Uncharted Waters

by Rosemary McCracken

  “What kind of intel?” I asked.

  She scrolled through the messages on her cell phone. Then she smiled to herself and got up from the table. “I’ll see you soon, Pat.”

  It sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  I sipped my cooling coffee, my mind in overdrive. A few months earlier, the police had been looking for Riza in connection with a rental scam in cottage country, but she had gone to ground. I knew I should tell them that Riza had surfaced, but I wanted to hear what she had to tell me about Dean.

  While I finished my coffee, two men who looked to be in their early 30s unlocked the door of The Bloor Bookshop across the street. I left some coins on the table and went out to meet my neighbors.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sam had a pot of coffee brewed when I arrived at the office. “The security people will set up our door phone tomorrow,” she said, placing a mug on my desk.

  I’d had quite enough coffee that morning, but I didn’t want to discourage her from making it. I took a sip.

  “Dean talked about getting a door phone,” she said. “He didn’t like people coming up unannounced, especially after I left for the day.”

  I was instantly alert. “Did that happen a lot? People surprising him when was alone?”

  She perched on the edge of my desk. “There are street people in the neighborhood.”

  Who could miss them? There was the woman who sat on a blanket in front of the espresso shop, a plastic cup in her hand. “Got a buck?” she asked whenever I passed her. And the young man with dreadlocks who ambled the streets humming tunelessly, his mind light years away.

  “Every so often, one of them will open the door and come up the stairs, looking for a washroom or to get out of the rain. I order them out.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I can do tough pretty good.”

  “And they sometimes came up when Dean was alone.”

  “Yeah. He came out of his office one afternoon and found that guy with dreadlocks watering the big plant we kept in front of the window.”

  “Watering…”

  “Like, he didn’t have time to look for a washroom.”

  I arranged the pastries I’d bought on a plate and passed it across the desk to her.

  Sam took a Danish, and bit into it. “Yum. Love these.” She licked her fingers. “You don’t, like, think one of the streeties did Dean in? They’re pretty harmless.”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “But why? Why would a streetie want to kill Dean?”

  “Money,” I said. “No, cross out money. Dean was wearing a Rolex when you found him. It hadn’t been taken.”

  “His killer came to the office intending to harm him, so no way it was a streetie. Those poor people can’t keep a thought in their heads for 10 seconds.”

  “The police are looking at video footage from neighbors’ security cameras,” I said.

  “I didn’t know they were doing that.”

  “They would have spotted a street person coming in.”

  She looked thoughtful as she wiped her hands with a tissue. “I went over to my parents’ place last night. Monday is Dad’s poker night, so I knew I’d find Mom alone. And I was right; she does hear from Becca.”

  “They talk on the phone?”

  “Becca calls her every month or so. She blocks caller ID so Mom can’t see her number.”

  “Has she told your mother what Gabe is doing these days?”

  “Becca said he’s working, but she hasn’t told Mom what he does. He’s probably up to no good.”

  “They’re living in Toronto?”

  “Mom thinks so, maybe on the outskirts. But here’s the thing.” Sam leaned toward me, her eyes sparkling. “Today is Mom’s birthday, and Becca is taking her out for lunch.”

  “Where?”

  “The Pickle Barrel, Yonge and Eglinton, 11:45.” She flashed me a grin. “I don’t usually take a lunch break, but would you mind if I went out today?”

  “Join them for lunch?”

  She looked unsure. “Or should I try to talk to Becca alone?”

  “It would spoil your mom’s birthday lunch if Becca made a fuss when you arrived. Would she do that?”

  “Yeah, she could go batshit on me. She blames me for botching things at the hospital.”

  Becca blamed Sam? I didn’t like what I was learning about her sister. “Wait until one of them leaves. If Becca leaves first, go after her.”

  “Mom only gets an hour for lunch, so she’ll probably be the first to go. There’s only one entrance to the Pickle Barrel. I’ll wait outside it.”

