Willows’ mind raced. Most of the interviews he and Oikawa had conducted had taken place in office environments, but they had visited a few of McDonald’s business acquaintances at home. He tried to remember if anyone had owned a dog.
“Jack, you there?”
“You sure it was a German shepherd?”
“Arf!” Said Kirkpatrick. When he’d stopped chuckling, he said, “We got DNA from saliva in the wound.”
“Okay, Christy. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Say hello to Claire, next time you see her.”
What was that supposed to mean? Willows didn’t ask.
Oikawa waited until Willows had put away his phone, and then said, “What was that all about?”
“Kirkpatrick says what killed McDonald was a single bite to the spinal column. A dog bit him. A German shepherd.”
Oikawa said, “I don’t remember anybody who owned a dog. I hate dogs. I don’t give a damn how small or cuddly or harmless they are, they scare the crap out of me. If we’d interviewed anybody who owned a German shepherd, I’d still be shaking in my boots.”
“I didn’t know you had a thing about dogs.”
“Well, I do.”
Willows nodded, only half-listening. If he gave his suspect list to the city, and asked them to run a cross-check to see who had paid for a dog licence …
Oikawa continued to ramble on. “I’m allergic. Have been ever since my early teens.”
Willows gave Oikawa his full attention. He said, “What are the symptoms?”
“Watery eyes, itchy skin. If it’s really bad, shortness of breath … ”
“Sneezing fits?”
“Big time,” said Oikawa. His eyes widened comically. “Jennifer Orchid.”
“You couldn’t stop sneezing. By the time we left, you were crying like a baby.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t see any sign of a dog. A place like that, expensive, but a row-house situation, I doubt pets are allowed. Not large dogs, anyway.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard to find out.”
Oikawa said, “We could check with City Hall, see if she bought a licence. Would the application say what kind of dog she owned?”
“Beats me. Probably not. The city doesn’t charge by the kilo. Not yet, anyway. As far as I know, all they’d want to know is if the animal was spayed or neutered.”
Oikawa’s eyes were bright. The possibility of a breakthrough had energized him. He said, “If she owns a German shepherd, that’ll be more than enough to get a warrant.”
Willows nodded. He said, “Or we could drop by, ask her if she owns a dog.”
Oikawa said, “I read in the paper that people don’t own dogs any more, because ownership implies inequality.”
Willows smiled. He said, “Makes sense to me. Everybody knows dogs and cats and humans are all equals. What would you like to do?”
“We take the City Hall route, we might bump into the mayor. We could suck up, score a few points. Maybe get promoted. Or better yet, invited to a party.”
“True.”
Oikawa smiled. He said, “Let’s go see Jennifer.”
“The direct approach.”
“It’s never worked before,” said Oikawa, “so it stands to reason it might work now.”
Chapter 20
Reconciliation, part II
The bedside telephone rang at twenty minutes past one. Jan picked up on the second ring.
Harvey said, “You awake?”
“I can’t get to sleep.”
“Nervous about tomorrow?”
Jan leaned over and flicked ash into the jam jar on the night table. She said, “A little. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m working late.”
“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”
“I’m talking to her,” said Harvey.
Jan said, “Oh, please.”
Harvey said, “I got a low-mileage PT Cruiser, the Turbo model, 215 ponies. It’s black, with tinted windows.”
Jan had no idea what he was talking about. She said, “That’s great.”
“I switched the plates for it, parked it in a safe place. Thing is, I was wondering if I could leave the Firebird at your place. I noticed there’s a parking lot at the back of your building … ”
Jan said, “I don’t know, Harve … “
“It’d only be until tomorrow afternoon.” Harvey hadn’t meant to whine. He said, “I don’t want to park it on the street, ’cause it’s a classic, and I don’t want it to get ripped off, or vandalized.”
Jan said, “Who do you think you’re kidding?” But at the same time, her mind fizzled and sparked at the thought of taking him into her bed. Probably it was true that you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, but did that matter, when the old dog already knew more than enough tricks to get by?
