The Icing on the Corpse (5 page)

“Glad to hear it.”

“Listen, no one answers in your office. I tried your cellphone. Don't you ever pick up your messages? Is Lindsay all right?”

I filled her in on the situation, omitting Merv's reactions. She offered to drive me to the Leomont Building to get Alvin, to resolve any outstanding issues with the Mounties, starting with the Commissioner, and to make sure our lad was not traumatized.

“We have to wait until the police get here,” I said.

“That shouldn't take long. Poor Alvin. He has such a hard time.”

Once again, I bit my tongue.

I jumped when Merv soundlessly arrived behind me. “Good news item number one: she's sleeping,” he whispered.

I raised my eyebrows. Not because Lindsay could fall sleep—that was no surprise with her system clogged with sedatives—but there was just something about Merv tiptoeing around like a nervous auntie.

“Good news item number two: the Ottawa guys are here.” I followed him back through the living room to the front window. A cruiser, with two officers, was parked conspicuously in front of the townhouse. “There's another car in the back,” Merv said.

“They're taking it seriously. Usually it's one cop per cruiser.”

“They're taking it seriously all right. They did everything but run a DNA test on
me.
”

“But you're RCMP.”

“Jurisdictions, remember? No reason for a member of the force, even one on sick leave, to be here. They don't like weird stuff.”

“You'd think they'd be happy to have someone trained in security in the house looking out for Lindsay.”

“Yeah, yeah. They're cops, Camilla. They're never happy. But anyway, I passed the test. I don't hold out much hope for you, though.”

“Funny.”

Less than ten minutes later, when Elaine's SUV crested the snow bank in front of Lindsay's place, I forced myself to take a deep breath and head out. Elaine was in fine form, metres of tightly curled red hair sproinging out in all directions from under a fake leopard fez. Not an easy effect to carry off.

“I'll go in and see Lindsay first,” she said as I climbed into her SUV.

“She's out cold. Give her an hour or so.”

“Holy moly,” she said, “out cold. I don't blame her.”

“Drugs,” I said.

“What else is she going to do? Was she awake when you arrived?”

“Yes. Which reminds me, did she call you this morning and tell you about Benning?”

“No. The first I heard of it was Alvin's message. Who could believe that bastard's loose again?”

I must have had a look on my face.

“Come on, Camilla, don't start feeling guilty.”

“I don't know. If I'd done a better job on the brief to the Parole Board last spring, he wouldn't have been paroled and attacked his wife, and we wouldn't have this whole situation.”

“Get over it. Remember? You were caught up in a murder investigation. Benning's nothing but trouble and always has been. It's not you. It's not her. It's not the wife. It's him. Plain and simple.”

I gasped, less from self-insight than from the SUV spinning toward the canal as we made an illegal U-turn and didn't quite connect with the road.

“Don't be so jumpy,” Elaine said. “This guy's making you nuts.”

“Of course he is.” The little pine-tree deodorizers danced with each swerve Elaine made.

“But Merv will be a match for him.”

“I guess so.”

“I know so. Who'd argue with him? Didn't you tell me once he had special training when he was doing security stuff?”

“But he's nearly fifty years old, with a wonky gall bladder that acts up when he's under stress.”

“So what? Wasn't he a bodyguard for the Prime Minister?”

“That was then. This is now.”

“You don't lose that kind of training. Lindsay's in safe hands with Merv. Anyway, the police will pick Benning up any minute. Okay, we need to rescue Alvin.” She gunned the engine as we skidded along.

“Let me use your phone. I want to leave another message for P. J. just in case…”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Elaine.”

“What's to thank? After all, you've helped me plenty.”

I gasped again as the SUV veered intimately close to the side of the road. “I have? Like what?”

“Like working on our sculpture.”

“What sculpture?”

Elaine applied the brakes, sending us into a one hundred and eighty-degree spin. I shrieked. I believe the driver in the oncoming lane did too.

I was still jumpy a minute later.

“Don't carry on so much,” Elaine said. “You shouldn't say ‘what sculpture' if you don't want a reaction.”

This definitely wasn't the right time to tell Elaine I had no idea
what
sculpture. “You're right,” I said. “It's too important.”

“It is.”

“So, do you have a plan?” This was a safe bet because Elaine always had a plan.

“Natch,” she said.

“Of course. Watch out for the salt truck!” Merging onto the Queensway with Elaine is not something I ever want to repeat. Thank God, we were just one exit away from the Vanier parkway.

“You're not the easiest person to drive with, Camilla. You know that? It's your tendency toward theatricality.”

“No doubt you're right.” I pulled myself up from where I'd slid under my seat belt. “And so the plan for the sculpture hasn't changed?”

“No. Why should it?”

