The Icing on the Corpse (16 page)

“But what?”

“Oh, Camilla, how can you believe Elaine didn't kill him?”

Merv stood up. “Okay. Show's over.”

It seemed like a good time to leave anyway. I'd reached Lindsay. Now all I had to do was wait.

Don't ask me what librarians see in Alvin. I don't want to know how he gets them to eat out of his hand. There's very little he can't find out in a reference department. Even when he shouldn't be able to.

As soon as I get within sniffing distance of a reference desk, new rules spring out of the ground like tulips. Eyebrows shoot up. Questions are asked. Tempers flare. And I have never ripped covers from periodicals or removed entire volumes from tax-supported institutions without authorization.

But I don't want to complain.

“Present for you,” Alvin said, on his return to Justice for Victims.

He dropped a batch of magazines on the desk in front of me and flicked the light layer of snow from his Day-Glo orange lei onto the floor. “I think you'll find these interesting.”

“What are they?”

“They're scientific journals. That's what you asked for.”

“Do I see the stamp of the University of Ottawa Science Library?”

“So?”

“Stealing journals from a library is pretty low, Alvin.”

“Like you wouldn't do it.”

“Take them back.”

“Relax, Camilla, just read these articles. They're about the effects of temperature on human tissue. They detail how long it would take a body to freeze under the ice at a given external temperature. I believe you sent me to find out. Am I wrong?”

“No, you're not. But why did you have to steal the articles, Alvin?”

His nose quivered. “What do you mean,
steal?.
I don't steal. I borrowed them. Lord thundering Jesus, they're from a library.”

“I don't know why you couldn't just photocopy them. You're not even a student there.”

“Do you want this stuff or not?”

“Why can't you just search on the internet like everybody else?”

Alvin snorted. “Thanks, Camilla, there's lots of great stuff on the net, but I like my info vetted by an expert who can show me the scientifically sound research. Lot of nutcases post so-called information out there. My way saves time and gets a quality product. We have high stakes here.”

I hate to let him win. Especially if he's right. I eyed the stack with distaste.

“Camilla, just read these. Then if it makes you happy, I'll slip them back into the stacks again when I go to see Angela.”

Angela. That would be the latest librarian.

What could I say? I needed to know when Ralph Benning had been iced before I could begin to clear Elaine. I'd also need to find an expert witness on the effect of freezing on bodies if the case ever came to trial.

“Alvin, I have places to go and people to pester, so here's the drill. You, that means
you
by way of clarification, can sit here and go through these articles and then when you finish,
you
, you remember who that is, can tell
me
what you find out. And then
you
can get back to the library ASAP. With the files the cops have on you, if they get wind of this latest caper, it could be the final straw.”

I didn't look back as I left the office.

Lucky me. Alexa had a floral emergency, which meant our shopping trip to Holt's could wait until the next day. I headed home.

My luck held in the corridor of the 16th floor when Mrs. Parnell stuck her nose out the door, blew a stream of Benson and Hedges exhaust in my direction and claimed to be too busy to chat. “Lots of fine stuff on the web, Ms. MacPhee, most intriguing. We'll get Benning's cohorts pinned down, and then we will pick them off, one by one.”

“Good. But you can't use the internet to tell you if he had a pile of cash stashed or if he pushed a high-level criminal too far.” Of course, I was talking to her door.

Never mind. Mrs. Parnell's little calico cat was waiting optimistically in my apartment. She made no demands. She was always happy to curl up on the sofa and purr along with a friend. She didn't mind if the friend made a few phone calls.

I left a message for P.J., a reminder message to Dr. Varty, the pathologist at the hospital, followed by a call to Conn McCracken. I tried to get a message to Elaine at the RDC. Finally, I called my sisters to say I'd be out all evening and not to bother phoning.

Then I flicked on the television, ate a can of mushroom soup and crashed on the sofa until the sun came up.

There's no life like it.

I
woke up in a good mood, which doesn't happen often. In honour of the occasion, I made three resolutions. First, not to let the wedding preparations annoy me; second, to keep a cool head about the Elaine situation, and third, to relax a bit until it was time to resume the hunt for the elusive bridesmaid's dress. I shared a pleasant breakfast with Mrs. Parnell's cat and felt quite mellow by the time I had finished my toast and she had polished off her tuna.

I checked the thermometer on my balcony and was surprised to see the temperature had shot up to plus three. Five minutes later, I realized it was probably as a result of heat generated by the headline in the City section of the
Ottawa Citizen.
It's always a mistake to read the paper before leaving the house.