Harvey said, “I could drop by in a few minutes, if that would be okay.”
“You happen to be in the neighbourhood, do you?”
In a comically seductive voice Harvey said, “My heart’s never strayed from home, baby. No matter how far from home i’ve been.”
Jan said, “Okay, go ahead. Park the car wherever you want.”
“i’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“No, don’t do that.”
“I gotta give you the keys.”
Jan didn’t say anything.
Harvey said, “Be right there.”
Outside, a car horn beeped twice. Jan didn’t bother to look out. Harvey buzzed her on the intercom five minutes later, as she was brushing her teeth. She spat into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and let him in. He must have taken the stairs, because she didn’t hear the rising drone of the elevator. When she opened the apartment door, he thrust a bottle of champagne and a large bunch of bedraggled white flowers at her. The flowers were long-stemmed chrysanthemums. They looked as if they could use a drink. Jan knew how they felt.
She said, “Aren’t you sweet.”
Harvey walked right past her, bouncing on his heels. He wore an ill-fitting dark blue suit, white dress shirt, and a wide black tie. A large Hudson’s Bay shopping bag dangled from his left hand.
Jan said, “What’s that?”
“A present.” He sniffed the air, grinned at her. “You smoking again?”
Jan led him into the living room. She put the flowers and bottle of champagne down on the coffee table. They sat down on the sofa. Harvey took a big white box out of the bag. He put the box down on her lap. It was surprisingly heavy. Jan opened it up. The box held a two-piece black leather cowgirl suit. The jacket and flaring skirt had a black leather fringe. The jacket was lavishly decorated with sequins and glass beads. Jan looked for a price tag but couldn’t find one.
Harvey said, “What d’you think?”
“Where did you get it?”
“From … “ He gestured vaguely. “ … the Bay.” Without preamble, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth. Jan felt herself responding, despite all her doubts. When Harvey finally came up for air, he had that look in his eyes that she had come to know so well.
He said, “Missed you, honey.”
“Well, you didn’t have much else to do in there, did you?”
“You’ve missed me too. I can tell.”
Jan reached out and gave his lapel a tug. She said, “Where did you get that suit?”
“It’s a Hugo Boss. Don’t you like it?”
“It stinks like the grave.”
Harvey slyly said, “Well, maybe I better take it off.”
“What about the champagne?”
He kissed her again. Leaning back, looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “First things first.”
Jan ducked her head. She said, “If we’re going to do something stupid, we have to be careful not to wake Tyler.”
Harvey touched her here and there, in all his favourite places. He tilted up her head and kissed her on the mouth, and laughed and said, “What’re you telling me for? You’ve always been the noisy one.”
Home sweet home
Willows and Oikawa had loaded up on carbohydrates and coffee from the Parks Board takeout concession stand overlooking the outdoor swimming pool. Arcing out into the pool was a grey-painted, bare-bones plywood stage with a backdrop that hinted at the shape of an old-fashioned paddle-wheeler. The stage was called The Showboat. There was seating for several hundred on the steep slope leading down to the pool. In the summer, people came down to watch amateur dancers and singers and musicians strut their stuff as the sun set over the water and distant mountains. Willows’ parents had often taken him down to the pool when he was a child, more than forty years ago. It had been a saltwater pool in those days. He remembered a troupe of local men in old-fashioned bathing suits and handlebar moustaches who’d performed on the pool’s outside wall. The men had pretended to run into each other, dived acrobatically into the water, and performed all sorts of skilful and amusing hijinks, never failing to divert the crowd’s attention from whatever tame act held the stage. Willows was wondering what had happened to those men, when Oikawa nudged him in the ribs.
“What are you having, Jack?”
Oikawa had ordered the two-piece fish and chips. Willows’ family doctor had recently told him his cholesterol level was high. Accordingly, he settled on a burger and fries.
They’d eaten in the car within view of Jennifer Orchid’s semi-waterfront home. Between the time they arrived and nine o’clock that night, Oikawa had made five trips to the public bathroom. After nine, he had to use the bushes, because the bathroom was padlocked.
