Cut to the Chase (20 page)

“Will you do it, or is it a pipe dream?” she said.

“There's nothing to stop me. I'm not in debt, not married and not too old. No reason not to do it.”

“Convincing arguments. What did they say?”

Willem shook his head. “You don't want to know. Let's just say they weren't happy. They like having a son who's Herr Doktor Professor.” He grinned. “The only thing they would accept as a valid reason to change careers would be a decision to become a real, a medical, doctor.”

“That isn't likely to happen?”

Willem threw his head back and laughed a deep, contagious laugh.

Before he could enchant her further, she pulled her jacket from the back of the chair and stood up. In an instant he was behind her ready to help.

Jacket on and belongings collected, Hollis held out her hand. “Thank you for your help.”

“I'd like to see you again, but I don't know how to reach you.” He paused. “Your expression tells me the feeling isn't mutual.”

Having someone read you accurately was disconcerting. Although his references to his court work had alarmed her, she did find him attractive and would like to go out with him.

“My life is…” she searched for an appropriate word and found one she'd used before, “complicated.” She dug in her handbag and extracted an old business card with her Ottawa address. “This is out-of-date, but my cellphone number is the same,” she said and gave it to him.

“I accept that. Will you call me if you need anything else translated or need any help?”

She nodded.

“You do know that there are thousands and thousands of Russians in Toronto, and the Russian Mafia is also here?” he asked.

Again she nodded.

“They are not a force to be trifled with. Amateurs should stay out,” he said.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I have many connections in the community. Believe me, I know,” he said. “From your reaction or rather your lack of reaction, I think you know something about this message. I'm concerned. You shouldn't try to solve this puzzle, whatever it is, by yourself. Go to the police.”

Although she thanked him again, she made no promises. If she'd inadvertently walked into a hornet's nest, she'd have to do her best to avoid trouble. One way would be not to tell him any more and not to see him again. On the way home, she reviewed what she had told him. At least she hadn't said where she lived and hadn't mentioned any members of the Lafleur family.

Before going home, she pulled into the Loblaws parking lot on St. Clair Avenue and rushed inside to load a cart with easily prepared food she could share with Candace and Elizabeth. She'd remembered her carry bags, proudly refused plastic and helped the clerk pile frozen pizza, lasagna, macaroni and cheese, along with several desserts and salad bags into the black cotton bags. This stock should provide a few meals.

She and Candace, holding Elizabeth's hand, arrived at the house simultaneously.

Elizabeth brandished a drawing. “Tee,” she said proudly.

“She painted a portrait of MacTee,” Candace explained.

Hollis bent down and examined the wild scribbles. “Terrific,” she said to Elizabeth and peered up at Candace. “I bought a ton of quick and easy food. Let me bring dinner down.”

Candace nodded. “That would be very welcome.” She ruffled Elizabeth's hair. “The detectives are coming tonight at eight. I was out of the office, and they left a message. I hope it's good news, but I'm not optimistic.”

Should she share the contents of the note that Willem had translated before or after the police came? Maybe after. If Danson was a suspect, this note could be damning. She wouldn't keep it back forever. That would be tampering with evidence. However, she'd wait until she heard what they had to say.

Upstairs, she collected MacTee, and they walked through the neighbourhood meeting and greeting other dog-owners out for an after-work walk, along with children returning from school and day care and men and women straggling home from the office. Toronto, at least in this neighbourhood, was a walking city. Although it was November and the shadows were long as the days shortened, it remained relatively warm. Pedestrians trotted along with jackets half-zipped, savouring the mild late afternoon. MacTee, always friendly, allowed her to talk to his many admirers. It was a welcome respite from the tensions of Candace's home.

Back from the walk, she prepared a salad, microwaved the pizza, set both on a white plastic tray and went downstairs. This time she made sure MacTee, the canine babysitter, accompanied her.