  ***

  Laura called shortly after Sam had left. “I’ve just been to the doctor,” she said, “and I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

  I’d forgotten about Laura’s doctor’s appointment. “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Everything’s cool. I’m on my way over to see you. I want to check out your new digs.”

  Laura looked tired when she arrived. She was entering her final trimester, and everything—including climbing our flight of stairs—was taking more effort than usual.

  “Dr. Gray thinks the baby will be right on schedule,” she said. “December 18, just in time for Christmas.”

  She walked around, inspecting the suite. “Cool place, Mom,” she called out. “Great neighborhood, close to transit. But you need some colorful posters on these walls.”

  She returned to my desk. “Got time for an early lunch?”

  We settled on Cedars, a Middle Eastern restaurant on the next block, and headed over to it. Laura ordered a vegetarian plate with hummus, tabbouleh, roasted eggplant, and fresh-out-of-the-oven pita. “I’m not much into meat these days,” she said.

  I went for ground beef with onions and diced tomatoes on a flatbread. Turned out to be every bit as good as it looked in the photo on the menu.

  Laura filled me in on the latest on Kyle’s overbearing mother. Two months before, Yvonne Shingler had been pushing the kids to get married. They had reined her in on that, but she’d insisted on making her opinions known on everything from Laura’s diet to furniture for the baby’s room. Now she was planning a baby shower.

  “She’s set a date?” I asked Laura.

  “Next Friday evening. I gave her my guest list last night.”

  “It will be a girls’ party?”

  “That’s what Yvonne wants, but I told her this was not an immaculate conception. Kyle was involved in making this baby, so why shouldn’t he celebrate with his friends, too?”

  “Let Yvonne win this round,” I said. “It’s her party. It’s nice of her to do this for you.”

  After lunch, we strolled along Bloor Street West. My client meeting wasn’t until three, so I asked Laura if she’d like to come up to the office for coffee.

  “Got any tea up there?” she asked. “I’m off coffee these days.”

  “Sorry. No tea, no kettle.” I promised myself to bring both to the office the next day. “I’ll get you a tea at Giorgio’s.”

  She shook her head. “I should cut back on tea, too. Too much caffeine, the baby starts dancing.”

  We were in my office chatting about who was on Laura’s guest list for the baby shower, when a man called out from the top of the stairs, “Hello! Anyone running this business?” I recognized the voice.

  “You’re about to meet Lukas Monaghan,” I told Laura as I pushed my chair back from the desk.

  I found Lukas, dapper in a navy suit, checking out the reception area. “Place looks a lot better today,” he said. “It needed a coat of paint.”

  He strolled into my office.

  I bristled at the invasion of my space. “Excuse me,” I said coming up to him. “I’m in a meeting.”

  “I’m Lukas Monaghan,” he said to Laura. “You must be one of my father’s clients. I didn’t think he had any as young as you.”

  “Lukas,” I said, “kindly leave.”

  He turned to me. “I understand you don’t want to go into bus
iness with me.”

  “That is correct,” I said. “Now please leave.”

  “No matter. My mother and I will be setting up our own shop, and we’ll bring back all my father’s clients.” He looked at Laura in the client’s chair. “I’m sure you liked working with my dad. So you’ll like working with his wife and his son.”

  I stared at him, speechless.

  “Pat Tierney is the best financial planner in all of Canada,” Laura said. “I wouldn’t work with anyone else.”

  Lukas looked at her in surprise, then turned to me. “My dad’s funeral was this morning.”

  I remembered Catherine saying that the funeral would be on Tuesday.

  “Mom wanted to keep it small,” Lukas added. “Just family and a few close friends.”

  Close friends would have included Ben Cordova. I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it the day before.

  “We need my dad’s correspondence,” Lukas went on. “The police told us they made copies of all his computer files for you. I’d like to have them.”