Why I was so worried? After all, how much of a problem could a sculpture be? A bit of art. A spin to Montreal to some retrospective at the
musée?
No big deal. Especially if
I
drove. Alvin's collision with the wrought-iron gates of Rideau Hall meant my car was out of commission, but I could rent. Problem solved. I felt flooded with relief, in part because we were already off the Queensway.

“Camilla? Are you listening? Why should it?”

“No reason. Just asking. Elaine. Red light. Red light! Oh, well.”

“Hey, you don't like it when I slam on the brakes, so you'll have to control yourself if we're in an advanced yellow light stage when we reach an intersection. Okay?”

If we hadn't immediately accelerated to seventy, I would have removed myself from the SUV at this point and finished the conversation by phone.

“Okay?” Elaine is not one to give up.

“I'll try to control myself if you try to stop for red lights.”

“You never let go, do you? So anyway, for the sculpture, tonight's the night.”

“Great.”

“I hope it warms up a bit,” she said.

“Well, what difference does it make?”

She gave me a bit of a strange look.

“Please keep your eyes on the road.” I watched as a pedestrian dove into a snowbank.

“We'll meet in Confederation Square.”

“What?”

“We'll meet in Confederation Square at seven, I guess.”

“Call me crazy, but given the winterness of it all, why don't we meet inside?”

“Why would we meet inside?”

“Because it will be cold outside?”

“And where will we build the sculpture?”

Almost blew my cover. “Oh, right.”

“Exactly.”

“Hmmm.”

“Confederation Square, seven o'clock. Bring your own bucket.”

I hardly noticed the rapid approach of the bus.

“Relax, we owe her big-time. She drove me here to pick you up and waited patiently for the cops to finish with you, hours might I add. Plus she made a few effective phone calls on your behalf, or you might have been spending the night. Aren't you happy to get out of here?” I said as I accompanied Alvin through the foyer of the Leomont Building under the watchful eye of security.

“What? Are you deranged? It doesn't matter whether I'm happy, I won't do it.” Alvin's ponytail flipped in protest.

“Alvin, let's settle this here. I don't want to argue in front of Elaine, who is doing you a favour. I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her, but this has been a crappy day for me, and I'm not going to spend the night in the park.”

“No buts, Alvin.”

“Plenty of buts. I have been grilled by the Gestapo. My name will be on file forever. If I drop a candy wrapper on the street, I'll probably serve hard time. Of course, my name was already on file with the Ottawa police. Let's see. Why would that be? Oh yes, that was a result of another one of your great ideas, Camilla. So, I think I've done enough for you and Justice for Victims today. And if Lindsay's safe, I want to relax. I don't need to work overtime.”

“You do now.”

“It's bad enough I'm still out in public in your clothes. Here, take your stupid hat back. All I want to is to go home and forget all about today.” His pointed nose was aimed at the ceiling, always a bad sign. “And what's more, you had no business telling Elaine I would help out with this project.”

I couldn't tell Alvin I had no recollection of volunteering either of us to work on an ice sculpture for Winterlude. None. It was hard to explain, but Elaine can have that effect. “Lighten up, Alvin, it should be a lot of fun.”

“If it's so much fun, don't let me deprive you of any of it.”

“Listen, Alvin…”

“The last time I listened to you I had my nose mashed against the gate at 24 Sussex. Then I met two large Mounties with small brains and big guns. I don't think I'll listen again. Thanks anyway.”

I decided it was better not to mention that Alvin's copious nosebleed after the accident had spelled the end of my parka. “Wait a minute. I thought you wanted to help Lindsay.”

“I did want to help Lindsay. But I'm not sure how much it helped her to toss me to the wolves.”

“I'm sure Lindsay will appreciate what you did. It was your way to combat Benning. And that's what this ice sculpture event is all about. You have to admit it's a worthwhile cause. Women Against Violence Everywhere plans to raise awareness of issues of domestic violence with it.”

“Raise this.” Alvin lifted his skinny middle finger.

I
t was pushing five thirty and dark again when Elaine dropped me at my apartment building. My lousy mood was compounded by the fact that Elaine and Alvin had sulked all the way to Alvin's place. But that was small potatoes compared to the fact that Ralph Benning remained on the loose.

Since I hadn't eaten all day, my plan was to snatch a bite, take a quick bath, then toss a few essentials into a suitcase. With Benning still at large, Merv and I would take shifts on alert throughout the night at Lindsay's. I didn't see how Benning could get past the police guard, but if he was going to make an attempt, he'd almost certainly do it in the dead of night. Having to do guard duty at Lindsay's relieved me of ice sculpture commitments, but it would take more than that to let me relax.

I skulked into the elevator and headed for the sixteenth floor.

Some people you don't want to run into after a hellish day. My neighbour, Mrs. Parnell, is at the top of the list. Mrs. Parnell had not learned to mind her own business in the first seventy-seven years of her life, and I didn't have much hope she'd start now. I barreled down the long hallway with my head down. I smelled the smoke before I spotted the glowing tip of her cigarette.

