The Brutal Heart (21 page)

“No,” I said. “You can’t.”

Zack grinned. “Right you are, ma’am.”

That afternoon, all my needs were met on three blocks of 13th Avenue. My first stop was UpSlideDown. There was a birthday party in progress, and it was time for cake. Eight red chairs had been drawn up to two yellow tables and eight mothers were trying to herd eight little boys into place. There was a Bob the Builder cake, Bob the Builder party hats, and Bob the Builder balloons and noisemakers, which were wholly redundant because the noise level was already ear-shattering.

I smiled at my daughter. “Testosterone central,” I said.

Mieka looked wistful. “You know how much I love my ladies, but I always thought it would be fun to have a boy too.”

“You have time.”

“True, but you need either a man or a turkey baster to get things started, and I’m still using my turkey baster for basting turkeys.”

“Funny girl. What happened with Sean?”

“Nothing. Apparently a lot of women get a crush on their divorce lawyers. You’re feeling vulnerable and all of a sudden you’ve got somebody who’s on your side and taking care of all your problems.”

“And that’s all it was? Just a crush?”

“I wanted more. I guess Sean didn’t. Mum, I really am fine with this.”

“So if Sean were to take a job with Ginny and move to Ottawa, you wouldn’t be heartbroken.”

My daughter picked up a noisemaker and blew. The sound it produced was somewhere between a wheeze and a death rattle. Mieka grimaced. “Unlike this noisemaker, I will survive,” she said. “Now, pushy mama, I’ve got a Bob the Builder cake to dole out. Do you want to give me a hand with the drinks?”

“Sure,” I got the juice boxes from the fridge and put one at each place. Mieka brought the cake with the candles blazing and the mothers sang, “Happy Birthday.”

I put my arm around her. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”

“About a thousand times,” she said. “But, hey, shut up some more.”

“Listen, I have a favour to ask. Could Taylor stay overnight at your place tonight?”

“That’s no favour. Taylor plays hide and seek with the girls for hours, and she helps with baths.”

“I thought in return, Zack and I could take the girls to the lake for the weekend.”

Mieka’s eyes widened. “Now that’s a favour.” She smiled impishly. “Gives me a chance to try out a new turkey baster.”

After I left Mieka’s I went to Pacific Fish, a shop that, despite its name, had the best pickerel and northern pike south of Lac La Ronge; then to Bernard Callebaut for our favourite dark chocolates; and finally to the Cheese Shop where, Dacia had assured me, I could get the Boursin au Poivre Zack loved. The Cheese Shop had only been open since the beginning of May and this was my first visit.

Dacia was with a customer, so I had a chance to look around. On the counter by the cash register was a simple glass vase of gerbera daisies: white, yellow, and flaming orange. The mingled smells of a world of cheeses were heavenly. Dacia was wearing white overalls and an orange shirt, and her pretty hair was tied back with an orange and white striped kerchief. Her skin was olive and already tanned – she looked very Mediterranean and, as Angus said, very lovely in a round way. When her customer left, she came over. “My spies tell me you’re on the lookout for some Boursin au Poivre,” she said in her lyrical storyteller’s voice.

“Your spies are right,” I said. “It’s Zack’s favourite.”

“And your favourite is Gorgonzola,” she said. “Here, have a taste.”

“Keep paying those spies,” I said. “That is superb.”

“There’s more where that came from,” she said. “We have an Oka that is the best I’ve sampled.”

“Bring it on,” I said. As we tasted and talked, Dacia told me what to look for in various cheeses.

“How did you get so knowledgeable?” I said.

“My grandmother had a cheese shop in Saskatoon. I grew up working there. She decided it was time to expand, so she bought this shop for me when I graduated from university.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“Comparative religion. My grandmother thought I’d need a way to support myself while I found truth.”

“Very sensible.”

“My grandmother’s a very sensible woman. Speaking of family, Peter and I had dinner with my parents last night.”

“How did that go?”

“Peter was a hit. He’s a great listener, which is lucky because both my parents are great talkers. And you’ll be relieved to hear that his name is numerologically sound. My last boyfriend’s name was Walter Johnson, and my parents were always trying to get him to change his name to Volter Ivanovski – more positive vowels. My parents take it very seriously. For me it’s just a party trick – something fun to do when you meet somebody new.”