  I drew myself up to my full height. In my high heels, I was taller than Lukas. “Dean Monaghan’s computers and everything on them now belongs to my business.”

  “The e-mails are my dad’s personal correspondence.”

  “They’re his business correspondence, which I bought and paid for. When the police return his cell phone to your mother, you can check his personal messages.”

  “Hello!” a woman called.

  I went to the doorway and found Riza at the top of the stairs. How much had she heard of my exchange with Lukas?

  “Giorgio at the diner told me where you worked,” she said. “You need to get yourself a sign outside. Flaunt your wares.”

  Lukas followed me out of my office.

  “About Dean Monaghan…” Riza said to me. Then she went over to Lukas. “You work here, too?”

  “No. I’m Lukas Monaghan, Dean’s son. Were you one of his clients?”

  “Ah, Dean’s son.” Riza gave Lukas the once-over.

  “And you’re…?”

  “Why do you want to know?” she asked.

  “My mother and I are setting up our own financial-planning business,” he said, handing her a business card. “Could we speak to you about it? Maybe over lunch?”

  She slipped the card into her pocket as Sam came through the doorway.

  I held up my hands. “I have work to do in here. Riza and Lukas, leave at once. I’m sure you both have business to attend to.”

  Sam held the door to the stairs wide open. “Pat has clients arriving any minute. Time for you to clear out.”

  To my surprise, Lukas and Riza followed her orders. Sam certainly had her uses.

  “I’ll be back later, Pat,” Riza said as she followed Lukas down the stairs.

  Laura came out of my office. “Lock the door,” I said to Sam. When she had locked the door at the top of the stairs, I introduced her to Laura.

  “You need a door phone, Mom,” Laura said. “Until you get one, everyone and his dog will be climbing these stairs.”

  “Tomorrow,” Sam said. “We’re having a door phone installed tomorrow morning.”

  Laura turned to Sam. “You’d better screen all visitors over the phone. Make sure they have appointments.”

  “I’ll take all the calls from the door phone when I’m here,” Sam said to Laura. “Unless someone has an appointment, I’ll tell them Pat is in a meeting.”

  “Do that, Sam,” Laura said, “because if you don’t, Mom will let everyone up here. She’s the world’s biggest pushover.”

  ***

  “And who’ll take calls from the door when you’ve gone for the day?” I asked Sam after Laura had left. I was still smarting from being called a pushover in front of my assistant.

  “You will.” She followed me into my office. “Tell anyone who turns up without an appointment to call me the next morning to schedule one.”

  I sat down in the chair behind my desk “How did lunch go?”

  She grinned and slid into the chair across from me. “Mom left the restaurant first. I came in while Becca was paying the bill at the table.”

  She chuckled. “Becca was, like, totally stunned to see me. I told her Mom let it slip that they were having lunch today, and I wanted to see my big sister. She agreed to have lunch with me tomorrow. Same place.”

  She gave me a lopsided smile. “So I’ll be away from the office again for a few hours. That okay?”

  Two days in a row? But I didn’t have the heart to refuse. “Okay. Does Becca have a job?”

  “If she does, she didn’t mention it.”

  “What’s her line of work?”

  “General office work. Reception desk, letters, that kind of thing. She didn’t go far in school. She met Gabe when she was 17—he’s 10 years older than her—and she moved in with him six months later.” She named a few companies where Becca had worked. The one that caught my attention was Jensen & Fyfe, the firm Gabe was at when he was running the patient-records scam.

  “Jensen & Fyfe, the same branch where Gabe worked?”

  “Yeah. She was let go when he was charged.”

  “She was part of the scam?”

  Sam looked surprised. “She wasn’t charged, but, yeah, she must’ve been involved. She may have contacted the mothers.”

  The Quincys probably thought a woman would be more convincing at that, and they may have been right.

  Sam flashed me a wicked grin. “You want to know what Gabe and Dean were up to. How can I find out?”

