by D. L. EVANS
“About two weeks.” She looked nervously over at me and I tried giving her a reassuring look. “I remember because it was two days after he proposed and gave me a ring.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, trying to recall something. “You know, now that I’m thinking about the order of things, I remember Katherine told Mary that she thought there might have been a break-in, in Roger’s office. Roger had questioned her about strangers hanging around and was quite upset. That’s how I heard about it, through Mary. Roger hadn’t told me anything. That was the next day... That would be June the tenth. Come to think of it, things haven’t been the same since then. He cancelled a dinner with me that same night and he’s never done that before.”
“Did he call the police?” Mack asked.
She locked eyes with him. “No, he didn’t. I asked him about that and he didn’t seem to appreciate that I knew about it either... just kept saying that it was nothing and I shouldn’t worry. After I left, he gave Katherine a direct order not to discuss office business with me. She was shocked. We’ve been friends for years. Needless to say, she didn’t obey and Mary has still been passing things along to me. Now all three of us are concerned... What could have happened?”
Mack said “What d’ya think Adam?” He leaned back and stared at his glass. “Sounds to me that someone either took something that Roger didn’t want anyone to know he had, or is maybe threatening him about something.” I knew he was thinking about Detective Reese but as far as we knew, Roger was just being watched. Did Roger suspect the surveillance?
We were on delicate ground. I asked an obvious, and safe question. “But why would Roger think someone was bugging Lauren’s office? What good would that do? I mean, what could happen in your office that was so confidential that someone would want to listen? That’s just plain weird? How did Roger explain it?”
Lauren continued, “Oh, he put on some song and dance nonsense,” she waved her hands expansively, “about station security and basically gave me no choice but to allow the intrusion. I was annoyed of course, but that was nothing compared to what I felt when they showed up at my apartment.”
Mack asked, “They wanted to check your home for bugs?... Did they say why?”
“They wouldn’t tell me anything, they just wanted in for about twenty minutes. I refused, of course. A few minutes later Roger ‘phoned me and was furious. He still wouldn’t tell me what this was about. I knew there was some sort of problem with the satellite but I didn’t see what it had to do with security. Why was I a risk? I thought he was just being paranoid but then Mary started telling me things that Katherine was putting up with from him. He was being quite nasty, Adam and preoccupied. Katherine figured there really must have been a break-in and he hadn’t told anybody... and I mean anybody, except maybe Hennessy. Katherine had no idea either. The next thing we knew, he was having his office gutted. Not re-decorated as he had announced, but gutted - right down to the two by fours. Boxes and boxes of new equipment went in as the rooms were re-built under tight security. We thought all the old stuff was state-of-the-art but out it all went. Katherine was working out of a temporary office down the hall but Roger had basically cancelled most of his regular business... the stuff to do with running the station anyway. But it seems that he was, and still is, busy with other things, meetings, people and phone calls that don’t go through her.”
“O.K.” Mack stated. “On the tenth, something happened, in his office, presumably he wasn’t there and it shook him up. Does Katherine have access to everything in his computer, or does he do business that she’s not involved in.”
“Well,” Lauren said, “she’s been with him for eight years and I know she assumed that she knew most of the business but now she doesn’t know. Anyone could have private files hidden. What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know yet,” Mack replied, “but if he’s this paranoid that he thinks even his fiancée’s home and office is bugged, it’s a safe bet he’s up to something and maybe he’s been found out.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” Lauren said. “Something has happened and he’s not acting like an innocent victim. God, I thought he was as straight as an arrow.” She rubbed her forehead. I wanted to hold her and make it all go away. She didn’t deserve this. “You think maybe he’s being blackmailed?” she almost whispered to Mack. “That’s a big jump, I know.”
Mack didn’t answer.
She stood and began wandering the room. His eyes followed her, running up and down her curves as she moved. As she turned around to face him, he started industriously writing in the notepad again. “You know, all this nonsense was just starting to calm down when Jack Hennessy was found murdered. I thought Roger was upset before, it was nothing to how he behaved after he heard about the death last week. Even though we’ve hardly seen each other, what with one thing and another, I know he hasn’t been sleeping. There are dark circles under his eyes and he’s losing weight. The final straw was this morning. Originally, he wanted to be co-host at the Bank Plaza opening. Before we got engaged, it was all he talked about.” She touched her bare wedding finger and I knew the loss she was feeling. Dissolving dreams.
Mack gently encouraged her to keep talking. “Has he changed his mind?”
She looked over at him without speaking.
“About hosting the big opening,” he prodded. “Even I know that it’s going to be a big deal... a huge deal. The papers have been full of it for weeks. The police security for all the big shots has everyone at headquarters on edge. All leaves have been cancelled. Half the downtown is scheduled to be closed for four hours. The traffic will be a nightmare. Has he backed out? We haven’t heard anything official.”
