The Icing on the Corpse (7 page)

The media are inventive at skirting procedures, but P. J. was still incommunicado. The evening dragged on. Mrs. Parnell found herself out of sherry. I found myself pacing.

She checked every cupboard in the kitchen and came up empty. It seemed to make her critical. “You know your problem, Ms. MacPhee?”

“I'm too polite?”

“You are too driven. You have to learn to focus more and relax.”

“Thanks.”

“Focus is the first principle of effective surveillance.”

Not for the first time, I gawked at her. The long, elderly body, the sharp nose, the startling ears, the perpetual cigarette, tip glowing. The wispy hair disappearing into a bun, the gnarled knuckles. “It is?”

“Of course, Ms. MacPhee. Check any basic surveillance manual.” I didn't have a basic surveillance manual. And I was surprised to hear Mrs. Parnell did. Although it wasn't the strangest thing about her by a long shot.

“You have a manual on surveillance?”

“Covert operations. You could learn a lot from them, Ms. MacPhee. A bit of patience would do wonders for you.”

“I don't have time for it.”

“Blood, sweat and tears,” she said, “but no sherry. I will try the dining room. I think I saw a cabinet there. You keep your ears open for breaking news.”

“You should stay put. If Benning shows up, we'd be better off cold sober.”

“Speak for yourself. I am always ready to fight.”

“Right, Elaine.” I held Merv's cellphone away from my ear. “I'm glad it's going well. Yep. I'm sorry to miss out on that sculpture activity, and I'm glad you understand that this is where I have to be. Lindsay's safety has to take priority. I'm sure building an ice sculpture is a great way to solidify relationships. Really wish I could be with you, but I'll help WAVE some other time. And Alvin will too.” I ignored the look I got from him. “I know he was keen to take part in the ice sculpture contest. And as I said before, we would love to be with you, enjoying the outdoors, instead of cooped up here without a bite to eat.”

Both Merv and Mrs. Parnell listened with amusement. I didn't appreciate the smirks. Elaine was the most single-minded, stubborn person I knew. Even worse than my sisters. Let them try to deal with her sometime, I thought.

“In fact,” I added, “if you are looking for volunteers, next time, don't forget to ask Merv and Mrs. Parnell. They're both extremely good-humoured. Don't thank me. Stay in touch.”

Merv's phone rang so quickly I thought it was Elaine again. P. J.'s voice was a relief.

“Well, well, Clark Kent. Great to hear from you. At last.”

“I'm short on time, Tiger. Whatcha got?”

“Interesting stuff but first, tell me, what the hell is going on? We heard Rina Benning has been murdered. How could Benning get her?”

“Don't have official confirmation yet on that, but it looks like she went out to meet him. Christ, can you believe that?” I could picture P. J. running his fingers through his wiry red curls.

“Not even possible. I can't believe they'd let her go,” I said.

“You and me both, but apparently she distracted the guard and drove off to meet him. So what's the scoop?”

“It can't be true.”

“It is. They found a message from him on her answering machine. He asked her to meet him in the usual place. Told her he loved her and he wouldn't hurt her and he had to see her before he died.”

“Oh my God. And she actually went? Do they know where he is?”

“They have no goddam idea. So what do you have for me?

Where's Lindsay Grace hiding out?”

“What? I can hardly hear you. The batteries must be running low on this thing.”

“You mentioned you had some information. Hey, come on, Tiger.”

“P. J.? Are you there? Hello? Hello? Damn it, Merv. It's time you bought a decent cellphone.”

I hung up.

We had spent a long and jumpy evening irritating each other and listening to stomachs growl, when the doorbell sent us all skyward at nine forty-five. A couple of Alvin's earrings scratched the ceiling.

“Lights out,” Mrs. Parnell yelled. “Hit the floor belly first and keep moving till you are in the trench.”

I reached the front door before Merv and grabbed an umbrella for protection. I pressed the button on the airphone. Elaine Ekstein's cheerful voice came as a surprise.

“Elaine?”

“Holy moly, open up, the pizza's getting cold.”

Elaine stood like Nanook of the North with a pile of boxes. Over her shoulder Officer James loomed, carrying a cardboard box. Behind him the cruiser idled, with the female officer in view.

Elaine kicked off her furry boots. They careened across the marble entrance floor. The heel from the left one left a jaunty little scuffmark on the fresh taupe paint on the wall. “I decided to take the high road. The WAVE sculpture team seems to have everything under control. I decided you need me more than they do. Justice is well served. So I put my money where my mouth is and headed to the Colonnade.”

“And not a moment too soon,” I said.

“Pizza?” Merv took his eyes off Lindsay in the heat of the moment. The moment didn't last long. Merv resumed the lovesick schtick before you could say pepperoni and anchovies.

“That's the best.” Alvin stood and flicked his ponytail in approval. It's always hard to tell when Alvin's excited, but the parrots on his shirt seemed to be engaged in some hula activity.