“Ah, Ms. MacPhee.” Mrs. Parnell leaned forward on her walker. “What an outfit. I must say, you look even less fashionable than usual. Still, it is nice to see you.”

“Nothing is nice,” I said.

A waft of Benson and Hedges smoke tickled my nose. “Can't be that bad, Ms. MacPhee.” You can always count on Mrs. Parnell to take the opposite point of view.

“Can be and is.” My frozen toes contributed to the bitchy tone in my voice. As did the news that the damage to my car would be at least two thousand dollars. Plus, my insurance company thought driving into metal gates to avoid death constituted “at fault” on Alvin's part. And I'd been indiscreet when a newswire reporter caught me on the cellphone in a weak moment on the way home. I did not want to socialize.

But avoiding Mrs. Parnell was one of those camel through the eye of a needle situations. If I hadn't owed my life to the woman, I would have told her to go to hell on the spot.

“Nothing a taste of sherry wouldn't fix,” she said evilly.

I know when I'm licked. Bite the bullet, get it over with. If I didn't want to feel Mrs. Parnell's stainless-steel eyes trained on my door for the rest of the evening, I'd have to have a sherry with her and fill her in.

“Sure. Let me ditch these frozen boots, and I'll be right over.”

I hobbled into my apartment, peeled off my outer layers and slipped my numb feet out of the boots. Mrs. Parnell's little calico cat followed me. I bent over to give her a stroke. This was one night it would have been nice to come home to a cozy, warm, well-furnished home with curtains on the windows and food in the fridge. But you can't have it all. Mrs. Parnell's calico was sure glad to see me. I'd given the calico to Mrs. Parnell as a demonstration of gratitude, but due to some outstanding issues, I generally fed the cat and offered her a place to sleep on my bed. She spent her days in my apartment and didn't even seem to hold a grudge after I took her to be fixed.

Five minutes later, I pushed open the door to 1608, and Mrs. Parnell's peach-faced love birds shrieked in alarm. I limped over to the capacious leather lounger and sank into it. Might as well have the best seat in the house. I curled up and rubbed my toes. Mrs. Parnell's apartment is furnished in leather, brushed chrome, glass, serious stereo components and, most recently, state-of-the-art computer equipment. It might not be cosy, but the seats are damned comfortable, and I prefer that to doilies and Royal Doulton.

The birds continued shrieking.

“You'd think they'd get used to the puddy tat after eight months,” I said.

“Lester and Pierre don't mind the cat. Although they find you quite undesirable.”

“Well, they have lots of company.”

She seated herself on her black leather sofa and splashed a healthy dose of Harvey's Bristol Cream into a pair of Waterford crystal sherry glasses. The cat hopped up on the glass coffee table and made herself comfortable on Mrs. P.'s open copy of
The War Memoirs of David Lloyd George, Vol. II.

“Here's what the doctor ordered.” Mrs. P. handed me my drink.

“Right. This your largest glass? I think I need to soak my frozen toes in it.”

“Sherry's the best medicine for cold feet. Learned that in the trenches. The radio reported Ralph Benning was on the lam.”

“Yes.”

“Thought so. That why you're such a sour puss?” Mrs. Parnell does not have a long pointed nose for nothing.

“You got it.”

“So what is the report, Ms. MacPhee?”

“Not sure what I could tell you, Mrs. Parnell, that you wouldn't have picked up on the radio.”

“Radio's fine as far as it goes, but it doesn't give you all the background information.” Not enough to keep Mrs. Parnell going. “This Benning, wasn't he the fellow you worked to keep behind bars last spring?”

I nodded. “Unsuccessfully.”

Mrs. Parnell drained her glass with a flourish and refilled it.

I covered mine in time to prevent a serious overflow. She leaned forward. “Still no sign of him?”

“Right.”

“They say the police have deployed a tactical team.”

“They did. Because one of their officers was injured. Much more important than some pesky woman being beat up.”

“You made the same point in your radio interview. You had a spendid sound bite on the five o'clock news. Won't win you any allies on the police force.”

She was right. One of the established ways to ensure the cooperation of agencies is not to trash them as soon as someone thrusts a mike at you. It's one of those life lessons I've never mastered.

“Glorious ineptitude,” Mrs. Parnell wheezed. “Nevertheless, it is a very serious matter. What is going on behind the scenes?”

“They're tight with information in order not to alert Benning. Elaine Ekstein made sure of it. According to my sister's fiancé…”

“Ah yes, the delightful Sgt. Conn McCracken.”

“I believe you described him as a Labrador retriever at one time, Mrs. P. Anyway, I'm told they have a heavy guard on Rina Benning. The police are also watching Lindsay Grace's place.”