“So the name Jason Brodnitz would be …”

Dacia did some quick figuring. “He would be a six.”

“So much for that theory,” I said.

“What theory?” Dacia asked.

“Zack’s working on a case in which someone is identified by a number. I had a hunch about the numerology thing, but it didn’t work out.”

I paid for my purchases, invited Dacia to join us at the lake for the July long weekend, and went out to my car. Once again, I’d left my cell on the dash. It was ringing – Zack’s ring tone. I picked up. “God, I’m glad to get you,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Buying you Boursin au Poivre. Zack, is something wrong? You sound a little … tense.”

Zack’s laugh was short. “I’m more than a little tense, Jo. Jason Brodnitz is dead. Ginny called me. She’s at Jason’s house. She went there to talk to him and found him with a knife in his chest.”

CHAPTER
11

Suddenly the sunshine I had welcomed in the first hours of the day seemed too bright and too harshly revealing. I thought of Jason Brodnitz, the broken, defeated man I had seen in court on the day he withdrew his suit for custody of his girls; then I thought of
3
, the sadistic monster in Cristal Avilia’s journal. Two lives running their parallel courses: one public, one hidden – both now ended. All the secrets would be unpacked. The agony that lay ahead for Ginny and her girls was unimaginable.

“Are you going to represent Ginny?” I asked.

“Looks that way,” Zack said. “And I’ve got a call in to Sean. Ginny trusts him, and he’s familiar with Brodnitz’s background.”

“This is all so terrible,” I said.

“Agreed,” Zack said. “But there’s work to be done. I’m going to be holed with my client and the cops for a while. Could you call Keith and let him know what’s happened? And, Jo, I’d be grateful if you’d track down Blake and tell him to get away for a few days till the dust settles.”

Leopold Crescent, the tree-lined street of handsome old houses where Jason Brodnitz lived and died, was in our neighbourhood. Getting from here to there in a city the size of Regina is seldom a logistical problem, but it can be an emotional one. Often the shortest distance between two points is a straight line that leads past the house of an ex-husband, an ex-friend, or an ex-lover. That day every route between my parking space in front of the Cheese Shop and my house took me past streets that were arteries to the Brodnitz house. I calculated the odds, drove straight down 13th Avenue to Albert Street, and made it home without running into a police barrier.

As soon as I walked in the door, I called Keith. There was no way to break the news of Jason Brodnitz’s murder gently, and when Keith heard he sounded stricken. But he was an experienced politician, accustomed to assessing disaster and moving on. He hadn’t known Jason Brodnitz except as an impediment to Ginny’s future, so he didn’t waste any energy on crocodile tears. His analysis of the situation was cogent: the faster Ginny was cleared of suspicion, the better, and the lawyer he wanted to do the job was Zack.

“She needs the best, and that’s your husband,” Keith said. “I’d ask him myself, but if the request comes from you, he’ll do it.”

“No request necessary,” I said. “Zack’s already signed on.”

“One less hurdle to jump,” Keith said. “I don’t want Sean Barton handling this.”

“Don’t do your victory lap yet,” I said. “Zack told me he needs Sean’s help on the case.”

“That’s okay, as long as …” Keith stopped himself. “Forget it. Zack knows what he’s doing.” He sighed. “Life is never easy, is it?”

“Nope. That’s why the Scots gave us Glenfiddich.”

When Keith laughed, he sounded like himself, and I felt better. After I talked to Blake Falconer, I felt worse. His reaction to Jason Brodnitz’s murder was unnerving. He didn’t seem surprised. “People like that deserve to die,” he said, and his voice was toneless. When I didn’t respond, he ended the silence. “Is there anything else?” He didn’t question Zack’s decision that he should leave town. He agreed and said he’d be in touch. As I dropped my cell in my bag, I felt a jab of dread. Like Miss Clavel in Lena’s favourite
Madeline
bedtime story, I knew that something was not right.

The morning papers were still on the kitchen table. I flipped through them. The picture of Ginny and her daughters coming out of church had made the front page of all three. It was a clean sweep.

