. When that story goes to air, you’ll show that little putz at Nation
TV
what real journalism is. And there are all those questions about 12 Rose Street that are still to be answered. You can have a good life, Jill.”

“But it will be a life without you and your kids. Because of me, they lost their father for the second time. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“They’ll be all right. They
were
hurt, but they’re adults. They have lives of their own. Ultimately, I think Ian will just become a distant memory for them.”

“Is that how it will be for you?”

I shrugged. “I’m working on it. For the first few days after Slater broke the news, I felt like the walking dead. I went through the motions, but I was in a daze. Finally, I realized that people counted on me. I had to smarten up, so I threw out the one picture I had kept of Ian and me.”

“Goodbye to all that?” Jill said.

“Yes, and so far, it seems to be working.”

Jill’s face was ineffably sad. “I’ll never be able to say goodbye.”

“You have to,” I said. “Ian never deserved a woman as fine as you.”

“How can you say that after everything I did?”

“I can say it because it’s true.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Don’t get up. I can see myself out. We’ll have more time to talk after the election’s over.”

The first thing I did on E-Day after peeing, splashing my face, brushing my teeth, and kissing my husband was to go out on our terrace and check the weather. After that I rummaged through my closet till I found my favourite running pants and the T-shirt I was wearing the day I met Zack. When I was dressed, I read Zack’s, Brock’s, and my horoscopes. If the entrails of a sacrificed animal had been handy, I would have attempted to divine the state of its liver.

Brock was already waiting when the dogs and I reached the stoop of our building. I stepped out into a perfect October day – still, sunny, blue-skied, and crisp but not cold. Brock took both dogs’ leashes so I could stretch to get the tightness out of my calves and Achilles tendons. After I’d bounced on my toes a few times, Brock handed me Willie’s leash. That’s when I noticed Brock was wearing a black braided leather necklace.

“I like the leather,” I said.

“I’ve had it since high school. It’s always brought me luck when I wrote exams.”

I unzipped my jacket and pointed to my T-shirt. “I was wearing this the first time I met Zack. I’d say that was lucky.”

“So would I.” Brock laughed. “Here we are, two rational human beings with our talismans.”

“It’s E-Day. Everybody’s superstitious,” I said. “Let’s go.”

No black cats crossed our path and no ladders blocked our way. It was a good run. My cell was vibrating when we got back at the condo. There was a text from Zack:
Ask Brock to come up with you.

I handed Brock my cell so he could read the message. “What’s up?” he said.

“Beats me,” I said. “Let’s hope Zack didn’t break a mirror.”

When we came into the condo, Zack was sitting at the butcher-block table; the dogs’ water dishes were filled, and there was a pitcher of water from the refrigerator on the counter for Brock and me. I poured us each a glass, then Brock and I joined Zack. “So what’s the big news,” I said.

“Graham Meighen is dead,” Zack said.

“Suicide?” Brock asked.

“Apparently natural causes,” Zack said. “Debbie called about ten minutes ago. According to Debbie, Meighen had a heart attack last night. The police were nearing the end of another round of interrogation when it happened. They were pressing Meighen hard on the Cronus case. They’d caught him in some inconsistencies, and Meighen was in the process of reaming them out when he collapsed. The cops rushed him to the hospital. The medical people did what they could, but Meighen died about an hour ago.”

Brock drained his water glass. “It’s hard to know how to react.”

I thought of what Meighen had to done to Jill’s body. “It’s not hard for me,” I said. “Zack, did Debbie tell you when
the police will be releasing the news about Meighen’s death to the media?”

“No, but it’ll be soon. Are you concerned about Jill?”

“Yes. She shouldn’t get this from the media,” I said. “I’ll call Luke and tell him I’m on my way.”

Jill was waiting in the living room for me. She was on the couch talking with a man who looked to be in his early eighties. A copy of Colm Tóibín’s
The Master
was on the end table beside him. He and Jill were having coffee and talking about Tóibín and Henry James. Jill introduced us. His name was Russell Exton. Jill promised him she’d be back to discuss the novel later, and then the two of us walked down the hall to her room.

She closed the door but stood with her back against it, facing me. “Something’s happened,” she said.

“Graham Meighen died this morning,” I said. “It was a heart attack.”

Her skin paled. “You’d better sit down,” I said. I helped her to the chaise longue.

“I’m all right. It’s just a shock.” Her voice was flat. “I’ve had a few of those lately.”

“Take some deep breaths,” I said.

Before long, the colour began to return to Jill’s cheeks. “Did he suffer?” she asked finally.

“I don’t know,” I said.

For a moment we were both silent and then I asked the question that had been dogging me. “Jill, you knew the kind of man Graham Meighen was. Why did you get involved with him?”

Her tone was sardonic. “Why did I get involved with any of the men I’ve been with? When my one and only marriage ended, I went to a shrink. I wanted to know why, when I
finally decided to marry, I chose a man whom I knew was incapable of love. She told me I was punishing myself for my affair with Ian. And, Jo, she told me something else. She told me that the reason I was so obsessed with having Bryn as my daughter was because of my guilt about the abortion.”

“Did you buy that?”

“I don’t know. I may be a fallen-away Catholic, but I’ve always had an endless supply of guilt.” Jill flexed her long, freckled, ringless fingers. “Do you want to hear something weird?” she said. “There was a point in my relationship with Graham when I really believed he was Mr. Right.”

I was incredulous. “How could that happen?”

