The Devil's in the Details (28 page)

As we turned the corner, I saw the one thing I didn't want to. Rooflights flashing. City of Gatineau police, rather than Ottawa. But then, that's the thing about a Canada-wide warrant. Everybody gets in on the fun.

Gussie and I turned down the first alley and got as far away as we could. To add to my crimes, I ditched the plastic bag in a nearby dumpster.

Five minutes later, we were blending in with the tourists at the Museum of Civilization. I got Youssef on the phone and asked to be picked up.

“Akbar wasn't all that happy about you,” Youssef said.

“What is this, a popularity contest? I suppose he didn't mention the tip. Fine, I'll call someone else.”

“Nothing to worry about. Akbar's a bit touchy, but he's off duty now. Now, it's my cousin Faroud.”

“Thanks.”

He hadn't asked about the dog. Good.

In the five minutes it took Faroud to show up, I had figured out where I was going next. If the cops had arrested Elaine at Maisie's, then the Pathfinder was probably still in the parking lot. I was banking on finding the spare keys.

My nagging worry was, how did the police know to look at Alvin's place? Had one of my family members squealed? I found that hard to believe. Had the police interviewed Alvin and Mrs. P. and broken through their defenses? Maybe Elaine
had fingered them; there's often a bit of tension there. I discounted that idea. Elaine would have her fingernails pulled out before she'd give the police any useful information. General principles.

Faroud, when he showed up, didn't blink at Gussie. He had the Holly Cole
CD
playing. That meant no pesky radio bulletins to give him ideas. It was a short drive back to the market. I was still fishing around in the backpack for my cash when we got there.

“Not that it's my business, miss,” he said, “but you should do something about that dog's diet.”

“Really? You a vet?”

He didn't like that. I saw him narrow his eyes at me through the rear view mirror. “No, I am not a veterinarian, but I do have a functioning nose.”

“Sorry. You're right. It's a problem.”

I removed my red sunglasses and kept digging for money. It was a bit hard to locate specific items with all those multiple images. Eventually, I fished out a ten-dollar bill and thrust it at him.

“You need a receipt?” he said.

“No, and keep the change.” I said. The sooner I got out of the cab and into the Pathfinder, the better.

He turned around and looked straight at me. “Are you all right?”

“Of course, I'm all right,” I said, with remarkable dignity for a person dressed as Captain Canada with the world's stinkiest dog as sidekick.

“One of your pupils is quite dilated. I think you should seek medical attention. Would you like me to drive you to a hospital?”

“You a doctor?”

“Yes, in fact, I am. Maybe not in this country, but with
eight years of training and solid post-grad work too. Good idea to listen to me.”

“Thanks. I'll go to the walk-in clinic.”

“No. Go straight to Emergency. You probably need a
CAT
scan. I'll take you if you want. On the house.”

“Used to be everyone was a comedian. Now everyone's a doctor.”

That didn't go down well. “Perhaps you should show a bit of respect,” he said with a flash of anger in his dark eyes.

“With all due respect, I think you should mind your own business.”

Okay, so that was rude of me, and the guy was just being a compassionate and competent human being, but hospitals are always crawling with cops, and they'd be on the lookout.

I felt Faroud's black eyes on me as I rounded the corner. I looked back to see if he could see me head into the parking garage. But it looked like the coast was clear.

What is it about these garages? They're so disorienting. Even without a concussion, how does anyone find their car, figure how to pay the parking and then work their way out of the maze? To make matters worse, the evening light was starting to dim.

Eventually, I spotted the Pathfinder. Dusty as ever. I made a couple of guesses where the spare keys might be. No luck under the driver's door. No luck on the underside of the front bumper. When I tried the rear bumper, I hit the jackpot. That Elaine. Good thing she had insurance.

The next challenge was using the automated payment system to get my exit ticket. Elaine had left the ticket in the Pathfinder, which you're not supposed to do. I blessed her.

Just to be safe, I bent down to the garage floor surface and picked up enough grit and dirt to smear the license plates. Not to be obvious, just enough to obscure the numbers. Paranoia, a person could get used to it.

For a few minutes, I sat in the Pathfinder and tried to concentrate, and to see without all the extra images. I used the time to call Mombourquette. Why should he miss out on all the fun?

“Lennie! I hope I didn't call you in from the garden, but . . .”

“This is a dangerous game you're playing. Have you lost your mind, Camilla?”

“Why are you yelling? I thought we were buddies now.”

“There's a Canada-wide warrant for your arrest, and everyone is worried sick. Your sisters had to take Valium.”

“Really? That's probably good for them.”

“Can you be serious? They're afraid the shock will kill your father.”

That was hitting below the belt. “You tell them, Lennie, to make damn sure he doesn't find out. He's eighty-one years old, and quite deaf, and if they have half a brain in total, they'll leave him at the cottage with a keeper but no radio.”

“I think that's what happened. They're afraid he'll find out somehow.”

“Maybe they should give him credit for not believing this crap.”

“That you're wanted in the killings of Laura Brown and Chelsea O'Keefe?”

“My father will not believe that.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Do my sisters believe it? Do you believe it?”

“Of course, they don't. And I don't either.”

“Well then.”

