The Icing on the Corpse (18 page)

Alvin was breathing hard. “You'd better turn on your radio.”

“What for?”

“Never mind. Make sure you catch the next local news.”

“Does it have to do with bridesmaid's dresses?”

“No.”

“Winterlude and goddam skating?”

“No.”

“Good, I'll listen then.”

Maybe I should have done that. Instead I rolled over on the sofa and snored open-mouthed to a rerun of
Due South.

“Camilla!”

Damn. I knew I shouldn't have answered. But Edwina's call came in the middle of a dream and I reached out for Paul Gross and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“I think you know.”

“I don't know.”

“It's hardly fair.”

“I'm sure it isn't.”

“What a disgrace. How will Daddy hold his head up in St. Jim's Parish if you get disbarred?”

“What?”

“Can't you say anything more intelligent than
what?
When I think about all your education, well, it makes me wonder. I can imagine how embarrassed Alexa and Conn will be with you in the spotlight right before the wedding.”

“What?”

“Oh, Camilla, for God's sake.” She slammed down the receiver. It saved me from saying “what” again.

Which was good.

I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my scratched face, fed Mrs. P.'s pet and turned on CBC radio in time to get the local highlights.

“In the latest bizarre twist in the Ralph Benning murder case, suspect Elaine Ekstein told reporters she has dismissed her defence lawyer. Ekstein alleges she never engaged the services of Camilla MacPhee, controversial Ottawa legal activist. According to Ekstein, MacPhee, Executive Director of the advocacy group, Justice for Victims, has misrepresented the relationship between them. Ekstein, who is refusing to submit to psychiatric testing, has been denied bail and has yet to undergo a preliminary hearing in the macabre death of Ralph Benning earlier this week, is now represented by Sam Berelson. Assistant Crown Attorney Mia Reilly confirmed that her office plans to lodge a formal complaint against MacPhee with the Law Society of Upper Canada tomorrow.”

“What?” I said.

E
ven though it was Saturday, Alvin and I both found ourselves at our desks in the office by mid-morning. I was doing my best to be in a good mood despite the cost of the rental car I'd picked up. Alvin was doing his best to be Alvin, with the help of Jimmy Buffett and some Pina Colada mix.

“Of course, I haven't forgotten,” I told P. J. when he called. “I've already been practicing.”

“Excellent. The little guys are bouncing they're so excited.”

“Oh, good.”

“And they don't even realize how newsworthy you are.”

“So this outing won't compromise your journalistic integrity?”

“Nope. I'm excited. I figure it should be worth a couple of first-rate quotes.”

I planned to give him a couple of quotes all right.

Alvin managed to mind his own business at his own desk throughout that conversation. To do him credit, he hadn't mentioned my swollen nose and scraped face that morning either.

“Well,” I said, after I hung up, “what did you find out?”

Of course, with Alvin, you have to cool your jets while he gets to the point. That's the price you pay for service. He twirled the little umbrella in his drink. “Well, it's not that easy.”

“No, I suppose it isn't.” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, which wasn't that easy either. Since the incident in the snowbank, every part of my body that didn't ache or sting, throbbed.

“A lot of this information is not in the public domain.”

“Right.”

“I think you'll be pleased.”

“Excellent. As long as I'm pleased in this lifetime.”

Mistake. I bit my tongue. After nearly a year, I should know certain types of remarks merely slow him down.

“You could have done it yourself. Would have been a lot quicker.”

“Okay, Alvin, I'll say ‘uncle' at this point. We both know it wouldn't have been faster if I'd done it. Mainly because I tend not to remove materials from libraries without authorization and…what?”

Someone screamed. Alvin screamed too. I whirled around, expecting a lunatic with a raised axe.

“Sorry.” Alvin pointed at Alexa. “She startled me.”

“She startled
you?.
The two of you nearly gave me a stroke. Alexa, do you think it's a good idea to show up here and start screaming?”

“My God, your face.”

Alexa was framed in the door, clutching her heart and breathing fast. Behind her loomed Conn McCracken.

“Yes, well. You should see the other guy.”

She pursed her lips. “I wasn't expecting…what happened?”

I pointed to McCracken. “Why don't you ask him?”

“What do you mean, ask me?”

“What
does
she mean, Conn?”

“I don't know what she means.”

Oh, good. McCracken got to experience one of those dangerous looks.

Alvin said, “She means he knows what happened.”

“What do you know about Camilla's facial injuries, Connor?”

Ooh.
Con-nor.
That sounded ominous.

“I don't know anything about them.”

“If you say so,” Alvin said.

“I
do
say so.” McCracken seemed even closer to a stroke than I had been. All in all, a bad health day for both of us.

I was feeling big-hearted. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

McCracken's face deepened from red to purple, not a good sign.

“Why would you need the benefit of the doubt, Connor?”

“I don't. I didn't ask for the benefit of the doubt. Christ, I have no idea how Camilla got her face messed up.”

Alexa stiffened.

“I'm sorry,” McCracken said.

“Fine.”

“Sorry, lamb chop. I didn't mean to swear. And I wasn't swearing at you anyway. They took me by surprise. And…

“No problem,” Alexa said.

As far as I could tell, there was a problem all right. And it was McCracken's. Alexa had her back to him now. And a nice straight back it was too. “Camilla, what happened to you?”

“Someone attacked me on the canal last night.”

She gasped. You have to hand it to my sisters, they gasp beautifully, which adds drama to any situation.

“Who did?”

“I don't know.”

“What happened?”

“Someone tripped me and knocked me into a snowbank. Then they made sure my head was buried nice and deep untill lost consciousness.”

“What did the police say? Conn didn't even mention it.” She didn't look at him.

“I didn't know. First I heard about it. Do you think I wouldn't tell you, lamb chop?”