“As soon as you told me that Slater Doyle had played you the tape of Ian and me, I knew the shining new life I was planning to build with you and your family would never happen. I’ve never felt so alone. But Graham was there, attentive, flattering, and apparently willing to pick up the pieces.” Jill closed her eyes. “And you know the rest. My knight in shining armour turned out to be a monster who tried to kill me.”

“Because he realized you’d given me the information about his phone call with Slater Doyle.”

Jill frowned. “That’s what I thought at first. Everything happened so fast, but I’ve had time to think since I got here. Jo, Graham never even mentioned his phone call with Slater Doyle. All he cared about was getting my phone itself. I didn’t have it. After I talked to you I went for a run in Victoria Park. When I couldn’t find the phone in my hotel room, I assumed I’d lost it on my run. I was on my way out the door to retrace my steps when Graham burst in demanding that I hand over my phone. I told him I didn’t have it, and I was just about to go looking for it. That’s when he went crazy. He said he knew I’d taken pictures. Apparently there’s a surveillance camera in the master
bedroom and he’d seen me taking pictures of the safe and of the papers on his desk. At that point, he was raving, and I just wanted to get away from him. I apologized. I told him he could come with me to the park and when I found my camera, I’d hand it over to him. That’s when he began choking me.

“I was sure I was dying. I must have passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was naked, and he was raping me. He’d removed his hands from my throat. I was starved for oxygen. When he saw I was able to gasp for air, he choked me again. I don’t know how long it went on. Finally, I just slid into unconsciousness. That’s when he must have … done whatever he did to me.”

Jill was shaking violently. I put my arms around her shoulders and held her until her body calmed. “It’s over,” I said finally. “Graham Meighen will never hurt you or anyone else again. You won’t have to testify because there won’t be a trial. What Graham Meighen did to you is proof that he was a very sick man who killed once and tried to kill again. He had to be stopped. You have your story, Jill.”

“The story isn’t finished,” Jill said. “Jo, my phone’s over on the nightstand. Someone found it in Vic Park. The phone wasn’t locked so they checked my email address and got in touch with Nation
TV
. Luke picked the phone up for me this afternoon. Until now, I didn’t want to look at it – too many memories.”

“But you’re ready now,” I said.

Jill nodded, then, heads touching, she and I looked through the pictures she’d taken at Graham’s home on Thanksgiving night. Several photos were of slips of paper she’d taken from a drawer in Graham’s desk. She said they didn’t make any sense – they were just numbers jotted down. But she’d noticed that one of the number sequences was repeated many times.

Jill indicated it with her fingertip. “Obviously those numbers were much on Graham’s mind. Can you see any significance there?”

“Yes,” I said. “These are the numbers Cronus sent with the photo of him, Zack and Brock. The afternoon before he died, Cronus asked me to take a buddy shot of him with Zack and Brock. I have no idea to whom he sent the picture, but when he tapped out the message he said a series of numbers out loud: “2-5-1-0-0-6. I assumed it was all one number, but Graham’s written the figures so they’re spaced. 25 10 06. Jill, we have to call Debbie Haczkewicz with this.”

“Give me one day,” Jill said. “This is my story. Let me try to work it out. Besides, it’s E-Day. You have a thousand things to do, and Graham’s dead. The police won’t be able to move as quickly on this as I can, and if I can get solid proof of what was really going on between Graham and Ridgeway, we might be able to sway some late voters. Give me one day to help before you go to the police.”

I stood. “All right, but first thing tomorrow morning, we’re going to Debbie.”

On E-Day, time stands still. After months in which every minute is accounted for, there is suddenly nothing to do but wait. When I got back to the condo, I was dreading the long day ahead, but Zack and Taylor were at the breakfast table, seemingly oblivious to the larger world.

“Dad just made the best breakfast,” Taylor said. “I love Boursin au poivre in anything, but it is soooooo good in scrambled eggs.”

Zack pushed his chair back from the table. “I can make you some eggs,” he said.

“Thanks, but my stomach’s a little queasy. I’ll just have tea and toast.”

Zack frowned. “Are you coming down with something?”

“No. Telling Jill about Graham was rough, and the news seemed to jolt her memory about the assault. Anyway, I’m not sick. It’s just nerves.”

“After you have your toast, let’s go for a swim. That always relaxes you.”

“This really is a banner day,” I said. “That’s the first time you’ve ever actually volunteered to go for a swim.”

“I just want to watch you get into your bathing suit.”

Taylor coughed theatrically. “I’m still here, you know.”

“Duly noted,” Zack said. “Do you want a ride to school?”

Taylor’s lips twitched with mischief. “Are you trying to get me out of the way?”

“No flies on you,” Zack said. “But the drive to school is a time-sensitive offer, and the clock is ticking.”

Zack and I were in our robes and ready to go down to the pool when Milo called from downstairs.

Zack uttered his favourite expletive, but he buzzed Milo in. As always, Milo came in drumming, but when he saw that we were in our swimming gear, he stopped in his tracks. “You guys are going swimming,” he said.

“If you want to talk, we can wait,” Zack said amiably.

“Actually, what I’d like to do is have a swim,” Milo said. “I don’t suppose you have a spare suit around here.”

Zack shot me a warning look, but I ignored him. “I’ll get you one of Angus’s,” I said.

I found Milo a suit, a robe, and a towel, and told him the pool was in the basement, and we’d meet him there. When we got into the elevator Zack was still grumbling. “This swim was supposed to relax you,” he said. “Nobody can relax around Milo.”