Merv pressed his advantage and gave Lindsay a soothing stroke on the shoulder.

“Elaine, you are now my favourite person,” I said, “because you have four boxes of pizza. Is one of them mushroom and bacon?”

“For sure. I know your taste. If you can call it taste.”

I decided she'd better be careful, or I'd have to mention she looked four feet wide in her lime-green quilted parka. But at least she wasn't wearing the faux leopard outfit.

The officer followed Elaine into the condo.

“Gotta take care of our boys and girls in blue.” Elaine headed for the kitchen. “Come on down gang. First, Lindsay, I'd like you to meet Constable James. He and his partner are watching the front of the building. Another officer's stationed in back. You're in good hands.”

Lindsay's face said it all. She wanted to be in good hands. She wanted to believe three officers outside and five people inside would be enough to ward off Benning. But she couldn't quite believe it.

I didn't believe it either. Rina Benning had been in good hands too, until she had voluntarily gone to meet her death. Now we had nothing to do but wait and hope the cops wouldn't screw up again. So for the moment, pizza was exactly what we needed to take our minds off Benning.

The cardboard box held two thermoses of coffee. “That should do you.” Elaine flipped open the first top. “It's still hot, despite the ridiculous amount of time you kept me waiting outside.”

“You can't be too careful in a pindown situation,” Mrs. Parnell said.

“I hope that's not the bacon and mushroom you're sticking your hands in, Elaine,” I said.

“How about Hawaiian?” Alvin positioned himself.

“Your favourite.” Elaine flung open the second box, to reveal the lethal combination of ham and pineapple. Alvin's earrings twinkled.

Would this little feast leave us in a more vulnerable position than before? But how could it? Still, the primitive part of my brain kept repeating, eat first, think later. I ate mine with my hands.

Mrs. Parnell pronounced that the combination was splendid. Merv swooped in close enough to cut a delicate piece, which he placed on a plate. He added a knife and fork to the plate, folded one of the napkins into a crisp edged triangle and headed back to Lindsay on the sofa. You can count on too much pizza to help you get a grip on a tough situation.

Five minutes later, Elaine took off her lime green coat. I slugged back a large mug of coffee and tried not to sulk when she snatched the entire thermos from me and handed it to Constable James.

“Stop bitching, Camilla,” she said, opening the second thermos. “There's plenty to go around.” Constable James headed back to the cruisers with a couple of slices from each pizza for his colleagues. I caught his sneer.

We all washed down the rest of the pizza with the remaining coffee and tried not to burp. Except for Lindsay, who sipped her coffee but left her little plate on her lap, the neat slice of pizza untouched.

Elaine whispered in my ear. “I picked up some interesting rumours from one of the crown attorneys about how the bastard escaped.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It looks like he must have had an accomplice. You're right about one thing. They're convinced it was someone on the police force.”

“So P. J.'s right after all.”

When Merv's cellphone rang again, we all jumped. Conn McCracken. “We think we have him cornered. Thought you'd like to know. It should be over soon. Hang in. And while you're at it, do you think you could be a bit nicer to your sister?”

As usual, he hung up before I could ask him what, when, where and how.

“Great news,” I said. “That was the police. They think they have him. They expect to have him back in custody soon or…” I watched Lindsay's face for signs of emotion. I didn't suggest Benning would probably be killed. I knew she had loved him and perhaps still did. Just like Rina Benning. “I don't have any details.”

“I'll get back to my post and monitor the situation.” Mrs. P. heaved herself to her feet and wobbled back to the kitchen.

For once, everyone fell silent, until Lindsay began to talk. “He'll be killed.”

No one else said a word.

She was crying softly again. “I know you don't understand how easy it was to love him.”

She had that right. I scanned the sympathetic faces. Merv squeezed Lindsay's hand. Okay. So everyone else understood how a highly educated, beautiful, accomplished, financially successful woman could hand over her self-respect and autonomy to a guy who belonged under a rock. Why did I have so much goddam trouble with the whole idea?

Of course, my opinion was coloured because the only two men I'd ever fallen for were dead. And my sisters always told me any man in his right mind would walk a mile to avoid my black moods. I couldn't even imagine having an agreeable relationship with an attractive, presentable, engaging living man with ginger hair and a gap between his front teeth.

“It's a syndrome, Lindsay,” Elaine said. “They have a technique, these creeps. They make you think you have the love affair of the century, then they gradually erode your self-esteem, they isolate you from your friends and colleagues, they play with your brain, they make you think everything wrong is all your fault. If you were better, smarter, cleaner, nicer, more something, they wouldn't have to hit you. That's how it works. Don't blame yourself.” There was something in Elaine's voice I'd never heard. Maybe I didn't know everything about her.

“He told me no one ever loved him as much as I did,” Lindsay said. The napkin was in bits. “His life wasn't easy. He knew I would always love him.” She didn't say he was right. She didn't have to.

Mrs. Parnell spoke from the kitchen door. “We cannot always choose whom we will love and how.”

True enough.