Striking Out (17 page)

The bitter tone continued through dinner. Over the course of the evening, I learned a lot about Carlson family history, before and after Maggie’s disappearance.

“I used to come home from school and find her still in her nightgown,” Terry told her brother. “You were too little to realize it, and the other boys were too busy with sports and junk to notice. From the time I was about fourteen, I took care of her rather than the other way around. I helped her cover bruises with makeup. I made excuses for her. She tried to kill herself once, did you know that?”

“No,” Johnny said.

“I got her to the hospital to have her stomach pumped. Our father didn’t even know. We told him it was food poisoning.”

“Why did you keep it from him?” I asked.

“Because he didn’t want to know. He didn’t believe in mental illness. It was all baloney, he said. A sign of weakness.”

“I never knew that.” Johnny said.

“You were just a kid.” Terry said. “You were one of the few things that made her happy, and she wanted to protect you.”

“Did she ever get any help?” I asked.

“She saw a psychiatrist for a while. She told our father that the bills were from a specialist. She just didn’t say what kind. Then he found out and made her stop.”

“What did she do then?”

“Just kept renewing her Valium prescription.” Terry said. “Those days that was how you kept housewives happy in Milwaukee.”

“Do you think she might have got worse?” I asked. “Do you think that’s how she ended up the way she is? I mean, I can relate to her leaving your father, but it’s a pretty big leap from striking out on her own to living in my laneway.”

“It’s because of him.” Johnny said. “She was hiding because he wouldn’t let her go. He never stopped hunting for her. This wasn’t the first time he found her, you know. Once it was in Florida, working in a real estate office. Another time she was in some place called New Brunswick. On the east coast somewhere. About three years ago was the last time. She was working some place way up in the Yukon or something. Each time, she got away. But I figure she just gave up trying to have a straight life.”

“How did he find her?”

“He had all these private detectives, and he was in with the cops back home. He told them she’d stolen money from him.”

“But she didn’t.” Terry said. “I know she didn’t. When she phoned me to tell me she’d left, she said she hadn’t taken anything except money that was hers from her parents’ estate. And I believed her.”

“Well, Dad never let facts get in the way when there was something he wanted. And he wanted her back.”

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why.” I said.

“She was his property.” Terry said. “She had to pay for humiliating him.”

“Yeah, he lost status at the country club.” Johnny said.

“I guess what you tell me about him trying to find her explains something.” I said. “There’s no better place to lose yourself than in a big city. It also explains why she behaved so paranoid. She had a lot to be paranoid about.”

“I can’t stand thinking about her that way.” Johnny said.

“Well, she had friends, too.” I said. “There were people looking out for her. It’s no good to be homeless anywhere, but at least there were services here for her. But still. It’s a long way from that mansion I saw in the photos.”

“She wasn’t always rich, you know.” Terry said. “She grew up on a farm, but she always wanted adventure. She went to Winnipeg and studied dance. Then she made it to Europe on her own. She danced at some fancy nightclub in Paris.”

“You’re kidding. I thought she’d made that up.” I said.

“That’s how she met him. He was doing the playboy thing in Paris and picked her out of the chorus line. Like something from a romance novel.”

“A horror novel, more like it.” Johnny said, putting down his cup. “I’ve got to get out of here, okay? I’ll walk back to the hotel.”

He left, abruptly.

“Damn.” Terry said.

“He’ll be fine.” I said, calling for the bill.

“I guess I should have told him all this before.” Terry said. “Maybe he wouldn’t have blamed her so much. I just didn’t want to taint his memories of her.”

Driving her home, I asked one more question.

“You said earlier that he didn’t know the half of what you went through with your father. What did you mean?”

She laughed.

“Can’t you guess? The old sordid story. When Mom was off in a tranquillizer haze, I was the one he turned to for the wifely duties.”

I pulled up in front of the hotel.

“I told her about it the day I finally left home.” Terry said, opening the door. “She was gone two weeks later.”

She got out, then leaned back into the car.

“So you see, I don’t blame her if she killed him. If he’d ever come after me, I would have done the same thing.”

I drove home emotionally exhausted but wired by the coffee I’d stupidly drunk. Andy was asleep. It was only 9:30, so I went down to see if Sally wanted company.

“All alone by the telephone,” she said, inviting me in. “I haven’t felt this unpopular since I was fourteen and had zits instead of tits.”

“Mum!” T.C. said, stretching the word over several syllables. “Do you mind?”

“You might as well know what girls worry about. It will help you get along with them.”

“Just in case you should ever want to,” I added, following her into the living room. He was lolling on the couch.

“Excuse, me?” Sally said. “You haven’t heard about T.C.’s suitor? A young woman who phones him at least once every day?”

“Oh, no,” he said, burying his head in a throw pillow, muffling his shouts of protest. “Make her stop, Kate. Tell her you don’t want to hear about this.”

