The Devil's in the Details (22 page)

I hustled to the phone and dialled. Oddly enough, considering it was early morning, the line was busy.

I tried again after I'd showered and dressed. “Hang on, Gussie,” I said. “This is important. And it won't take long.”

This time Jasmine answered on the first ring.

“Jasmine? It's Camilla MacPhee. I know it's early, and I apologize for that. I realize you are working a couple of jobs, and I was afraid I'd miss you. I need to talk about Laura's luncheon companions. Can we meet somewhere? Anywhere but Maisie's. It's really urgent.”

Jasmine let out a long, eerie wail. “She's dead.”

I kept my cool and spoke slowly. “Of course, she's dead. That's why I have to talk to you. I need to find out about a woman called Bianca. I must get in touch with her. Can I meet you before you go into work today?”

There was such a quaver in her voice, I couldn't make out what she was saying.

“Sorry, Jasmine, could you repeat that?”

“Chelsea. My friend.”

“What about her?”

“She's dead.”

“Chelsea's dead?” I sank back onto the sofa, my throat constricted. “I can't believe it. I was just talking to her last night. What happened?”

It took Jasmine a couple of tries to explain. “The police said she was walking over the bridge to Hull, and she jumped or fell into the river. They asked if she might have been on drugs or been drunk or something. Can you believe that?”

“I had a fall myself, and the police took that exact attitude.”

“Anything close to the market, and they act like everyone's a criminal or a druggie.”

“But Chelsea had more than a few drinks. I know because we were together at Legal Beagle.”

Jasmine stopped sobbing. A steely note entered her voice. I thought I detected the lawyer she was going to become. “Chelsea could hold her liquor better than anyone I ever met.”

“I'm sorry. I'm not saying she was drunk, but she might have been vulnerable to someone. Let down her guard. Maybe someone tried to rob her.” All I heard were sobs at the other end.

I waited for Jasmine to calm herself. “I'm sorry about your friend.”

My heart was thumping. Chelsea had been alive and lively, laughing and looking after number one just a few hours earlier. I'd hardly known her, and she'd done her best to take advantage of me in her own high-spirited way. She'd known something about the women who lunched with Laura. Now she was dead. There just had to be some connection.

“I know this is tough for you, but where can we meet?” I said.

“I don't want to see anyone. Leave me alone.”

“Be careful who you talk to, Jasmine,” I shouted.

I hate dial tones.

Was it my imagination, or was it getting harder to stay alive in safe little old Ottawa?

“Of course, I'm all right, Leonard. You've only been gone forty-five minutes. Hey, what's in the box?”

The cat, who had been snoozing languidly on the sofa, woke up and licked her lips.

Mombourquette's nose twitched. All four of them did, in fact. He had developed a distinct silvery shimmer. It was quite appealing, in a disturbing way. Perhaps the appeal was heightened by the fact he'd brought two large double doubles from Tim Hortons. The box also held an intriguing selection of doughnuts. Even if you divided by four, it was a feast. My symptoms seemed to be coming back, but I figured those puppies would fix them. This new thing about being polite to each other certainly had side benefits.

“Sorry, I couldn't find anything more nutritious.”

“Are you kidding? This is great. Thanks.”

He frowned. “You look quite pale.”

“I'm okay, but I have something to tell you,” I said, peering into the jumbo box of doughnuts. “I've got some bad news and some good news. What do you want first?”

“You'd better have breakfast first.”

“Excellent point, Leonard. I could use a doughnut to steady myself. This beats muesli any day. Speaking of news, any luck in the market?”

“I checked around for your stuff. Sorry, there was no sign of anything. And Maisie's is still closed. I got in touch with the guys on patrol. They were just going off shift.”

“And they hadn't seen anything?”

“They said there was no box or anything else near you when they arrived. They looked, because apparently you were making quite the fuss.”

“I didn't think they took me seriously.”

“Probably didn't, but they told me they checked anyway. I believe them.”

“Someone must have stolen it.”

“Doesn't make sense. I can understand why someone took your new jacket. If they'd also taken a watch, I could understand. A piece of jewellery, sure.
ID
or credit cards, no question. Drugs. Car keys. Even your shoes. Fair game with someone passed out. Even your rings.”

I stared at my wedding band and engagement ring. “God, someone would take those?”

“Happens.”

“Well, that proves my point, Leonard. Why the photos and the will? Doesn't that tell us something?”

“No street person or druggie or casual thief is going to leave your
ID
and prescription painkillers and take a bunch of photos.”

“Exactly. But someone did. Don't you wonder why?”

Not one of the shimmering Mombourquettes made eye contact with me.

I said, “It's a setback, but the will's on file, and Elaine has tons of pictures. I'll call her back.”

Mombourquette sighed. “I wish that was all you had to worry about, Camilla.”

I refuse to worry about anything,” I said, “until I finish my coffee and doughnut. I'm thinking about the double chocolate glaze and the honey almond next. Unless you have your eye on them.”

“Good thinking,” he said. “The problems aren't going anywhere. I'll have the maple glaze and the Boston cream.”