“Lindsay Grace? Oh yes, she was your client who testified against him. Smart and beautiful and yet somehow extremely unwise.”

“Which reminds me, may I use your phone? I want to call her, and it's occurred to me Benning could tap into my phone or cell.”

“Paranoia, Ms. MacPhee.”

“Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.”

“Words to live by. Top up your sherry?”

“Thanks, but I need to be ready to head back soon.”

I dialed Lindsay's number and reached Merv.

“She's sleeping again,” Merv whispered. “She heard an unsettling report on the news and she had to take another sedative.”

“Oh, boy.”

“They sure made a big deal about how Benning chased Alvin and Alvin crashed into the PM's gates. They've found a stolen car abandoned in a park, and they think that's the one Benning was driving. They figure he got away on foot. The radio made it sound like no one in town is safe.”

“Not far from the truth.”

“The little lady here has guts though.”

“Don't I know it.” I remembered Lindsay's testimony at Benning's trial. “Cops still in sight?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” I wished I felt confident a trio of officers would be enough. “I have my cellphone back, so will you call me on it if anything strange happens? Or if you need help?”

“Sure. But I think it's fine. I'm on the alert.”

“I know, but I can hop in a cab and be over in fifteen minutes. Twenty tops, if you want to sleep. Or need a change of scenery.”

“You know what they say, Camilla. You can sleep all you want when you're dead.”

I shivered. “Try not to be dead, Merv.”

“Who was that?” Mrs. Parnell was never one to disguise her interest in the affairs of others.

“Merv. Looks like he's in love again.”

She leaped to her feet. “I approve. Let us make a toast to love!”

“Count me out. I have no desire to encourage love, Mrs. P.”

Back in my apartment, I snatched the last edible piece of cheddar from the fridge and swallowed it in two bites. I made a phone call to P. J. on general principles. This time I suggested I might have valuable tips for him. Not that I planned to let any information slip. I didn't have a twinge of guilt. He'd have done the same to me. I ditched the rest of the clothes, slipped into my old flannel housecoat and turned on the bath. I tossed in one of the fragrant bath bombs Alexa had given me for Christmas and stroked the calico cat. But first I felt the need to apologize. “Sorry I haven't had much time for you, but it's not like you don't have a loving home with Mrs. P. and the boys.” The cat's tail twitched.

Three minutes later, I sank into the warm water and sniffed watermelon-scented air. The calico paraded along the edge of the tub. I thought about Lindsay. I told myself she was well protected. The police were watching, Merv was fussing.

Before I could unkink, the pounding started. I flung my housecoat on my sudsy body and raced down the hall. A sudden looming shape took my breath away. Someone had broken into my apartment. I grabbed a dining chair and raised it to fight off the intruder. Until I recognized her.

“Mrs. Parnell,” I yelled, “what are you doing here?” She was white as the front of a windshield. “You told me you no longer had a key to this apartment. You assured me you would stop doing this. I'm entitled to privacy, and it's time you learned to respect it.”

“No choice, Ms. MacPhee. You didn't answer your phone.”

The water must have drowned the ring. “I was in the bath.”

“Nevertheless, you must hear about this. They've interrupting regular programming…”

“It's Benning, isn't it?” My knees felt deboned. I leaned over and steadied myself on Mrs. Parnell's walker.

“Yes.”

“Has he found Lindsay?”

“He slipped past the police guard and kidnapped his wife.”

“Oh, no.”

“They don't know yet where the wife is, as far as I can tell.”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard.” Merv couldn't keep the tension from his voice.

“Are the cops still around?”

“Of course they are.”

“I'm just making sure. How many?”

“Still three.”

“No one can figure out how he sneaked past the police guard to snatch his wife.”

“Holy shit. It's like the bastard can walk through walls.”

“Told you so. I'm on my way. The more people in the house, the less chance he can get Lindsay.”

I hung up and collided with Mrs. Parnell's walker.

“When do we leave?” she said.

“We do not leave at all.
I
leave on the double.”

“I am magnificent in an emergency. As I think you know, Ms. MacPhee.” She likes to play that card.

“True enough. But this isn't your kind of emergency, Mrs. P. It will be a long night of waiting.”

“I'm nearly seventy-eight years old. Do you think I don't know about waiting?”

“I'm sure you do.”

“These ears are sharp. I hope you don't think they're for decoration.” Mrs. Parnell's ears and the word decoration do not even belong in the same sentence.

“Absolutely not.”

“And, consider this, I have a perfectly serviceable vehicle available in our own parking garage which is more than we can say for you. Plus I have a pair of Sorel boots, lined, waterproof, never been worn, which I will give you in return for a piece of the action.”

I put up a token argument. “If he does show up, it could get dangerous. Who knows what could happen to you.”

“You forget, Ms. MacPhee, that I'm dying.”

“What?”

“Of boredom. Let's hit the road.”