“Tee, Tee,” Elizabeth shouted. She hugged the dog, clutched his collar and dragged him to the refrigerator. “See, see, Tee,” she said to him. “See. It's Tee.”

Candace and Hollis exchanged amused glances. MacTee did not respond. Having his portrait painted did not impress him. However, when Elizabeth offered him her half-chewed carrot, his tail wagged rapidly. After he'd munched it, he and the little girl began their usual games.

Hollis busied herself portioning the pizza and adding a balsamic dressing to the salad.

Candace uncorked a bottle of red wine. “Let's have a drink.” She moved to the oven and turned it on at its lowest setting. “Leave the pizza in here for a few minutes. I need to unwind and fortify myself for whatever the police are going to say.”

The two women perched on the kitchen chairs, raised and clinked glasses.

“To better days,” Hollis said. She sipped. “Nice wine, not too rough.”

Candace exhaled, pushing the air out noisily. “I hope they come right at eight. I want to get this over with. I'm running out of ‘coping' steam.”

“Not knowing is always hard. Any knowledge, no matter how horrible, is better than uncertainty.”

“After that terrible visit to the morgue and the endless hours during which I thought it was Danson, I'm not sure about that.” Candace gulped a large mouthful of wine and made a rueful face. “I'd better not suck it down, or I'll be stoned when they get here. Seriously, I'm not so sure knowing is better. I continue to hope Danson will turn up with a rational explanation for everything that's happened.”

“Since we don't know anything for sure, that could happen,” Hollis said. She reached for the bottle and topped up Candace's glass.

“Did you find out any more today?”

“I did. I trekked over to the University of Toronto linguistics department, and a professor of Russian translated the note.”

Candace set her glass down with a thunk that sloshed wine over the rim. A worried frown creased her forehead, and she bit at her upper lip. “What did it say?”

“Nothing very helpful. Didn't bring us any closer to knowing who Gregory was or what he was doing.”

Not exactly true, but it seemed wrong to give Candace the translation until the police visit was over. She could only absorb so much information at once. Time for diversionary tactics.

“He was one cute guy,” Hollis said.

“The professor?” Candace said with a note of incredulity in her voice.

“They aren't all old and stodgy, you know. He was about my age, and we went for coffee.”

Candace had risen, ripped paper towel from the roll, and was mopping up the spilled wine crumpled the paper. “My God, that was fast. Did he ask you out?”

“How did you know?” Hollis gave what she hoped was a mischievous smile.

Women and sometimes men always obsessed about their single friends meeting the “right” partner. To this point, Candace, who was also single, had not evinced any interest in Hollis's dating life; however, it was a gambit that usually worked, and again it was doing the job.

Candace raised her eyebrows as she tossed the balled up paper towel at the waste paper basket. “And?”

“I put him off, but I have his card.”

“Why did you do that if you thought he was attractive? Single men our age aren't that plentiful.” Candace looked at Elizabeth, who was draped over MacTee. “Believe me, I know.”

Was this a reference to Elizabeth's father, the never-mentioned man, or to the general lack of men in Candace's life? The opportunity couldn't be ignored.

“What happened in your life?”

Candace shook her head. “Long story, and dinner awaits before Elizabeth has a meltdown.”

Good lateral move. Obviously an off-limits topic.

Elizabeth protested when Candace bent to pick her up.

“You can play with MacTee after we eat,” Candace said. She pointed to the dog, who had positioned himself next to the high chair. “He's going to sit right beside you.”

Mollified, Elizabeth allowed Candace to hoist her into her high chair.

Time in the oven had not improved the pizza.

“Olives,” Elizabeth said joyfully when Candace set her plastic plate in front of her. She carefully picked up and ate each morsel. Once she'd stripped the olives, she lifted the slice and chomped into it.

“You should give the note to the police,” Hollis said.

“I haven't even seen it, and you said it didn't tell much,” Candace said.

That would teach her to minimalize. “I don't think it relates to Danson, and it could be helpful to them.”

“You don't know that for sure, do you?”