Until that moment I had been baffled by Jason Brodnitz’s decision to call a press conference to clear his name. He was not naive. If he was the man Cristal Avilia referred to as
3
, Jason would know that media scrutiny would, in the end, expose him. But more than once, Zack had pointed out the obvious to me: if human beings were always guided by reason, there’d be no work for lawyers.

When human beings are choked with resentment, overcome by anguish, or filled with rage, passion trumps reason. As I looked at the morning papers with their images of Ginny in possession of everything Jason must have longed for – public affirmation, a brilliant career, the love of his daughters – I understood why Jason had called the press conference. If he were destroyed, his family would not be spared. It was an ugly thought, and I felt the need to banish it. For me, the solution was to swim laps until the tension disappeared from my body and my mind was clear. I changed into my suit and headed for our pool. Jill Oziowy’s phone call caught me just as I was about to dive in.

As always when she was working a story, Jill’s adrenalin was pumping. “This Ginny Monaghan thing is going to be big,” she said, “and you’ve spent the last three weeks with her. You’re in the right place at the right time. Any chance you’d be willing to go once more into the breach for Nation
TV
? On air would be great, but you can do background. We’ll take what we can get.”

“Definitely not on air,” I said. “And I’ll have to think about the other. I may just be too close to this one. Zack’s representing Ginny Monaghan.”

“How about trading a little information?”

“We can give it a try,” I said. “You go first.”

“Well, at the moment, we’re playing connect the dots with the Cristal Avilia case and this one.”

I was shocked that someone from outside had linked the cases so quickly. “What makes you think there’s a connection?” I said.

There was an edge of exasperation in Jill’s voice. “Oh come on, Jo. All during the campaign there were rumours about Jason Brodnitz being involved with hookers. Cristal Avilia was a hooker. And now they’re both dead.”

“So somebody who doesn’t like hookers and johns killed them both?”

“Or somebody who was married to a john got pissed off at him for associating with prostitutes and risking her career and reputation. Look at the facts: Jason announces a press conference where, tittle-tattle has it, he’s going to identify Ginny’s campaign as the source of the rumours besmirching his good name. But before he gets a chance to tell his side of the story, he’s murdered, and guess who finds the body? Ginny. And guess who removes the knife sticking into Jason’s chest?”

Now it was my turn to be exasperated. “Come on. Do you honestly think someone as disciplined as Ginny Monaghan is going to jeopardize her future because her ex-husband is on the prowl?”

Jill was measured. “I don’t know because I don’t know Ginny Monaghan. You tell me.”

“She didn’t do it,” I said. “I’ve heard Ginny talk about her training as an athlete. Reading a situation and staying in control is second nature to her.”

“So, are you sporting a
Monaghan for PM
button?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Got anything more?”

“Nope.”

“That’s a fair start. Keep working on the Avilia-Brodnitz murders.”

“I thought I was working on a program about women in politics.”

“Ginny Monaghan’s a woman in politics,” Jill said. “Boy, talk about a role model. Ginny’s ex-husband threatens to derail her career, so his girlfriend gets pushed off a balcony and he gets a kitchen knife in the heart. Who says women aren’t as tough as men?”

I rang off, dove into the pool, and started doing laps. On days as sunny and warm as this one, I often longed for my old outdoor pool, sometimes so much that I went over to Mieka’s and swam there. Today I was happy to be cut off from the world – safe in my house. I was still swimming when Zack came home. “Want some company?” he said.

“I’d love some,” I said.

In a few minutes, he was back, wearing trunks. He lowered himself onto the steps that led into the pool, eased in, and sighed with pleasure. “God, this feels good,” he said. “And necessary. I had fucking leg spasms this morning.”

“Because we haven’t been doing this enough,” I said.

“There’s a lot of things we haven’t been doing enough,” Zack said. We swam in companionable silence. After half an hour, Zack said. “Time to go. I’ve got to stop by the office before I go to court.”

“What about lunch?”

“I’ll grab something.” He moved towards the stairs and started pushing himself out of the pool. I climbed out too. Zack frowned. “Hey, you don’t have to stop. Stay in. Take it easy.”

“I want to watch you towel off.”

He grinned. “That means I get to watch too.”

We showered and then went to our room to dress. “Jill called this morning,” I said. “Nation
TV
wants me to do something on Ginny Monaghan.”

Zack shook his head. “Could you give this one a pass?”