“No, not so far,” she replied, “but he hasn’t had time to go over the plans with me. It’s crazy. You know that he’s interested in getting into federal politics in a few years... it’s not exactly a secret, well, this was to be his first unofficial ‘dry run’ at a campaign. You see why this doesn’t make sense? A lot of important people will be there and he’ll need connections to be nominated. Katherine was quite involved with the invitations and arrangements. Suddenly, he just lost interest and passed the organizing on to me. Thank goodness Katherine had it all in hand and Mary and I just had to tie up the loose ends. Tomorrow night is the cocktail party to welcome the guests at the Royal York Hotel. The Prime Minister will be there!... Roger acts like he couldn’t care less! I can’t understand it. No one knows what’s happening.”
“How close was he to Jack Hennessy?” Mack asked and looked at me as Lauren re-filled her drink. We were both thinking of the psycho that killed him. Could this be the same one that’s freaking out Mr. Smythe?
She looked back over her shoulder at Mack. “Roger didn’t kill Jack, in case that’s what you’re thinking. He spent the night with me after Morgan’s wake and that’s when it happened, according to the police. He’s been questioned but he won’t tell me what they asked him. Only that he’s been cleared. But something has scared him badly and I want to know what it is. That’s why I wanted to talk to you and Adam. I’ve been thinking of hiring a private detective to follow him but he’s so paranoid now that it might make him even worse.”
At those words Mack looked panicked. He agreed a little too quickly that having him followed was a bad idea. (No telling what Reese would do either!) A very bad idea. Thank heavens she had already dismissed it.
“I want to know what the police know.” She said as she walked back to the sofa and sat. I wondered if she suspected how helpless he was to refuse her. Was she taking advantage? “Can you find out from whoever is assigned to Jack Hennessy’s case?”
He cleared his throat politely. “Did you break your engagement? Or did he?”
How did he get that out without emotion? I suspected he was doing his silent breathing exercises to keep control. Mason Green, the illusion.
“Let me see,” she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced at me. There was no way she would want anyone to kn
ow how much Annie had influenced her with a ‘bad review’ of Mr. Smythe. I got the message. Mack was not breathing at all. He was staring in some kind of trance. I took his empty glass and gave him a look to bring him back to reality. He cleared his throat dryly. “It was after the wake..." she said to the window, concentrating on her words. “The next morning. He brought up the subject again - about letting Hennessy into my apartment and we ended up in a huge argument. He was being so anal, not telling me what was wrong that I ended up throwing the ring at him.”
“Musta hurt. It was quite a rock.” I said and she laughed.
“Look,” Mack jumped in, “Here’s the best I can do at the moment. Don’t do anything yourself until I can nose around and see what’s up. But, what if I find out something that you don’t want to hear, it could happen?” He risked a glance at me and we both thought about the information we were holding on his first wife.
“I have to know. That’s all. I have to,” Lauren said. “My other problem is something you can’t help me with.” She had our complete attention. “its just more problems about the opening. Our temperamental artist, Mr. Roman keeps making what he calls, subtle changes to his masterpiece. It’s still under canvass so God knows what he’s doing under there but he’s making the engineers crazy. Now the plumbing pipes, that had to come up through the floor, don’t line up. It’s a fountain, and what’s a fountain without water, I ask you?”
“When did all this happen?” Mack asked.
“We had a meeting with Vlad Roman yesterday morning at the Plaza to go over his speech, the timing, the music... why?”
“I just wondered how involved he is,” Mack replied. “Did he approve of the changes?”
“Not exactly.” Lauren said.
What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Fake it,” she laughed. “We don’t have time to change the water pipes - which means ripping up further sections of perfectly matched Italian marble - before the opening, so we’re just going to run hoses and drains through it from the back, to create the desired affect. The permanent changes can be done after the ceremony, when the dust has settled. I wish all my problems were that simple. The workmen have been great, Vlad Roman has been a royal pain in the ass... I had to tell him not to show up until two o’clock on Thursday or the stonemasons and plumbers would walk out. I’m tired of the whole thing. I just want it to be over.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find out what’s ailing Mr. Smythe.” Mack said with a little too much indulgence but she let it pass. He would help. One more harmonic had been established between them. “Maybe it’s something simple, a misunderstanding. I’ll dig it out.”
“Well, I must admit, I feel a little better having done something... not to mention, talking things over with you.” She smiled like her old self in my direction. “I’ve been feeling a little paranoid myself lately, watching what I say on the ‘phone, seeing double meanings in things, looking over my shoulder all the time. First poor Morgan, then Hennessy. It’s unbelievable. I’d appreciate any help you can offer Mack.” She flashed her dazzling smile and I actually felt sorry for him, having to hide his feelings. Lauren glanced over at the box on the counter. “Is that dinner you brought?”
Mack jumped at the cue, probably pleased to have a distraction from thoughts of jumping her. I found myself enjoying his plight. “I hope you’re hungry.” He said exposing his big choppers in a hopeful grin. “I went a little nuts in my kitchen this afternoon.” He opened the container and lifted out two magnificent strips of wood and laid them on the counter. They were covered with various circles and cones of sushi. Poor guy was desperate to impress her. My mouth watered. It must have taken hours to prepare. Lauren looked shocked. When he saw her expression, he panicked and quickly said that he could whip something else up if she didn’t care for it.
