The Nesting Dolls (27 page)

We were on the street before either of the girls spoke again. “That was weird,” Madeleine said.

“But not too weird,” Lena chirped. “Just weird enough.” She looked across the road at the skating rink on Scarth Street Mall. The sun was out; the sky was blue. The sun dogs had disappeared. The day was warm enough to try out new skates. “Could we have just a little skate, Mimi?”

“Let me call your granddad and see how he’s feeling,” I said.

I dialled Zack’s cell. He picked up on the first ring. He sounded terrible.

“How are you doing?” I said.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Is Taylor taking good care of you?”

“She was with me until a few minutes ago. She hovers, so I sent her packing.”

“Are you feeling worse?”

“I’m fine. Did you get the skates?”

“We did and we had them sharpened. The temperature is reasonable, and we’re standing here looking at the Scarth Street Mall rink. The girls are eager to try out their new skates. Would you be okay for another forty-five minutes?”

“Sure. Hey, take some pictures with your BlackBerry and send them to me.”

“I’m not sure I remember how.”

“Maddy can give you a hand.”

“Stay tuned,” I said.

Regina is a city with a population of 200,000, but over the years, I’ve displayed an uncanny knack for running into the one person whom I least wish to see. The girls were laced up
and slip-sliding their way around the ice when Theo and Myra Brokaw approached and sat on the bench next to me. They were dressed for a winter walk: Sorel boots, stylish grey down jackets, and the red scarves they’d been wearing the night of the Wainbergs’ party.

“How nice that you’ve found the time for an outing,” Myra said.

“I promised our granddaughters I’d take them skate shopping,” I said.

“And a promise is a promise,” Myra said. The edge in her voice was unmistakable.

“That’s Madeleine in the green jacket and Lena’s the one in purple,” I said, pointing them out.

Theo shook his head. “Daughters.” As the girls moved around the rink, Theo’s eyes followed them. “Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide,” he said softly.

I looked at Theo Brokaw. He was still a handsome and virile man. Age had not blurred the classic lines of his profile; his skin was taut, and even in repose his body had the coiled-spring energy of a man who found pleasure in physical exercise. When Delia clerked for him, he would have been in his late forties. Attractive, learned, and revered by his colleagues, Theo Brokaw was exactly the kind of man to whom a young woman who lived for the law would have been drawn.

The possibility that Theo had fathered Delia’s child had been at the edge of my consciousness from the morning Delia sat in our kitchen and told us about the baby she had given up for adoption. As Zack noted, nothing in Delia’s history or character suggested that her romantic life would be conducted so casually that she would be unable to identify the father of her child. Logic pointed to a serious love affair. So did the spark that flew between Theo and Delia when she greeted him at the door the day of the party. There
had been nothing tentative or confused about Theo’s embrace; he had clung to Delia with the passion of a lover.

It occurred to me that the tapes Myra had mentioned might offer a glimpse into Theo and Delia’s relationship that year in Ottawa. I turned to Myra. “This morning you mentioned that you had footage of Theo talking to his students. That might be good television.”

Myra arched an eyebrow. “It
would
be good television,” she said. “That’s why I’ve already couriered the
DVDS
to your home.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Myra, I admire your determination. I wasn’t trying to brush you off when you phoned. Zack is ill, but he was adamant about not disappointing the girls.”

“I understand,” she said. There was sly amusement in her smile. “I understand a great deal, Joanne. I am not a stupid woman.”

When I got home, Willie greeted me at the door, his stump of a tail moving like a metronome marking the beats of his joy. The package from Myra Brokaw was on the hall table.

I unzipped my boots, hung up my coat, and went to my husband. There was a half-glass of ginger ale on the table beside him and Taylor’s practice bells from Luther were on the nightstand within easy ringing distance. Louise’s three poinsettias had been joined by six more – all large and all red. I kissed Zack’s forehead. “So what’s with all the flowers?”

“Taylor brought them in. The cards are there by the bells.”

“I take it the bells are for summoning your nurse.”

“That’s right. I told you she hovered.”

“She loves you,” I said. “I love you.” I gestured towards the poinsettias. “Everybody loves you.”

“What the hell are we going to do with all those, anyway?”

“Save money. I was going to buy a poinsettia for Mieka, one for Pete’s clinic, and one to put in Angus’s room to
welcome him home. Now I don’t have to. You can spend the money we save on your heart’s desire.”

