The K Handshape

by Maureen Jennings

  Leo stood up. “I’d like to go back to the office, Chris. We need to inform Katherine. Mrs. Scott, Jessica, Hannah. Thank you for your co-operation. I do apologize again for my behaviour. It was unconscionable. If you can find it in you to forgive me, I would be grateful.”

  I had never seen him so humble and my heart went out to him. Mrs. Scott smiled. The girls didn’t. I don’t know how much Hannah had understood but they both stared at him with angry eyes. Forgiveness would be a long time coming.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  We hustled through the driving rain to the shelter of the canopy that went from the parking lot to the side staff entrance. A couple of people were outside shivering, having a cigarette. Janice was one of them. She was an addicted smoker, always trying to quit but never succeeding for more than six months at a time. When she saw me she looked guilty and waved her cigarette in the air.

  “This is my last one. I’m going on the patch as of tomorrow.”

  Leo stopped. “Janice, can I bum one off you?”

  “Sure.” She looked surprised, but she shook out a cigarette, low tar, low nicotine, the smoker’s illusory sop to conscience. He took it, lit up, drew in a deep lungful of tobacco, coughed a little, and exhaled.

  “I quit years ago,” he said to me, “but it suddenly looked appealing.” He took another drag, coughed again, then stubbed it out in the ash bucket by the door. “Thank God it isn’t. It tastes like sawdust shavings.”

  Janice laughed. “Hey, that’s my best friend you’re insulting.” She stubbed out her own cigarette. “That’s it. I’ll come in with you. I’m perishing.” We headed for the door and Janice keyed the security pad. We went inside, leaving the other sufferer to his addiction.

  “There has been a report on the news channel,” said Janice. “They did use Deidre’s name but there haven’t been any calls here, so at the moment nobody is connecting the two of you. However, a woman called Trudy phoned three times. She said she was your, er, wife and she had heard the news and wanted you to call her at once. Did you have your cellphone off?”

  Leo winced. “Trudy still insists on identifying herself as my wife even though we’ve been divorced for twenty-five years. She’s Catholic and won’t recognize civil laws, only God’s or the Pope’s, which is the same thing in her mind.”

  I suppose he wasn’t to know that Janice was a devout Roman Catholic and probably felt the same way. I noticed the glance she threw at him.

  Leo took out his cellphone, snapped it open, and keyed in a number as we walked down to the elevator.

  “Trudy? Leo … Well, what would you expect? … No, I’m not being rude, I’m under stress at the moment … No, there’s nothing you can do … No. Loretta? Yes, she should be here tonight … No, I don’t know how she’s taken it. Badly probably … Trudy please, I can’t go into that right now. Of course I intended to phone you, I just haven’t had time … No, I haven’t told Sig yet. I tried but I couldn’t reach him. Yes, I will as soon as I can … I realize that, Trudy. It’s you who aren’t being sensitive…” She must have hung up because he swore and closed the phone. His mouth twisted as if he were tasting something sour. “Where there’s a carcass there will Trudy be found.”

  The three of us stepped into the elevator, thrown into uncomfortable intimacy. Janice smelled of cigarette smoke.

  “By the way, Christine, a fax came for you from the Hebrides. I put it on your desk.”

  Damn. I’d forgotten I’d promised Gill I’d take a look at his report on major crime in Lewis. I’d have to do it later.

  Leo and I left Janice at her desk and went on to Katherine’s office. She was on the phone but beckoned us in at once.

  “Yes … thanks, Ed. I’ll pass that along and get back to you. Bye.” She hung up. “Ed Chaffey says he can have the casino surveillance tape ready for us by tomorrow morning. They’d like us to go there to view it. Okay with you, Leo?”

  I sat down in one of the chairs, but he walked over to the window and stood gazing out. The view from here wasn’t like the one from his condo. The office looked out on to Memorial Drive and cars coming and going. Definitely not interesting or beautiful. Without turning around, he said. “Tell Katherine about the DVD, Chris.”

