The Icing on the Corpse (20 page)

Naturally, I agreed to the restrictions ordered by the court.

I would stay away from Elaine Ekstein and from WAVE. I definitely would not initiate contact with either Elaine or her staff. No problem.

I know when I'm licked.

On my way out, I whirled as Mombourquette scurried up behind me.

“Section 264, Camilla. Heavy. Even for you.”

“Very funny, Lennie.”

“At least I can laugh,” he said. “I bet your sister won't.”

I didn't give him the satisfaction of responding.

“Speaking of funny, Leonard, your colleague, a Constable Randy Cousins? Little too close to Benning for mere coincidence. Care to comment?”

His whiskers twitched.

“Since we're chatting, who was that female officer who came over when we were in the gym yesterday? Tall girl, spiky blonde hair? The one working the rowing machine.”

“Forget it.”

“Do you have some reason for not answering, Leonard? Like maybe she was Ralph Benning's girlfriend?”

“You'd better get out of here, Camilla, before you get hit with a second charge. You won't be strutting around with a sneer next time.”

I wanted to stay and argue about the sneer, but reason prevailed, and I left. There were less bothersome ways of finding out who's who and where in the police.

H
alf an hour later, I pulled my rental car in front of a scruffy building in the heart of old Hull. The Château Alvin. He didn't answer his phone, doing what I told him for once. I didn't feel like waiting until he picked up my latest voice mail message.

I followed a child in a bulky snowsuit and a tuque in through the supposedly locked front door and sniffed the illicit substances in the air. Alvin was home and probably still sulking. After two minutes of steady knocking, the door opened a finger's width.

Alvin said, “What, out of the slammer already?”

“I want to come in. I'll explain what's happening and you can decide whether or not you want to help me or whether you want to continue to bitch about perceived slights.”

The child, who had been watching our exchange like it was a game, lost interest when I took a step through the door. Just in time, I remembered my last visit, and I gripped the door frame to keep from falling into darkness.

“You don't have to do that any more,” Alvin said. “I've redecorated.”

Jimmy Buffett should have been my first clue. Alvin's bathing suit with the watermelon motif should have been the second. The floors of the apartment had disappeared under a warm carpet of sand. Where there had been walls, an endless aqua ocean flowed, converging with clear blue sky up toward the ceiling.

“Where did you get the sand?”

“Here and there,” Alvin said obliquely. “Artists have to be resourceful.”

If I had to count my blessings, I'd put not being Alvin's landlord close to the top of the list.

Within a minute, beads of sweat had formed on my forehead. I slipped out of my parka and boots. I draped the parka over the nearest palm tree and propped the boots in front of the beer cooler. I slumped into a striped beach chair.

The only familiar landmarks were Alvin's big old fridge in the middle of the living room and the toilet with the plant growing out of it. The last time I'd been here it had been an ivy. This was bougainvillea.

It might kill me being nice to Alvin, but I knew there was no other way. I needed a big-time payoff, so I made the first investment. “I'm sorry, Alvin, for the bad things that have happened to you. I realize I'm not always the easiest person to deal with.”

His bony shoulders relaxed. “I guess you had a bad day, getting charged. Hey, how about a margarita?”

I shook my head. All I needed was a snootful of tequila to scramble my brain. “I need a cup of tea.”

“Hibiscus tea?”

“No thanks.”

“Papaya-mango tea?”

I didn't believe there was any such thing, but I wanted to be on the safe side. “Regular, please. Like your mother would make.”

Alvin loped across the sand dune and into the clear blue sea to the kitchen. He is one of those people who can talk and lope at the same time.

I made myself comfortable, peeled off my red socks and wiggled my toes in the sand while Alvin made the tea. I spent the next few minutes speculating about how he managed to warm the sand.

Alvin finally showed up bearing a silver tray and the pink flowered tea pot and matching cups and saucers I knew had belonged to his grandmother. This time I was impressed to note he had sugar cubes with a small silver set of tongs to serve them. It might have been a bit formal for the beach if it hadn't been for the little umbrella in each cup.

I put four sugar cubes in my tea, which was hot, strong and black in the best Cape Breton tradition. Then I filled him in on the scene at the police station.

“Wow. Elaine contacted the police to have a harassment charge laid against you?”

“Yep. And they took her seriously.”

“Is it serious?”

“You bet. If it gets past the preliminary hearing and goes to trial, it will be.”

“They couldn't convict you.”

“Life has been full of surprises these past few days, Alvin.

The usual couldn'ts don't apply.”

Alvin scratched his head. “Why wouldn't the other people at WAVE try to talk sense to her?”

“You tell me, Alvin. None of it makes any sense. It's a high price to pay for some media profile. Most people draw the line at murder as a tactic.”

“For once, you might be right.”

“Even more troubling is the issue of the police and what they have to hide. Who they want to protect. They're willing to let an innocent person get sent to jail to protect someone. Listen to this, I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but Lindsay says Benning's police contact was a woman.”

Most gratifying. Alvin came close to dropping his heirloom cup.

I continued. “I wonder if it might not be the same female cop who followed me to the door of the cop shop less than an hour before I was attacked. Maybe she has some connection to this Randy Cousins. Maybe they work together, or they're partners.”

“Uh-oh. I can see where you're headed.”

“Yep. If I do what I have to and help Elaine help herself, I'm headed for jail, same as her.”

“What do you need me to do? Go out to the RDC and talk to her?”

I didn't give this a thought. “Too dangerous, Alvin. As my employee, you are bound by the
no contact
conditions. I'd get clapped in the slammer and you'd be right behind me.”