Willows said, “There’s a plastic milk jug in the trunk. You keep sneaking into the shrubbery, you’re going to get arrested.”
At a few minutes past midnight, Oikawa yawned and said, “She’s got an all-nighter. What d’you say we get a good night’s sleep, nail her when she comes home in the morning?”
Willows was too tired to argue. He dropped Oikawa off on the way home. It was close to three by the time he pulled up to the curb in front of his own house. The porch light was on, but the windows were dark. He let himself in, and sat down on the pine bench in the hall to take off his shoes. Tripod, their voluble three-legged marmalade cat, rubbed up against his ankles. He went upstairs, checked on Hadrian, showered, and went to bed. Claire moaned softly when he slipped between the sheets. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the shoulder.
Claire, her voice blurred with sleep, said, “Jack?”
Willows softly said, “Yes, it’s me.” Claire mumbled something, sighed deeply, and rolled away from him. Willows lay there, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The fan was on, but the insect screen reduced the amount of fresh air being sucked through the open window, and the room was uncomfortably warm. He tossed and turned. Why had his wife felt it necessary to ask who’d climbed into bed with her? He had almost drifted off when he remembered to set the alarm.
*
Angst
Annie was listening to Nirvana’s latest CD on her portable player when Tripod jumped off her chest and trotted out of her room. She pulled off the headphones, and heard her father warmly telling Tripod how glad he was to see him. He was keeping his voice down, and he sounded sober, but she’d learned that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She slipped out of bed and eased shut the door, and got back into bed. The CD player’s laser glowed a weird, alien-blue. She hid the machine under the sheets, so the light wouldn’t give her away if he looked in on her, even though she knew he’d never dream of intruding. Anyway, there was no need to hide the player, because she didn’t have to get up in the morning and could stay up as late as she wanted.
But then, why did she feel guilty? Was it because she couldn’t sleep? Was it because she wanted to be twelve years old again, a confident little kid in pigtails who didn’t have any real responsibilities, and never thought about sex, or worried about what kind of person she could, or might not, be?
She heard her father going up the stairs. The creak of a floorboard where the stairs turned. His footsteps were slower and more deliberate than they used to be. He was growing older, too.
Annie didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about anything, come to think of it. Tripod mewed, and scratched at her door. She got out of bed and let him in, and shut the door, and got back into bed. Tripod curled up on her chest as if he had every right to be there. A sharp claw pricked her breast. She moved his paw away and put the headphones back on.
The music reverberated in her skull. She turned down the volume. Her eyes were wet. A tear rolled down her cheek.
She hadn’t known Paige all that long, but they had so much in common that they’d quickly become inseparable, the very best of friends. She missed Paige so much she could hardly bear it, and she didn’t know what to do.
*
Arf meow growl hiss
Hadrian rolled over on his belly. He was in the tub, with Claire. Water poured into the tub from the shiny chromed tap. The noise and force of it was exhilarating and terrifying. Claire held him in her arms as he swam against the strong current. She was naked. Her skin felt like rubber. He swam furiously, with all his strength, his arms and legs beating at the water. Claire held him loosely in her hands. What if she let go, or forgot he was there? Sparkly water continued to rush from the tap. He reached out, but couldn’t touch the bottom of the tub. The water was frighteningly deep. He shrieked with fear. Claire swooped him up and kissed him. He thought everything was going to be all right, but then she lowered him into the water again. His thrusting legs banged against the side of the crib, hard enough to make the plastic mobile rattle.
Hadrian lay quietly, his chest heaving. The room was hot and stuffy. His eyes gradually adjusted to the light. He was turned sideways in the crib, his legs tangled up in the pastel-striped blanket. He worked hard to free himself and turn so he had more room. It was exhausting work. He squeezed shut his fists and closed his eyes.
The bath was calm and shallow. The yellow duck with the funny red bill swam around Claire’s hip. The duck saw him. It stopped, nestled in Claire’s hand, and then hurried forward to be with him. He picked it up and squeezed it.
Arf! Meow! Growl! Hiss!