“I already have,” I said. “I told Jill that you’re representing Ginny. She understands the problem. We did, however, agree to some selective information sharing.”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “Did you get anything good?”

“The media are working on the link between Jason’s murder and Cristal Avilia’s.”

Zack stopped drying his head. “And?”

“Jill floated a scenario that Ginny killed them both because she was angry about his association with a hooker.”

Zack snorted. “Jeez, the stuff that’s out there, eh? Well, here’s some info that’s not for sharing. When I got to the Brodnitz house, Ginny wasn’t alone with the deceased. Margot was with her.”

I poured some lotion into my hand and rubbed it on Zack’s back. There were some worrying abrasions there – pressure sores – too much time in the chair and not enough time taking care of skin. I didn’t say anything, but when Zack flinched the first time I touched a raw spot, I went into his bathroom for the Polysporin and dabbed some on the abrasions. “So, what was Margot doing there?” I said.

“Hovering,” Zack said. “When it comes to her clients, Margot’s part mother hen, part pit bull.”

“That’s an interesting image,” I said.

“Accurate too,” Zack said. “Margot’s a good person to have on your side. She’s protective and she doesn’t back away from a fight. According to Margot, the first she’d heard about Jason’s news conference was on
Canada This Morning
. Of course, Margot being Margot called him and told him not to do anything till he’d talked to her.”

“So Margot talked to Jason today,” I said.

“Don’t I wish? He didn’t answer his phone. Margot left a voice mail. At that point, as far as she was concerned, Jason was just an ex-client who was about to do something stupid. She wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t at the top of her list. She had appointments with clients who were racking up billable hours. His news conference wasn’t until midafternoon. She thought she had plenty of time.”

“But she didn’t.”

“No. She tried calling him a couple more times, then she assumed he just wasn’t answering his phone, so she went to his house.”

I took a pair of silk briefs from Zack’s dresser and handed them to him. “And Ginny was there. It must have been quite a scene to walk in on.”

“It’s one I won’t forget for a while.” Zack shuddered. “There was so much blood. Ginny was soaked. By the time we were finished with Debbie and her gang, someone had notified the press, and they got some peachy shots of Ginny coming out of her ex-husband’s house covered in blood.”

“She’s not under arrest?”

“No. The police can’t do anything until they collect the evidence. If they think Ginny’s concealing something, they’ll keep an eye on her.”

“So what’s next?”

“Ginny’s going to call me after she’s talked to the twins.”

“Those poor girls.”

“Losing a father when you’re that young has to be rough.”

“I wonder how Em and Chloe will remember him.”

Zack shrugged. “Time will tell. Right now the priority is to get their mother out from under this.” He pulled on his socks – cashmere, winter and summer, because his circulation was so poor. “Ginny wants you there when she and I get together. I said I’d ask, but nobody’s going to blame you for taking a bye on this one.”

I screwed the lid back on the Polysporin. “Lately, my attempts to put my head in the sand haven’t met with much success. I might as well do what I can.”

We finished dressing in silence, weighed down by the thought of what lay ahead. Zack chose a lime green and hot pink tie that I especially liked. He was knotting it when the phone rang. He answered and mouthed Ginny’s name.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said. “Joanne’s coming too.” He paused, listening. “I’ll tell her.” He rang off. “Ginny’s grateful. Time to move along, Ms. Shreve.”

“I know,” I said. I thought of the leg spasms, the abrasions on his back, and the weariness in his voice. “Zack, let’s still go to the lake tonight. I’ve already done the shopping. Mieka’s looking forward to having Taylor. And this case will be here when you get back.”

He looked at me hard. “That is so tempting.”

“Give into temptation,” I said. “After the meeting at Ginny’s we can swing by the house, pick up the dogs, and have the barbecue smoking and the martinis poured by six.”

“Sold,” he said. “I love the lake before the people come. It’s nice to be safe from human mischief.”

“People do complicate things,” I said.

We took Zack’s car to Ginny’s – a mistake as it turned out because a shiny new Jaguar with a vanity plate
AMICUS
is more noticeable than a Volvo station wagon of indeterminate age with a licence plate that says nothing. There were media vans parked in front of Ginny’s condo. Zack pulled into a parking spot well away from them. “What the hell do they think they’re going to see?”