Alvin kicked at the sand. “I don't want to get arrested again.”

“Can't say I blame you. But what I have in mind won't lead to any problems for you.”

He lifted his sunglasses and stared at me, unblinking. “Are you sure this time?”

“Trust me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, Camilla. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Find me Randy Cousins and get a name for our female officer. Priority One. I'm beginning to ask myself if they're in it together.”

Alvin said, “I'll call in the reserves.”

Mrs. P. would like that.

With Alvin on the job, I was able to prepare for my skating date with P.J. and the kids. This involved taking a warm bath and the maximum dose of Tylenol.

I knew Alvin would be leaving no stone unturned while he found out which one Randy Cousins had crawled out from under. Even though I'd be back on the canal where someone had nearly killed me the night before, I was reasonably relaxed when P. J. rang my doorbell.

I was glad to see him. But then I always am. He showed his reporter side, asking questions immediately about my injuries. I made sure my answers were the type that wouldn't show up in the next day's paper.

“It's rude to ask a woman about her facial abrasions.”

“Thank you, Miss Manners. But I got a tip for you. Maybe you shouldn't be out on your own until they find whoever killed Benning. You know where I am, when you have trouble.

No questions asked.”

“Yeah, right.”

The kids were tiny genetic replicas of their uncle from the red curly hair to the gaps between the front teeth. I found I was glad to see them too. They looked so much like him, I felt I already knew them. Plus they both gave the impression they'd stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Apparently another family trait. Luckily, they were five and six years old, so what they wanted was to eat a lot of junk food and skate around in circles making war whoops.

P. J. leaned over and whispered: “Don't ask them about their family life. Things are iffy. We don't want to set them off.”

I certainly didn't want to set them off. I understand how a person wouldn't want to be reminded of family life. The younger one was intrigued by my face.

“Did it bleed a lot?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Oh.” There was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice.

“Hey, with any luck I'll fall down again.”

P. J. laughed. I like that in a man. “I don't want you spoiling them, Tiger.”

It was a pleasant evening for all of us. I didn't make anyone mad, and no one made me mad. The kids snacked on BeaverTails and hot chocolate and got a lot of exercise. I'm not sure what P. J. got out of it, but since we didn't talk about Benning, Elaine, my latest charges or related matters, it couldn't have been a story.

The kids had a fairly elastic bedtime, it seemed, but by eight-thirty they were ready to drop. So was I.

P. J. and I slipped off our skates on the bench. “I had an okay time, Tiger.”

“Me, too. Didn't even make me sick.” Two small bodies snuggled up. We wiggled their skates off and slid their little feet into their boots. P. J. warmed the inside of the boots first with his hands. “We should do it again.”

“Too late for skating. The forecast calls for more warm weather. This is probably the last decent night to skate on the canal.”

“No problem. The kids like to swim.”

It was safe to say that. They were asleep.

I stood guard over them while P. J. trotted off to get his car. Five minutes later, we slung them over our shoulders and settled them onto the blanket on the back seat. My shoulder ached like hell, but I figured it was worth it.

P. J. dropped me off first. I yawned. “Thanks for not taking advantage of my weakened state to get a sensational item for the howling masses.”

He checked his watch. “That reminds me. Gotta file by ten.”

As much as I liked the guy, I knew I'd feel more comfortable when tomorrow came and there was no exposé of the innermost thoughts of arch-criminal Camilla MacPhee by crusading crime reporter, P.J. Lynch.

My first clue was the glowing tip of a cigarette in the gloom of my hallway on the sixteenth floor. A small tendril of smoke escaped from the open door on the right.

“Ah, Mrs. Parnell. How are you?”

“Excellent, Ms. MacPhee.”

I had a pleasant afterglow from the skating experience, so I decided not to whine about her line being busy all the time and the fact she never answered her door anymore.

“You may be interested in the results of the latest research.”

“Actually, I'm interested in collapsing into bed.”

“My colleague has filled me in on your recent misadventures, the near-disaster on the canal and the unfortunate encounter with the constabulary. Nevertheless, you are always a trooper. May I suggest you soldier on a bit longer, Ms. MacPhee. You will find what I have to show you well worth the effort.”

I decided to save time and get it over with. I followed Mrs. P. into her apartment where the speakers were booming Hoist's
The Planets
, “Mars” specifically. The lovebirds shrieked even more than usual, and Alvin was curled up on the leather lounger.

“Make yourself at home,” Mrs. Parnell lurched toward the bottle of Harvey's. “How about a drink?”

Alvin shook his head. “That stuff will rot your brain.”

I said, “And I'll need my brain to deal with you.”

I had to negotiate my way around a laptop computer. Mrs. Parnell splashed healthy doses into two tallish glasses. “Sit down, Ms. MacPhee, and don't hound the boy. I am grateful he included me in this operation.”

I sat. A quick slug of the Harvey's seemed like a practical idea.

“Lights,” Mrs. Parnell said.

Alvin lifted a languid arm and flicked off the lamp.

“Let'er roll,” Mrs. P. said.

Alvin moved over to the computer.

“We thought you'd like to see the officer who was most often associated with Ralph Benning in recent years.”

Oh great. A nice shot of Randy Cousins. Even in the dark, I could feel the two of them smiling. A large image projected itself onto the far wall. It was someone I recognized. The woman from the gym.

“Get to the point. I need to see what Randy Cousins looks like.”

“Allow me, Ms. MacPhee, to introduce you to Constable Miranda Cousins. Better known as Randy.”