Lauren ignored his comment and helped herself to one of the three pairs of chopsticks that he brought, placed them expertly between her fingers and said. “I’ve never been so hungry. This will be just fine, thanks. What are you guys going to eat?” I laughed. Mack, the poor pathetic fool, had died and gone to heaven.
Chapter Forty-Nine
ADAM STONE:
Early the next morning Annie called and gave me the ‘condensed’ version of ‘the most rotten week of her life’ and it was only Wednesday. I was ridiculously pleased that she wanted to update me in her own words. I listened. Her deep voice started under tension but after a few minutes, she began to experience the cathartic release of confession and the words tumbled out. She never loved her uncle, but she never wanted him to die. It was unbelievable that a total stranger without any obvious motive would kill a defenceless old man. And where did the tape that caught the whole incident come from? Somewhere in the confusion of the order in which things happened, she started to softly cry. I knew that in talking about the past few days the fact that her Uncle had died seemed more real and the grief just settled in. I wanted desperately to come to the house and comfort her but I knew that it would have to be her call. She said that Alison would soon be joining her for breakfast and then they were off to the lawyers for the reading of the will. It seemed that Alison wanted all the legal affairs settled before the family dispersed after the huge funeral on Friday morning. I gently steered the conversation around to the request that Mack would like to see her alone if she was still agreeable. The only time she had clear would be at her studio after her dinner with Alison later today at around eight. I said we would be there with bells on. She laughed. Did she wonder what Mack was thinking or did she already know, and did I really want an answer? Annie, Annie, Annie.
After an hour of exercise with the weights, I wondered at what point does the whole of my life exceed the sum of the parts and Gestalt occurs?
Later, after a refreshing shower, I worked away at the computer, hammering out several plots for my new murder mystery but nothing seemed to hang together. Art imitating life. Whenever Mack and I found ourselves going in circles with a case, we would put things down on a chalkboard and move the clues and suspects around like puzzle pieces. It took exactly twenty-five minutes to pop down to Office Depot and buy the board. Another hour of work, using Mack’s notes plus my extrapolations, and I had it filled with everything we had on the various crimes. I needed Mack’s input. My conclusions kept coming back to the same place... three unconnected crimes by three people. But Annie brought them all together. Why and how?
It had rained all afternoon. I went down to the garage level of my apartment where my car spends most of its life. What a magnificent beast, I thought admiringly running my hand over the bonnet. The engine gave a satisfying growl as I pulled out onto the leaves that were mashed into greasy paste on the oily street. I needed some perspective. Rain hitting the windscreen reminded me that we’re all just tiny blobs of protoplasm sliding down some arbitrary path through infinity. Streetlights came on, painting a glaze of silver on the smooth pavement and giving an impossible purity to the city. I made my way down to the waterfront, my low-slung Healy bullying its way through the bigger traffic on the strength of its heritage, or maybe it was just my aggressive driving.
The parking lot behind the warehouse was sectioned off with NO PARKING signs and red cones, due to re-surfacing so I had to circle over to the next block and ease the Healy into a spot beside a modern looking storage unit. I hoped the dust from a construction site across the road would not blow in the direction of my pristine car but I would have to take my chances. I saw the Stanford warehouse from a new perspective thanks to a walk through the neighbourhood and from across the street the building didn’t seem as ugly as I remembered it. I guess that was because it housed treasures, like Annie.
The elevator opened and she hugged me tightly before I could say a word. I felt a quiet that brought indefinable fears. I was afraid for Annie. Something was hovering, just out of range, beyond radar contact, or had I lost contact with ground control? I wrapped Annie in a big bear hug, but she didn’t seem to mind. I followed her i
nto the room. I had forgotten what a fabulous job she had done transforming the place into a workshop and apartment. Lit candles were everywhere. She was dressed in one of her long wispy floor-length skirts and a soft brown sweater, the same colour as her hair. She helped me out of my coat, still without a word. There were tired lines around her lovely eyes.
“Mackenzie is on his way,” I said quietly. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Do you want to talk or should I just sit here and admire the view.” I smiled hoping to encourage her to relax. She poured some wine and passed me a glass. It went down like velvet.
“I wonder if Mack thought I .. . I mean, I couldn’t hurt Uncle Rick, no matter what... you know that, don’t you. I mean, I don’t have to tell you...”
“You couldn’t hurt your uncle any more than you could have harmed Morgan. It’s understood,” I answered. Her eyes teared up and I quickly put down my glass and reached for her. She put her arms around me and we held each other. I felt her quiet sobs and whispered that it was all right to let it out. Her hair smelled of warm sunshine. A thrill passed through me, causing the now-familiar swell of sexual arousal. Not good timing for desire but there was something that was understood between us. I was relieved when she released me and went for a tissue. She sat in the corner of the overstuffed couch and signalled me to join her. I sat.