“It’s Stacey.” Sally said. “Anthony’s sister’s friend.”

“The one who found the body?”

“She thinks T.C.’s pretty hot stuff.” Sally said.

He took the pillow from his face.

“She just wants to talk about the murder.” he said. “It’s not like she’s interested in me. She’s interested in the crime.”

“So, you have something in common,” I said. “I’ve heard of marriages built on less.”

He groaned. I ignored him and continued.

“So, want the gossip? I’ve just met all Maggie’s children.”

“Sounds like a soap opera.” Sally said. “Tell all.”

“Okay, but this is just between us.” I told T.C. “You can’t tell your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” he groaned. “And I won’t tell.”

“Describe them first,” Sally said.

“Okay. Pete’s the one I met first. He’s twenty-five, I think. Big, good-looking guy. Smooth. He works for his father’s company and wears expensive suits. He was the one that contacted the private detective here, looking for his father.”

“That’s Mr. Keenan, Mum.” T.C. said. “I told you about him.”

“Is he the oldest?” Sally asked.

“No, the daughter is. I just met her tonight. She’s in her late twenties. Pretty. She looks like Maggie used to. She’s lived in California since she left home ten years ago. She’s got another name, Shaw, but no ring. Divorced, maybe. She’s very bitter about the rest of the family, except for her mother. She’s genuinely concerned about finding her. So’s Johnny, the youngest.”

“What’s he like?” Sally asked.

“He’s nineteen, a college drop-out and wannabe musician. A drummer, evidently, which makes me wonder about his aggression. He just got in tonight, on his motorcycle, looking like a skinhead. He’s got pierced ears and nose and everything, dresses in black. I had dinner with him and Terry.”

“And the other brother?” Sally prompted.

“I haven’t really got a handle on Neil,” I said. “He’s twenty-four, I guess. A law student. He hardly said a word. He drank a lot, straight vodka. So did Pete, only his was Scotch. But he didn’t get as belligerent behind it as Neil did. I guess he’s pretty upset about his father, but he sure made things tense tonight.”

“Why do you think that is?” Sally asked.

“There seems to be a lot of anger racing around among the kids with no apparent cause. I think the father was such a force that the rest of them have defined themselves in relationship to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Terry put as many miles as she could between her and her father ten years ago. Pete has modelled himself on his dad in a bid for his approval. Neil seems kind of jealous of everybody else. Maybe it’s a middle-kid thing. He picks on his sister and Johnny, but doesn’t mess with Pete. Finally, Johnny is in all-out rebellion, doing and being all the things his father would find the most offensive.”

“So where does Maggie fit into all this?” Sally asked.

“I’m not sure. The two who were closer to their father, the middle two, have just written her off. The other two, Terry and Johnny, were most affected in their growing up, by her presence, in Terry’s case, and by her absence, in Johnny’s.”

“Sounds like a psychiatric case study,” Sally said.

“You got that one right,” I said. “You should have seen them tonight, sniping at each other.”

“Maybe one of them did it,” T.C. said.

“Well, luckily that’s not our problem to solve,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re right. But let’s leave it to the police. It’s their job, not ours.”

“Amen,” Sally said. “A good thought to go to sleep on.”

T.C. began his ritual complaint, but he looked as tired as I felt. I dragged myself up the stairs, dislodged Elwy from my pillow, and was asleep the instant my head hit it.

“Why do you want to know if Tip Keenan’s married?” Andy asked, the next morning.

“I’m just curious,” I said, buttering toast.

Good luck trying to sneak a question past Andy, even first thing in the morning.

“As a matter of fact, he’s a widower. What’s it to you?”

“I thought he was nice, that’s all. I thought we might have him over for supper, and I wanted to know what his wife was like, if he had one. He mentioned a son.”

“So, we’ll have him over anyway. That’s a good idea. We’ve been out of touch for a few years, but he’s a good guy.”

“Maybe we’ll invite him this weekend. Have a barbecue in the backyard with T.C. and Sally.”

“Light bulb goes on over man’s head,” Andy said. “You’re trying to set the poor guy up.”

“Why do men always say ‘poor guy’ in this context? Maybe he’d like to meet a nice woman like Sally. I don’t see anything wrong with introducing them. You make it sound as if I’m trying to lure him into some horrible trap.”

“I think it’s a fine idea. Do you want me to call the sucker and invite him?”

“I do not. I’ll call him. I want to talk to him anyway. I want to see what he made of the happy Carlson clan.”

I had told Andy about the meeting and my dinner with Terry and Johnny. He was intrigued by the gossip in spite of himself.

“It never ceases to amaze me how miserable rich people can make themselves. The rest of us are too busy making a living.”

“Do you think it was one of them?”

“I’d certainly be looking at their alibis carefully if I was Walt Stimac. But I’m not. Neither are you, I must remind you.”

“I know, but who do you think did it, really?”