God, but he loved that duck.
*
Roll ’em
Jackie couldn’t sleep. He checked his bedside clock and saw that it was almost one a.m. He got up and wriggled into his Calvin Klein robe and went down the hall to his brother’s bedroom. A light shone under the door. He knocked.
Aldo said, “Who is it?”
“Me, Jackie.”
A buzzer sounded. The lock clicked. Aldo said, “Come in.” Jackie opened the door. Aldo was in bed, reading the latest issue of Forbes magazine. His scissors and paste and enormous cartoon scrapbook lay on the night table, next to the sliced-and-diced remains of that week’s New Yorker.
Jackie said, “Aren’t you a busy fellow!”
“I can’t sleep. I’m worried about Jan’s boyfriend, Sandy.”
“What about him?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. He seemed so … trustworthy.”
“No, you can’t mean that!” Jackie was horrified. He said, “I didn’t get that impression at all. He seemed perfectly normal to me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Listen, I was wondering, since neither of us can sleep, if you’d like to go to a casino. We could gamble the night away. Forget all our cares and woes.”
Aldo brightened, as if Jackie had briskly spun his personal dimmer switch to maximum wattage. He clapped his hands together. “What a wonderful idea!” The light faded as swiftly as it had come. “But Jackie, we need every penny of our cash to buy the diamonds.”
“We have our credit cards. What we spend tonight will be a drop in the bucket compared to tomorrow’s profits.”
“You’re right!”
Aldo tossed aside his copy of Forbes and leapt out of bed. The brothers were on their way to a long night of eating, and
drinking, and merrymaking, too.
*
Starry-eyed fool
Dr. Randy Hamilton couldn’t stop thinking about Claire. He’d been obsessing about her all night long. The harder he tried to think about something else — like how old he would’ve been when John Lennon got riddled — the worse it got. At midnight, halfway through his second bottle of Merlot, he phoned Sammy Wong’s 24-Hour World of Delicious Chinese Cuisine, and ordered half a dozen of his all-time favourite dishes. Fried Rice with Baby Shrimpettes, Sweet & Sour Boneless Pork, etcetera. The food arrived just as he was uncorking the third bottle. He paid the deliveryman, and carried the food into the dining room. At the table, he poured himself another glass of wine, and levered tin-foil-covered lids off Styrofoam containers. The food was piping-hot and smelled delicious.
Randy’s belly didn’t growl. His taste buds declined to quiver in anticipation. His nostrils refused to twitch. His gastric juices had never failed him before, but now they lay dormant, and his usually hyperactive saliva glands were playing possum. He stripped the flimsy paper wrapper off his chopsticks and stabbed listlessly at his favourite dish — chicken in black-bean sauce. It was like he needed Viagra for the tummy.
He had no appetite, except for Claire.
To distract himself, he made a list of all the vegetables he could think of, in alphabetical order. He got as far as yam, then put down his pen and imagined himself taking Claire’s clothes off. When she was naked, he imagined Claire taking his clothes off. She had a delicate, wonderfully sensuous touch. When she knelt down to remove the hand-knitted argyle socks his mother had given him last Christmas, he just about went crazy with desire.
He imagined them in a naked, passionate embrace, flopping romantically about on a white fur rug in front of a blazing fireplace. Hackneyed dialogue, a preposterous orgasm, lots more hackneyed dialogue …
By two in the morning Dr. Randy Hamilton had almost finished the third bottle of wine and was falling-down drunk. He stripped off his clothes and, bouncing from wall to wall, made his way into the bathroom, where he stood naked in front of the full-length mirror screwed to the bathroom door, and scrutinized his swaying, slightly out-of-focus image from head to toe. The Chinese takeout was an aberration caused by undue stress. He was usually very careful about what he ate. He spent most of his free time at a local fitness club. He ran for miles on the treadmill, hoisted tons of iron, damn near killed himself fine-tuning his abs. Speaking objectively, he had to say he looked pretty wonderful, for a guy in his late thirties.
A Cloud of Suspects Page 24