  I filled her in. “We should be able to get information on this Zach Taylor fellow from Gallaudet University, although from what I could gather off the tape, he’s a bit of a gypsy. He has his own camper van and he uses a post office box here in Orillia.”

  “I’ll pass all that on to Ed and he can check it out right away.”

  “Tell him it’s likely to be an older model, blue and white.”

  Leo turned and looked at me quizzically.

  “The colours of Scotland,” I explained.

  He came away from the window and took the other chair. “We think this man is the father of Deidre’s child. Maybe even of the second conception.” He swallowed hard, hurt by his own words. “We need to talk to Nora again and see if he was at the house or if Deidre let on she was seeing him. I’m guessing the letter we found by the car was from him. Maybe Dee was planning to tell him she was pregnant. It’s not always welcome news. Perhaps they had an argument and he lost his temper.”

  Typically, men who lost their tempers struck out with fists or knives if they had them. To strangle somebody to death required a colder frame of mind. However, at this stage I wasn’t going to argue. Leo needed something to fasten on to, and as a real flesh-and-blood person, the unknown Zach was a likely candidate. He was also choosing to ignore what both of Deidre’s friends had said about Zach being a harmless sort of guy. On the other hand, crime history is jam-packed with witness statements about what a nice man the accused was. “Quiet” is how they are most often described.

  “Chaffey should start asking if anybody at the casino saw a camper or a sleeper type van in the vicinity of the parking lot. Maybe he went there to pick her up after all.”

  Katherine made a note. “We’ve passed on her photograph to Ed and he’s checking the bus drivers and taxi drivers who were working that shift.”

  Leo got to his feet. “I’m sorry, I just can’t concentrate. I shouldn’t be sitting here; I must talk to Nora before anything else. We’ve got to work out what to do with Joy.” He looked over at Katherine and held up his hand in a stop gesture. “I know you’d like to play it by the book and shut me down but this is private territory. I have a right to make sure my granddaughter is taken care of.”

  His tone was belligerent and Katherine bit her lip. “Of course I understand that but to be blunt, Leo, you’re in no shape to be conducting an enquiry at the same time, which I know you will do when you get there.”

  “Christine can come with me then. She’ll keep it legit.”

  A good bedside manner had never been Leo’s strong suit and for a moment I bristled at his tone and the assumption that I was at his beck and call. He must have picked up on it because his eyes met mine and he softened his voice. “I would appreciate your company. You’re stopping me from going insane.”

  Katherine took back the reins. “Well if it’s all right with you, Chris, why don’t you do that now? I’ll hold a briefing tomorrow.”

  I gathered my things and followed Leo, who was already moving out of the office. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’m going to take the fire exit. I can’t face talking to anybody right now. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  I was about to say, “copy that,” which was a running joke in the office. We were all going around doing the 24 “copy that” and the scary “trust me,” which Jack Bauer always said before disaster struck. Needless to say this was no time for levity and I kept my mouth shut. I was quite capable of walking down two flights of stairs but I thought he needed a time out so I took the elevator and headed for the car. He must have run down because he was already waiting. He hadn’t brought a hat or an umbrella and rain was dripping off his nose. His hair was soaked. The man was going to get pneumonia if he didn’t watch it. I felt my gut twinge in pity. Dr. Leo
Forgach was in the grip of a massive dose of grief, heavily laced with guilt.

  In the trunk I had what I called my emergency box. First aid supplies; extra clothes; boots; gloves; flashlight; flare; yes, even a packet of energy bars that I kept forgetting to replace, so they were probably stale by now. Orillia wasn’t exactly in wilderness country but in my job you never know when you’d get a call to go somewhere rough. If I didn’t need them, somebody else might. I fished in the box and took out a clean towel and handed it to him.

  “You’re not going to be any good to anybody if you get ill. Dry off.”

  He managed a grin. “Copy that.”

  I started the car, turning the heater on full blast.