“You did.”

“Me? What’s my motive?”

“Your secret lust for Bob Flanagan. You committed murder just so he’d come around the house more often.”

“Oh, my God, I’ve been found out. Please don’t tell.”

“That depends on what you’re willing to do to keep me quiet.”

“Anything, anything.”

“For a start, make me some more toast. I’ll think of something better later.”

I went to the counter and sliced bread. Still at the table, Andy swore.

“What’s the matter?”

“Have you seen the paper today?”

“Just the sports.”

“Those bastards at CARP are at it again.”

“What now?”

“They’re responding to the Special Investigations Unit report clearing Jim. Well, now CARP says that even though it was Marcus Kinton’s fault he got shot, Jim and I were ‘furthering racist mythology’ by questioning him in the first place. According to CARP, we were racist because there were three suspects in the robbery, two of whom were white, and we went after the black one. This ignores the fact that the Kinton kid was the only one identified by a witness. We had to start with him.”

“How could they know that?”

“They could ask, damn it. Or the woman who wrote the story could have asked. God knows, they all know where to find me.”

“Who wrote it?”

“That Papadakis woman.”

“Your old friend Margaret?”

“I should never have got on her shit list,” he said.

“Then you would have been on mine,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but what damage can you do me in the sports pages?”

“You’ve got a point. You want to change your mind? I’ll give her a call and she can come and pick you up this morning.”

“Nah, I’ve got used to you. It would be too much trouble to break in a new woman at this point.”

I held my tongue. Literally, between my thumb and index finger, and showed him.

“Or maybe I’m the broken-in one,” he added. I nodded.

He got up and came and put his arms around me.

“I’m glad,” he said.

We stood for a moment, then he began to speak.

“I know I’ve been giving you a hard time about getting involved in this case,” he said. “I understand why you want to. But you have this habit of going blindly into things without thinking of the consequences. I get pissed off not just because you’re on my turf, or, in this case, on Walt’s, but because you’re leaving yourself open to danger. You’ve done it before.”

He had a point.

“This is different,” I said. “I’m not going to go and confront a killer or anything. It’s just my natural curiosity.”

He held me closer.

“Kate, I’ve been recently reminded that life is short and full of nasty surprises. And I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

I pulled back and looked at him. He had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and laughed, embarrassed.

“Just give Stimac a chance,” Andy said after a few minutes. “He’s a good cop.”

“I promise. I’m really behaving myself this time. But you can’t begrudge me hanging out with Tip and the horrible Carlsons. There’s a strike on. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“No, I’m certainly not going to deny you your fun with Tip ‘By-the-way-is-he-married’ Keenan.”

He kissed me.

“Just promise you’ll never toast for him.”

“I’m a one-toast woman, never fear.”

The delicacy in question popped up. I buttered it, put it on the plate, and sent Andy back to the table.

“You’re in a funny mood today,” I said. “How come?”

“I don’t know. Actually, I feel great. I just woke up this morning feeling like the cloud had lifted. Maybe it was the SIU report. Maybe because I slept well last night. No nightmares. Maybe because the sun is shining and my body feels pretty good. I’m not going to question it, just enjoy it. I don’t even care what CARP is carping about. For today, anyway.”

“Good. I’ll take the day off and we’ll do something together. Go somewhere actually out of the house. You choose while I go make my calls.”

It’s amazing what a difference one person’s mood can make in a two-person household. I practically skipped up to my study.

I called the office first. Seeing as how I had a piece in that morning’s paper, Jake Watson was happy for me to bugger off for the afternoon.

“There aren’t any talks scheduled, so nothing’s going to be moving on the strike,” I said. “We just thought we might get out and do something this afternoon for a change.”

“I take it Andy’s better?”

“He’s better than better,” I said. “He’s great. It’s almost sickening. I want to take advantage of it while it lasts.”

“You have my blessing,” he said.

“If anything does happen, leave a message on my machine. I won’t be late, and I can write tonight if I have to.”

“Kate. Listen to me. Take the day off. Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“You’re the best, boss.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

I called Tip Keenan next, but he wasn’t in. I left a message on his machine to call me and went back downstairs.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Andy said.

“What? A movie? A walk in the country? A picnic on the island?”

“Better than that,” he said. “We’re going to the Ex.”

“The Ex.” I said. “That would be the Canadian National Exhibition you’re talking about. The midway. The horse barns.”

“The food building.” he said. “Tiny Tom Donuts.”

“We’re going to the Ex because you want donuts?”

“Not just donuts. I want candy floss, too. Let’s go. I haven’t been in years. I want to go on rides, too, and I’ll bet I can win you a big stuffed lion.”

I thought of all the things I might say. About the heat, about all the walking, about his need to take it easy. Then I looked at his face, the face of a ten-year-old kid.

“A lion? Why didn’t you say so before?”

Fifteen minutes later, we were on the streetcar.