This time P. J. answered his cellphone on the first ring. “Took you long enough, Tiger.”

“You little creep, what kind of friend are you?”

“Hey, what's your problem? I'm doing my job. Same as you. Nothing to do with friendship.”

“What friendship? Your nasty headline today.
Ice Queen puts chill on hotheaded defence lawyer.
What kind of crap is that?”

“Hey, I just file the stories, I don't write the headlines, although I did think that one was cool.”

“Enough with the jokes. You think this is funny for Elaine?”

“Here's another tip for you. You might not think it's funny, but Elaine will be having the time of her life. You know she hired Berelson. Then she had him call a press conference to announce she'd fired you. And you're wondering what kind of friend I am.”

“What a shitty sight to start the day.”

“Of course it was. Don't take it personally; it's what I do, as the scorpion said to the frog. So tell me, froggie, ready to go skating on Sunday? Two little guys will be heartbroken if you don't.”

Why do I always have to be the bad guy? “I wouldn't disappoint the kids. But you better watch your back.”

“It's good news,” Alexa said. “Elaine was always difficult. Being fired frees you for better activities, like skating with your friend's nephews.”

She dabbed a little L'air du temps behind her ears and smiled out the window. Alexa's not the most subtle person in the world. I knew she meant it freed me to be more cooperative about the wedding. And I intended to be. We headed off for Holt's at around ten in a mood of cautious optimism.

“Well, of course, poor Elaine is an absolute
saint.
She was horrified by this man, and she knew she had to stop him before he killed anyone else.” Vanessa Gross-Davies might have been Chair of the Board of WAVE and a half-dozen other key groups, but she managed to look like she stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. That's one of the advantages of marrying the CEO of a leading high-tech company.

It didn't make it any more of a treat running into her in the handbag section of Holt Renfrew. I can't say she was glad to see me. “Great,” I said. “I sure would want to have you in my corner, Vanessa, if push came to shove.”

Vanessa curved her lips into an expression that, on someone else, might have been a smile. A layer of frost formed on the tip of my nose. Alexa appeared to be fascinated by a display of Italian leather bags.

“Well, Camilla, I am in Elaine's corner. I'm there for her whenever she needs me. Which I understand from the news last night and today is more than we can say for you.”

“Right. As you said, Elaine has snapped. She won't talk to me, but if you're her friend, you must ask her to change her plea.”

“Jack says Elaine played this one like a pro. The media spin is fabulous. It draws attention to the plight of battered women and the need for the rest of society to fight back.”

“Tell Jack volunteering to be the defendant at a murder trial is more perilous than floating your first IPO. It's one thing to lose your shirt, it's another to lose your freedom. She needs people to talk sense into her, not encourage her in this ill-advised behaviour.”

“That may be, but she doesn't need
you.
WAVE has arranged
competent
representation for her.”

I didn't bite. “Don't get me wrong—I'm glad you and Jack and the board at WAVE are there for Elaine. She needs all the support she can get here. What did you think of her terrible situation at the Regional Detention Centre? Did you try to talk to her through the shield? They put in the Plexiglas after one of the visitors broke down the bars with a sledgehammer. Still, it breaks your heart, doesn't it?”

The eyes hardened. “I haven't been able to visit her yet.”

I bet you haven't, I thought. Ms. Gross-Davies would never park her cashmere bum next to a bunch of strung-out girlfriends and runny-nosed toddlers screaming for the old man behind the unbreakable window.

“Ah, well, the pressures of a full schedule, I'm sure.”

“We
are having a fundraiser dinner for Elaine tonight, and that has taken a good deal of my time. And now if you'll excuse me, I am busy.”

“Great, I'm so relieved. A new handbag is exactly what Elaine needs.”

“We will do our best for Elaine. She has the finest legal representation, and she'll be out in no time.”

“You're funding her legal expenses?”

“We have secured Mr. Sam Berelson as her defence lawyer.”

I already knew that. I also knew Berelson didn't make the front pages regularly by being second-rate. He didn't come free either.

“Great. Elaine would never divert funds from WAVE to cover her own legal expenses, so it's wonderful you're paying for Berelson.” I reached over and clasped her hand. “Most generous. I am impressed.”

She did her best to yank herself free, but I held tight. “Thank you. Thank you,” I said.

“Someone call security!”