“No.”

“You promised we'd wait until the end of the week,” Candace stated.

It was Candace's brother. And she had promised. “Okay, but I think it's a mistake. I'll push off right after dinner,” Hollis said.

“No, you won't,” Candace snapped. Her arrow-straight body and out-thrust jaw emphasized her determination. “You're not going anywhere.”

“What?”

“You're staying right here. Whether it's bad news or good news, two pairs of ears are better than one. After they've gone, I'll need to talk about whatever it is they're coming to tell me.”

Hollis smiled. “I did promise to help you. If this is one step in the process, I'm with you. I'll stay as long as you want.”

After Elizabeth was in bed, they marched to the living room.

“This reminds me of the sinking feeling I had when I was called to the principal's office. I remember sitting in the waiting area stewing over what sword hung over my head. It didn't matter if I'd done something bad or not, having the principal boom my name over the classroom loudspeaker always chilled me,” Candace said.

“The principal could be telling you about a prize you'd won or passing on good news—it didn't matter. Now that we're grown-ups, it's exactly the same. Any occasion where you wait for critical information is horrible,” Hollis agreed. “I remember when I defended my thesis, and they sent me outside to await the verdict. It took a long time, and I'd convinced myself they'd rejected me when they finally came out and passed on their congratulations.”

“Let's hope this is one of those good moments,” Candace said.

T
he
doorbell rang. “The moment has arrived,” Candace said over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “Ready or not, we're going to learn something—good or bad.”

Rhona and Ian refused offers of coffee and sat side by side on the couch facing Candace. Hollis had tucked herself into a second chair out of their line of fire.

“Have you found Danson?” Candace asked.

“No. We located his car,” Ian said.

“Where?”

“In a hotel parking lot in Niagara Falls.”

“Niagara Falls, you're kidding,” Candace said. “What in god's name was he doing in Niagara Falls?”

“Did he have any connections there? Anyone he knew?” Ian asked.

Candace shook her head and softly repeated, “Niagara Falls.”

“Is there a lacrosse team there or in Buffalo?” Hollis interjected.

Both detectives turned to her.

“Candace told me he often scouted players for the Toronto team,” Hollis explained.

“Hollis is right, but there are no teams in that area,” Candace said. Her gaze flipped from one detective to the other. “Do you have any idea why he was there?”

“There are several possibilities,” Rhona said.

“And they are?” Candace said.

“He could have been staging everything. Leaving his car in a hotel parking garage would give him time to run and be far away before it was found.”

“Why would he do that?”

“If he was involved in Gregory's death,” Rhona said. Both detectives watched Candace, and Hollis realized they were weighing her reaction.

“Well, he wasn't,” Candace snapped. Her rigid upright posture and the tight line of her lips revealed her unwillingness to entertain this possibility. “Do you have other ideas?” she said.

“He could have committed suicide,” Rhona said.

Candace's head rose, her lips parted and her eyes widened. Clearly this was not something she had contemplated. “Suicide? Danson. Not a chance.” Her brow creased. “Something made you think that. What was it?”

“We found his wallet and his keys in his unlocked car.”

Candace said nothing. Colour drained from her face, and she slumped back against the cushions.

Learning where they'd discovered the car had surprised Hollis, and the implications of this information shocked her.

“All his important cards were in his wallet, along with money. His passport was in his bureau drawer in his apartment.”

Candace said nothing. She licked her lips and closed her mouth. Her shoulders hunched forward, and she shrank into a protective stance.

Whatever they'd been expecting from the detective's visit, this hadn't been it. What a bombshell. If it wasn't suicide, Danson might have been involved in Gregory's death. Grim news either way.

“I'm sorry to provide such distressing news. But I can't leave it at that. We have a task for you,” Rhona said.

Candace nodded.

Hollis saw the unmistakable signs that her friend was in shock. Whatever Rhona wanted Candace to do, it would be hard for her to collect her thoughts and pull herself together.