“You’re my heart’s desire,” he said. “Did we save enough to buy you a Birkin bag?”

“I don’t need a Birkin bag.”

“Damn,” he said. “In that case, let’s just talk. Tell me about your afternoon. The pictures were very good, by the way.”

“Maddy and Lena took them,” I said.

“I kind of figured that when there weren’t any pictures of the two of them together.”

“The girls and I missed you,” I said. “You’re our team photographer, but you’ll have plenty of chances. It isn’t even officially winter yet. Besides, Maddy and Lena had an audience. Theo and Myra Brokaw were down at the rink, watching the skaters.”

Zack frowned. “No one had a better legal mind than Theo Brokaw. It’s sad to think of him spending his day watching other people’s kids go round and round and round.”

“Myra told me Theo used to take his law students down to the Rideau Canal in the winter to skate.”

Zack chuckled. “And so he could deliver his famous push-glide-push-glide speech – Delia told me about it. Then, of course, I heard about it from other lawyers who’d clerked for Theo.”

“What’s the speech?”

“It’s just a little gem Theo used to trot out for one of his ‘teachable moments,’ ” Zack said. “Theo explained that the law is like skating. Push-glide-push-glide. Argue – allow the argument to sink in – argue – allow the argument to sink in. If Theo had been hosting your show about the Court that kind of crap would have been pure gold.”

“Actually, I did ask Myra to send over some of her home movies. But she beat me to the punch. The
DVDS
are already on the table in the front hall.”

“You’re not still thinking of using Theo in that special, are you?” Zack’s voice, already raspy, was a growl. “Because you can cut and paste all you want, but all the king’s horses and all the king’s men aren’t going to put Mr. Justice Brokaw together again.”

“I know that,” I said. “My interest in the tapes isn’t professional. I thought that with Nadine coming to Regina, it might be useful to narrow down the possibilities about the identity of Abby’s father.”

Zack gave me a sharp look. “So you think it’s Theo, too?”

“It’s logical,” I said. “The way Theo behaved when he saw Delia at the Wainbergs’ party was telling. These days, there must be a great deal that doesn’t make sense to Theo, but Delia’s perfume seemed to be a link to an old safe world when he was young.”

“And a force to be reckoned with.” Zack exhaled slowly. “Life really can be a bitch, can’t it?”

I kissed his hand. “I guess that’s why, all those years ago, Helen Freedman gave me the recipe for ‘Harvey Calls It “Jewish Penicillin” Chicken Soup.’ Think you’ll be able to handle a bowlful?”

“Bring it on. I’m going to call Delia and ask her to come over tonight.”

“Are we going to look at Myra’s home movies?”

“Depends, but the very fact that they exist presents us with one of Theo’s ‘teachable moments.’ A
DVD
of her skating days might remind Dee about the importance of full disclosure.”

“She’s kept that part of her life closed off for many years. You really think some old home movies will do the trick?”

Zack shrugged. “Who knows? But I’m tired of screwing around. I’m going to tell Dee that unless she opens up, I’m off the case. Until she tells me the truth, my hands are tied. And for a paraplegic, that’s no option at all.”

Taylor was not a fan of chicken soup. After she and Declan left to go to our favourite neighbourhood restaurant, the Chimney, for pizza, I took a tray to the bedroom and Zack and I had dinner for two. He finished his soup – a good sign – but refused seconds, and I didn’t push it.

I cleaned up our dishes and when I came back, Zack was on his BlackBerry. I went out in the hall and made a call of my own. Nadine was touchingly grateful when I offered to pick her up at the airport and introduce her to Mieka, who, as far as any of us knew, was the person who’d spent the most time with Abby in the days immediately before her death. I hung up feeling relieved that I’d made the effort. When I came into our bedroom and told Zack, he was less sanguine. “There are two sides to this case, Ms. Shreve,” he said, “and you’re stepping over the line.”

“It’s a very small step,” I said. “I’m simply extending the same courtesy to Nadine that we’d extend to anyone coming to Regina.”

“Maybe,” Zack said, “but I’m guessing Darryl Colby isn’t going to be any happier about this female bonding than I am.”

“That’s a problem for tomorrow,” I said. “So let’s leave it alone.”