On the other side of the counter, an elegant saleswoman reached for the phone.

“Let go of me. And leave me alone. Elaine wants you to stay away from her and her friends too.”

“Ah, yes,” I gave her one final squeeze, “I bet she does.”

After that, I did my best to find a dress.

For some reason, Alexa kept checking over her shoulder the entire time we spent in the store. We both found it hard to concentrate. When we left, still dressless, she didn't even whimper. I suggested, “Tomorrow will be better.”

No argument.

When the going gets tough, the tough get sneaky. Daddy would have been proud of me. In late afternoon, I hit police headquarters. “I'm here to see Conn McCracken in Major Crimes.” I told the officer at the second floor desk outside the Criminal Investigation Division. “He's about to become my brother-in-law.”

The officer yawned. I guess that didn't impress him much. Two minutes later, after a quick call from the desk, McCracken lumbered through the door and looked at me in a sadder but wiser way.

“Good time of the year to work indoors,” I said as we hiked back down a narrow hall.

I thought I heard a grunt. After that, I kept my mouth shut until I had plunked on the plastic visitor's chair in front of his desk. I smiled at him over the stacks of files in buff folders. I had to hand it to him, he kept an orderly workspace, which couldn't have been easy in an office that made Justice for Victims look spacious. An orderly desk was sign of a good mind, if you believed my father. I always hoped it wasn't true.

An 8 x 10 photo of Alexa smiled down at us from on top of the four-drawer filing cabinet. McCracken settled his big body into his chair. “I'm glad you came by, Camilla.”

“What?” I had to stop sounding like a dope, but every sentence I heard lately sounded more peculiar than the last.

“There's a switch. Most people seem to remember pressing business elsewhere as soon as they see my face.”

“I wonder why.”

“No idea.”

“Anyway. I needed to talk to you.”

“Excellent, because I needed to talk to you too.”

“Me first.”

“Hey, go ahead. It's your turf.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward. “Alexa is a wonderful person.”

“Yes.”

“She'd never hurt anyone.”

“Right.”

“She cares a lot about you.”

“Is there a point?”

“Please try to stop making her crazy. This wedding ceremony is so important to her. It would make a big difference if you would cooperate and not fight with the entire world. Just get the dress and be pleasant. Just ten days, Camilla, then the ceremony's over and you can be your miserable self.”

I'd never heard McCracken talk so much in the eight months since I'd first met him. Maybe the shock had brought it on.

“I'm doing my best. In fact, we've already been shopping today.”

I didn't like the expression on his face. “Don't try shitting me, Camilla. I heard about that experience. Alexa doesn't need that kind of stress every step of the way. The least you could do is cooperate.”

“Not a problem.”

His eyes narrowed. “I wish I could believe you.”

I looked around. “Where's Mombourquette?”

“Finished for the day. He's headed for a workout.”

“So, what's new on the Benning investigation? Did you find the van Benning was transported in? Forensic would be able to confirm pretty quickly if it was the one.”

“Maybe you don't know it, Camilla, but we're short of resources. We can't waste time. Do you think we pursue cases that are solved?”

“Solved? By solved do you mean arresting a wacky woman with a lot more heart than brains when she pretends to have committed a crime? When you find that van you won't find any trace of Elaine in it. I know it and so do you.”

“I'll tell you something you should know. Word has come down you're persona non grata and members of the force are to watch out for you.”

“Persona non grata? Why?”

“Because you've been a pain in the ass of the brass.”

“Well, I don't know, Conn, it seems to me I'm the same as always. Except for you and Mombourquette, I'm not in touch with any cops. So whose ass have I pained?”

“I don't know. But the message has been clear. Whoever felt the pain, really felt it.”

“So why talk to me?”

“Why not? I got my thirty years in. I can retire any time, take it easy, and enjoy my new life. If I get suspended or disciplined, it won't matter much. Give me a bit more time for the wedding. But you won't find other officers feel the same way.”

“Tell me, Conn, this so-called ‘word' you're prepared to ignore, you don't find it revealing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Benning obviously had a well-placed contact who helped him get off more than once. Do you think he broke out this last time without inside backing? It's not possible. It had to be a connection in the police. When Benning went right over the edge, he became an incredible liability for his inside man. I thought it was some undercover cop but this message points up the ladder to someone with clout. Someone who would need to get Ralph Benning out of the way before word about the relationship leaked out. The rest of you are dancing to his tune. So who's behind the message, Conn?”