  “Ask Becca how Gabe is doing, and see where it goes from there. Don’t mention Dean’s name.” I fixed her with a stern look. “And be careful what you tell her.”

  ***

  Sam stopped by my office as she was leaving for the day. “Laura isn’t married, is she?” she asked.

  “Laura?” I said. “No.”

  “So why is she having this baby? She’s, like, 17 or 18 years old.”

  “Eighteen.” I was about to add that it was none of her business, but the look on her face told me it wasn’t idle curiosity that had prompted her question.

  “It was an unplanned pregnancy,” I said, “but Laura wants this child. She’s not sure whether she and Kyle, her boyfriend, will stay together as a couple, but she wants them both involved in raising their son.”

  “They live together?”

  “No. Laura lives with me.”

  “So you’ll be raising the kid.”

  I strongly suspected that would be the case but, out of loyalty to my daughter, I would never admit it. “Laura is looking forward to being a mom,” I said. “And she’ll be a good one.”

  Sam lowered her eyes. “She knows she can count on you if she needs help.”

  Which made me think that nobody had been there for Sam when she needed a helping hand.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Roz and Philip Ramsay, two longstanding clients of Dean’s, brought their teenage son to their first appointment with me that afternoon. Seventeen-year-old Steven was working on a school project on investing, and he had several questions about the financial plan Dean had drawn up for his parents. I suggested a few tweaks to it, and I explained why. When we’d finished, I walked the Ramsays to the top of the stairs and locked the door.

  Back in my office, I stared at the telephone, wondering what Riza had to tell me. It troubled me that I hadn’t told the police that I’d seen her.

  I jumped when I heard a knock on the door. But instead of Riza, I found Piers, one of the bookstore guys I’d met that morning, at the top of the stairs. He had a smile on his handsome face.

  “Today is Jared’s 40th birthday, and we’re having an early Halloween party at the store this evening,” he said. “I’ve invited our friends, and some business owners in the neighborhood will come by, as well. I hope you can join us. Any time after six.”

  The party would be a good opportunity to meet my neighbors. Laura planned to be at a girls’ night-in that evening, b
ut I wondered if Tracy would be available to stay with Tommy.

  “I’ll certainly come by if I can find a sitter for my eight-year-old,” I said.

  “We’d love to have you. Come in through the back door. And it’s best wishes only—no birthday gifts.”

  When I reached Tracy at her law firm, she told me she expected to finish work at five, and she’d go straight to the house. I assured her I’d send her home in a taxi when I returned.

  I walked three blocks to the liquor store and bought two bottles of wine for the party. On my way back to the office, I picked up a birthday card. As I was coming up the street, I saw Riza peering through our glass door. I was tempted to turn and walk the other way, but that would only postpone the inevitable. Besides, I was curious about what she had to tell me.

  “I didn’t know whether you were up there or not,” Riza said when she saw me. “You need a door phone.”

  I unlocked the door and climbed the stairs, with Riza at my heels. When we entered the suite, I saw her looking with interest at my new filing cabinets.

  “I hope you haven’t been talking to the police about me,” she said when she was seated across from me.

  I booted up my computer without answering.

  “Have you?” she asked.

  “I’ve been busy with work. What were you going to tell me about Dean?”

  “Well…” She looked around the office. “How long have you been in this office?”

  I ignored her question. “Remember our deal? You had something to tell me about Dean.”

  “My niece started working with Dean Monaghan a few weeks ago. She’ll need another advisor. Would you consider taking her on? There must be something about her in Dean’s files.”

  “What’s your niece’s full name?”

  “Luzminda Manuel, but she calls herself Mindy.”

  I turned back to my computer and keyed in Luzminda Manuel, then Mindy Manuel. Neither name came up.

  “She’s not on the client roster.”

  Riza frowned. “But you bought Dean’s business.”

  “I did. And Luzminda—or Mindy—Manuel wasn’t his client.” I looked at Riza closely, remembering her devious ways. “Does she go by another name?”