“Fair enough,” Zack said, “because we have enough going on tonight. I called Dee. She’s coming over to watch Myra’s home movies.”

“Zack, how much are you telling Delia about the police investigation?”

“The bare minimum,” Zack said. “Dee doesn’t need to hear the details. Why do you ask?”

“Debbie Haczkewicz came by this afternoon while you were sleeping. I thought you might want to hear what she told me before Delia arrived.”

“That’s probably best,” he said. “So how’s Debbie?”

“Tired. Frustrated. Worried.”

“Unsolved homicide cases are tough on cops,” Zack said. “The last time we talked, Debbie told me that all they’ve nailed down is the ‘window’ of time in which the attack took place. Abby’s car was not in the parking lot at A-1 when the power went off, but it was there when the power was restored.”

“That’s a pretty small window,” I said. “The power went off just before six and came back on at eight-thirty.”

“Apparently, the power downtown wasn’t restored till after eleven,” Zack said, “and even when it came on, visibility was lousy because of the blizzard. Debbie assigned some poor rookie to go through the A-1 security tape frame by frame, and he spotted Abby’s car in the first frame after the power came back on.”

“So no pictures of the man who killed Abby leaving the scene?”

“Nope. Debbie has uniformed officers going door to door to see if anyone heard anything, but in that area houses are few and far between and the people who live in them are
not overly fond of cops.” Zack looked hard at me. “Your attention seems to have drifted,” he said.

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m just trying to figure out how everything that happened to Abby could have taken place within five hours.”

Zack winced. “Is your back hurting?” I said.

He tried a smile but all he managed was a grimace. “Nothing a change in position won’t fix,” he said. “Could you give me a hand?” I put my arm around him and lowered him so he was lying on his side, facing me. I placed a pillow behind his back for support.

“Thanks,” he said. “Does any of this make sense to you, Jo? A smart woman, who happens to be a lesbian, comes to a city where she’s a stranger, gives away her child, and then goes off with a man whom she instantly trusts?”

“Debbie has a theory that Abby sought out a professional to help her through the trauma of giving up Jacob. She thinks it wasn’t the man, himself, whom Abby trusted. She thinks it was his profession.”

“So we know he wasn’t a lawyer,” Zack said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Nothing like a lawyer joke to ease tensions,” I said.

“You almost laughed,” Zack said. “Anyway, if lawyers are out, what’s left?”

“Doctors and clergy, and Abby’s Catholic, so I guess we can assume doctors and priests.”

“There are bad apples in every profession,” Zack said. “So Abby leaves Luther College, meets up with a doctor or a priest, goes somewhere with him, he attacks and kills her, pulls her down a flight of stairs, drags her through the snow to her car, drives to A-1, and gets away. All within five hours. You’re right. It doesn’t add up.”

“Are you going to tell Delia?”

“Nope. I think movie night might be enough misery for my partner.” Zack looked at his watch. “Dee won’t be here for another three-quarters of an hour. She wanted to give Jacob his bath. Shall we have a preview?”

I fetched Myra’s package and we watched the
DVD
she’d had made from the movies shot the year Delia clerked for Theo. Most of the footage was of Theo thinking aloud about decisions he was about to make. Dry stuff, but Myra knew how to bring her husband’s legal ponderings to life by placing him in compelling settings: beside a rushing river on a soft green spring day; atop a ski slope in the Laurentians; strolling alone along a shadowy deserted corridor in the Supreme Court.

“Always alone,” Zack intoned theatrically, “except, of course, for his ever-present wife with her ever-present camera. Boy, talk about ego. I can’t imagine you taking pictures of me wrestling with my conscience.”

“The temptation’s there,” I said. “A lot of lawyers in this town would pay serious money to see if you
had
a conscience.”

Zack laughed, which of course set off another coughing attack. When it was through, he closed his eyes. “Watching this crap is getting us nowhere,” he said. “Myra obviously didn’t send over the X-rated version. Let’s turn it off, and watch the rest when Delia comes.”

“Wait,” I said. “Here comes the skating.”

There was an establishing shot of the frozen Rideau Canal. Then the camera zoomed in on a man and woman skating. He was tall and confident of his prowess; she was petite and moved tentatively. They weren’t touching, but they moved in perfect harmony, and they turned and began to skate towards the camera at precisely the same moment. “Hold on,” I said.