“I didn't report it.” What the hell, why not bail the guy out.

“What? Why not?” My turn to get the look from Alexa.

“Because I'm persona non grata there, and I've been told to stay away from them. They wouldn't believe me.”

“Persona not grata? Why? That doesn't make sense. They're the police and you're a citizen, even if you are remarkably difficult. They have to be available to you. Don't they?”

“You'll have to ask
them
, Alexa.”

“I can't believe Connor wouldn't have mentioned you were persona non grata. Perhaps he didn't know.”

I heard him say something naughty under his breath.

“It's not possible, is it, Connor?” I think she could tell by his expression it was possible all right. And Conn McCracken was about to find out first hand about persona non grata.

“Oh.” Lindsay turned white as soon as she opened the door. But I was getting used to the effect I had on people.

“It's not what you think.” I stepped past her into the marble foyer. Lucky for me, there was no sign of Merv.

She looked worse than I did. But her bruises were of the mind. Her eyes seemed sunken and dull, her skin more like putty than silk. For once, she wasn't wearing perfume.

“What's wrong?” One look told me I'd put my foot in it.

“His memorial service will be tomorrow.”

His memorial service. That knocked the breath out of me. There was bound to be a public ceremony for Rina Benning and I would plan to attend that. But who in their right mind would go to a memorial service for a monster like Ralph Benning? His own mother would probably boycott it. If he ever had a mother. Which reminded me, where was Mrs. P. with the information about the people in Benning's life?

I waited for an invitation to come into the living room. It didn't come. I took my boots off anyway.

“What happened to you?” Lindsay asked.

I slipped my parka into the closet. “An accident.”

She smiled, turned and headed into the living room, “That's what we all say. Did you walk into a door? Trip on the stairs?”

I followed. “I shot head first into a snowbank.”

“Oh yes, happens a lot.” She sank into the sofa and stared at me.

I flushed. “This time it did.”

“Who am I to argue?” she said.

“Well, I guess you're right. It was a form of battering.”

“I wouldn't have taken you for the type. But Elaine says there's no type. We're all vulnerable.”

“Yes, well, I didn't do anything to…” I bit my tongue.

She raised an eyebrow. “Cause it?”

“No. Yes. I mean, it wasn't personal.”

“Um-humm.”

This time I didn't have a snappy comeback. Of course it was personal. No wonder she had that sad little smile. If a person pushes you into a snowbank, sticks their knees into your back and makes sure you can't get your face out, what else could it be but personal?

“You're right. Pretty goddam personal all right.”

“Yes.” Her dreamy expression returned. The one the boys seem to be susceptible to.

“You look tired. Can I make us a pot of coffee? I know my way around here.”

She frowned. “Coffee? Go ahead. You really think I look tired?”

Oops. Hadn't my sisters always told me you never tell a woman she looks tired unless you want to ruin her day? I did not want to ruin Lindsay's day. “Not tired, just oh, I don't know, distracted, perhaps. I'll put the coffee on. Be right back.”

Distracted? More like devastated. Anemic. Or even haunted. I had a better cover when I popped back in with two mugs of coffee five minutes later. “Maybe you're worried about that memorial service.”

“A person doesn't get over a bad relationship just because the partner dies, you know.”

Lindsay was susceptible to Benning. She had to deal with the death of hope, and the survival of love, fascination and desire. And I still looked with longing at Paul's photo on the wall of Justice for Victims. “Don't I know it.”

And Benning, what a residue of slime. Even dead, he sparked powerful emotions. I hated him. If I felt his presence, imagine what it would be like for Lindsay who had loved and feared him.

“Here's what happened to me. I was minding my own business, skating on the canal, on my way over to see you when a guy hit me behind the knees and knocked me into a snowbank. Then he knelt on my back and pushed me into the snow and waited until I lost consciousness. I assume at that point he left.”

“My God, you don't know who?”

“No idea. But logic tells me he's connected with this situation.”

“But who? Do you think it's because you were coming here?”

“No.”

“What if it was? How do you know?”

“No one knew where I was headed. I didn't know myself until I put on my skates and headed down the canal.”

“That's one thing to be thankful for, I guess.”

“But it had to do with my investigation. I rattled a few cages.”

“You must have rattled the wrong one.”

“Or the right one. I made someone nervous.”

She nibbled a polished nail. “Camilla, maybe you should be the one who's nervous.”

“Not my style.”

“You could have died.”

“Probably not. Thousands of people throng the canal. It would be hard to miss a pair of legs sticking out of a snowbank for any length of time.”

“But it wouldn't take long. He was prepared to let you die.”

I don't know why this was such a shock to me. I hadn't thought it through logically. I'd thought about being attacked but not about being murdered. Lindsay was right. This upped the ante. Whoever slammed me into that snowbank had been prepared to let me die. And I knew it had to be the same person who killed Benning.

“You're right,” I said, after a minute, feeling stupid.

“Did you see anyone?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the moment just before my headlong plunge. There had been something familiar. Someone I recognized? Or something. But what?

“No, I didn't see anyone. I think I know who was behind it in general terms, and you can help.”

“What do you mean, in general terms?”

“I seem to have created a real buzz with the police. I think that's the secret. I dropped in and made waves before the attack and I think that triggered it. I need to know who might have been Ralph Benning's police contact.”

She hesitated. “We don't know for sure that anyone helped him.”

“Fair enough. But I need to know who he dealt with.”

“Well, he'd been arrested so many times. He knew all the cops.”

I was getting impatient, and I let it show.

“Come on, Lindsay, get off the pot. There must have been one in particular. I need to know his name.”

I didn't expect her to laugh. “What's so funny?”

“I don't know the name. Ralph never told me. But based on what he implied, you're not searching for
his
name. You're looking for
hers”