“You got Boston cream? Boston cream is my favourite.”

Mrs. Parnell's cat had been positioned on the table next to Mombourquette, regarding him speculatively. Despite the presence of doughnuts, Gussie had dozed through everything, farting with contentment.

After we'd eaten, I said, “Let's take Gussie for his walk. I promised him. It's a matter of some urgency.”

Gussie woke up and barked as if to prove the point. For added effect, the neighbour next door banged on the wall. The little calico cat licked her chops. Mombourquette headed for the door.

When Gussie and I caught up to him at the elevator, I said, “Not that I'm not ready for whatever it is, but everything in its own time. My rule is, bad news first, good news second.”

“No argument here.”

“When we get to the park, I'll give you my good news,” I panted.

That worked too. There was no holding Gussie back, and we were in the park in what seemed like seconds.

“Here's the best thing, Leonard. I remembered what Constantinople meant.”

“Okay, and what does it mean?”

“Contrary to interpretation, I wasn't shouting out nonsense because of my head injury.”

“So what was it?”

“Laura's home town. I've been trying to remember the name ever since this whole thing started. No, not in the flower bed, Gussie.”

Mombourquette seemed underwhelmed by the news.

I said, “Now that I know where she was from, I should be able to find someone who knew her.”

“Huh.”

“It could be the break we need. You got an Ontario road atlas in your car?”

“I better tell you what I found out.”

“Sure, it's your turn, Leonard.”

“Don't interrupt until I've finished talking. Okay, Camilla?”

“Won't say a word.” This newly polite relationship with Mombourquette had something going for it. “Bring it on.”

For some reason, Mombourquette kept staring at his flip-flops. “Here goes.”

“I'm ready,” I said.

“Maybe not. That girl you met with last night? Chelsea? I'm afraid she's dead.”

“I know. That's the bad news I had to tell you. I found out from Jasmine while you were out.”

“You promised you wouldn't interrupt.”

“It wasn't exactly a promise.”

“Better let me finish. I heard from a solid source that foul play might be involved.”

“Jasmine said they told her Chelsea probably fell or jumped. But people don't fall off the bridge, and Chelsea sure didn't seem suicidal. I think it's connected with Laura. That makes four deaths in four months. I better talk to Jasmine fast. Hey, I have an idea. You could talk to someone in Major Crimes and fill them in on the connected deaths, and that wouldn't be investigating, but it could stop whoever is doing these things before there's another murder. Like maybe Jasmine or this Bianca. I need to find her too and warn her.”

“Listen to me. This is off the record. A guy in Major Crimes told me when I was picking up the stuff at Tims.”

“My apologies. Go ahead.”

“They got a tip about Chelsea last night.”

“That's great. Does it give them a suspect to focus on?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“They're not thinking robbery or sexual assault, are they?”

“She had several hundred dollars on her when they pulled her out of the river. So I'd say no to robbery. No one mentioned sexual assault, so I'm guessing there were no indications.”

“I told you it had to do with Laura. Did anyone see her walking with the suspect? Or getting into a car?”

Mombourquette cleared his throat.

Gussie tugged at his leash.

“Yeah, they got a detailed description.”

“Well, that's good.”

“Not really. A waiter from Legal Beagle got in touch. Apparently, you were seen having a big argument with her in the bar. Then you raced out and chased her down the street, yelling.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Not all that long before you collapsed, but it was enough time for Chelsea to get killed.”

“But that's crazy. I didn't have anything to do with it. She was meeting someone. She was talking on the phone with the person. We just need to find out who she was talking to. They can get the cellphone record. Can you set them straight?”

“Try to understand, it was coffee shop talk. People know we have a connection, some of them blame you for what happened last summer. They thought I'd be pleased to hear it, I guess.”

“You told them I didn't do it, right?”

“I said I didn't believe it, but they've got witnesses, and they want to talk to you. I'm surprised they're not here already.”

“What do you mean, witnesses?”

“Apparently there was more than one tip. You were seen near the Interprovincial Bridge with this girl.”

“But I never went near the bridge.”

“One of them described your jean jacket with butterflies on the back.”

“That's my missing jacket. Oh my God. Do they know you took me home?”

“They do. And we're both in deep shit.”

I said, “Okay, Leonard. So what's your good news?”

“I'm afraid there is none.”

A few minutes later, a grim-faced Mombourquette headed off to see if he could pry more information out of some friendly soul on the force. Mrs. Parnell's cat looked disappointed.

He paused at the door. “You going to be all right?”

“Of course, Leonard.”

“You won't go anywhere?”

“I have no car, no money, no cash card, and no desire to connect with my relatives. Mrs. Parnell and Alvin are off in a balloon. Where could I go?”

“I'll check in as soon as I have news.”

I wasn't exactly lying. I didn't say I wouldn't go anywhere. I did have the
VISA
card I keep for travel, and I didn't mention that either. Elaine's name never came up. I didn't plan to sit on my bum and wait for the police to bang on the door. Better Mombourquette didn't know that. For his own mental health.