“They're out combing the hospital emergency rooms and looking in ditches in case you have died of your head injury.”

“I'm not in the hospital, and I'm not in a ditch, and I didn't kill anyone. How's that for cheerful news?”

I must have been yelling, because the woman getting into the next car jumped. That was all I needed, alarmed witnesses who might tune into the news as soon as they got into their vehicles. I rolled down the window. “Sorry to startle you,” I said. “Bad reception in here. Yelling doesn't help.” I shook the cellphone.

She slammed her door. All four of her lock buttons went down.

Mombourquette said something.

“What, Leonard? Sorry, I missed that.”

“Running away adds to the offense. No one who knows you would believe you killed anyone.”

“Maybe someone at the Office of the Crown Prosecutor.”

“Even there, they're just going on the current evidence, and I guess it's pretty compelling. But that will get sorted out. Isn't that what you've been telling me? That I'll be vindicated? Now I'm telling you the same thing.”

“Compelling evidence? How can it be compelling, if I didn't do it?”

“Apparently, they have witnesses and tips. Conn is working to find out.”

“What witnesses? Besides the bartender, there are others? Who?”

“If I did know, I wouldn't tell you, because you'd be on their doorsteps five minutes later, and then you'd get harassment and threatening a witness added to the charges . . .”

“Look here, Lennie . . .”

“And, the big thing is, they found Laura Brown's car in the parking lot behind the Department of Justice.”

“That's great.”

“It's not great. They found your jacket in it.”

“They couldn't have.”

“Jean jacket with butterflies. Something you were seen to be wearing after Laura died. Which would mean you had her car.”

“Someone planted it.”

“Of course. When these charges are found to be false, you'll still have to deal with the fleeing arrest.”

“Well, how can I flee if I don't know there's a warrant for me?”

“It's all over the media, for God's sake.”

“I'm out and about, and I just haven't heard it.”

“You just heard it from me.”

“You're such a kidder, Lennie, who could believe such a crazy story?”

“Right. They'll laugh you out of bail court. Get a better story.”

“Which reminds me, that's why I called. Elaine is being held. She wanted me to call the
WAVE
lawyer. I couldn't reach her. She could end up spending the night behind bars, because no one knows she's there.”

“If you're asking what I think, I'd rather stick pins in my eyes.”

“That's too bad, because she thinks the world of you.”

“This is just a diversionary tactic on your part, Camilla. I hope you realize that I can see right through it.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” In truth, I didn't.

“Tell you what. If I see what can be done to get this woman legal counsel, will you refrain from doing any more stupid things?”

“Sure.”

I didn't see anything stupid about finding Bianca Celestri.

The conversation with Mombourquette gave me an adrenaline boost. I felt much better as I eased the Pathfinder out of the parking spot. I adjusted the rearview mirror. How did Elaine ever see out at that angle? In the mirror, I noticed a woman waving her arms and running after me.

Her hair was in disarray, and she appeared to be screaming. She banged on the rear window of the Pathfinder. My job is helping others, and I was not without sympathy for someone with obvious mental problems. But as a fleeing suspected felon, I couldn't do anything for her.

I accelerated away to the exit, slipped my paid ticket in the machine and turned from the garage into the heavy weekend traffic on William Street. Ten feet from the garage exit, a uniform with a cup of Tim Hortons in his hand was walking towards an idling cruiser. He didn't see me, because he was engaged in a lively discussion with a pair of working girls. I figured he'd take care of the deranged woman when he spotted her. That shouldn't take long, because she was running out the exit toward him at that moment.

I rounded the corner and slipped into the flow towards King Edward. I heard sirens in the distance. I turned on the
CBC
half hour news to see if there were any developments on
the me front.

“Police have issued a Canada-wide warrant for Ottawa lawyer Camilla MacPhee in connection with two recent murders. MacPhee is wanted for questioning in connection with the deaths of forty-eight-year-old Laura Lynette Brown and twenty-six-year-old Chelsea O'Keefe. MacPhee is no stranger to the police and was involved at the scene of a fatal shootout during the recent Bluesfest.

“Further charges against MacPhee are expected shortly. She is described as mid-thirties, dark-haired and stocky, and is considered dangerous.”

I was so stunned I had to pull the Pathfinder off the road and park until I caught my breath. I didn't know what was worse, stocky or dangerous.

I hoped that Bianca Celestri hadn't been listening.

Bianca lived in a tasteful condo development across the street from the gated grounds of Rideau Hall, the Governor General's residence. To add to the tone, unless I missed my guess, a former Prime Minister resided just down the street.

Cars lined the street, and parking was obviously hard to find. Just as I arrived, a silver Neon pulled out, and I slid the much larger Pathfinder into the spot. I may have bumped the car behind me, I wasn't sure. Give me a small car any time.

The Pathfinder seemed to have heated up again, and I didn't want to take a chance on leaving Gussie. When I rang the buzzer at number two, I told him to be quiet. One good thing, if you were in the entryway at this particular unit, you weren't visible from any of the windows. There were attractive planters filled with large shrubs. It was dark enough that no
one could really see you unless they were walking right by. It had the added advantages of being cool and sheltered. I mentioned this to Gussie. He stretched out and laid his head on his paws. He looked at me with big, sad eyes.