  “How about if I drop off Mr. Torres’s jacket on the way?”

  I’d grabbed it as I left the condo.

  Leo glanced out the window. “I’ll wait in the car if you don’t mind. I’m not ready for him either. I suspect he’ll ask a lot of questions that I don’t have the answer to. Will you give him my thanks? Tell him I’ll be in touch in person at a later time.”

  “Of course.”

  He lapsed into silence and I concentrated on driving.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  On the way, I tried Paula’s cellphone but she hadn’t switched it on. I left a message. I wondered if, God forbid, she was still waiting at the hospital or if the silence meant bad news. Surely she wouldn’t know anything just yet. At Leo’s request, I played the only CD he approved of, a disc Gill had given me called Celtic Reverie. He leaned back and closed his eyes. The music soothed both of us.

  I parked in front of the apartment building and left the engine running so Leo could go on listening. A woman in a motorized wheelchair was manoeuvring her way through the lobby and I jumped to hold open the door for her. She gave me a cheery smile of thanks.

  “It’s wet out there,” I said.

  “I’m dressed for it,” she said. “If I don’t get out, I go stir crazy.”

  There was a plastic canopy attached to the arms of the wheelchair so that it resembled a golf cart. Nevertheless she was still exposed to the elements, and the rain was relentless. I didn’t envy her.

  Mr. Torres was in apartment 1A, which turned out to be the superintendent’s. It had a slot in the door rather like the kind that toilets in airplanes have, except this one said, “Off Duty.” I rang the bell. No answer. I rang again. Maybe “Off Duty” meant Mr. Torres was out. I was about to leave when the door opened. A square-shaped, grey-haired woman in a black dress stood on the threshold. She looked at me impassively, not speaking.

  “Hello, is Sylvio Torres in? I, er, I wanted to return his jacket.”

  “No speak English,” she said. “Why his jacket?”

  I presumed she meant, why did I have his jacket in my possession, but if she didn’t speak English it was going to be too complicated to explain. I held it out to her.

  “Tell him, Christine Morris returned it with thanks.”

  She didn’t touch it. “Why jacket?” she asked again. She was frowning but I thought that might be a permanent expression. At that moment, I heard the excited yapping of a small dog and Sylvio Torres pushed open the lobby door. He was carrying a couple of plastic grocery bags and he had Lily on a leash. She danced excitedly at the sight of me as if we were old pals. She had on a fluorescent pink rain jacket and little pink boots. Very cute. Mr. Torres had found an extra raincoat for himself but he looked chilled. The one he’d lent us was probably warmer. He greeted me with a big smile but that followed after a quick flash of apprehension.

  “Miss Morris. I didn’t realize who it was for minute.” He said something in another language, probably Portuguese, to the woman who I assumed was his mother. She answered back, gesticulating to him angrily. He retorted in kind, and she turned on her heel and stomped back into the apartment, actually slamming the door behind her.

  “I do apologize for my mother, Miss Morris. She is from old country.” He seemed to offer that as an explanation for the old lady’s bad manners. “Ah, I see you have my coat.”

  I handed it to him. “Thank you so much for lending it to us. Dr. Forgach wanted you to know that he is most grateful and he would be in touch with you at a later time to thank you in person.”

  “I saw him sitting in a car just down the road.”

  He stared at me and an oddly sullen expression crossed his face as if Leo had slighted him personally by not coming to speak to him.

  “Er, he’s quite upset.” I stopped, suddenly realizing that Torres might not know that Deidre was Leo’s daughter. I didn’t think I should be the one to tell him. I gave Lily a quick scratch on the head. “Thank you again, Mr. Torres. And as I said, if you have any more information, please get in touch with me at the Centre.”

  He frowned. “What more information would I have? I was just walking Lily.”

  “It’s not only today that we’re interested in. We have to find out all we can about Deidre’s movements. Her habits, that sort of thing.”

  “Yes, yes, of course you must. I’ll think about it.”

  I hesitated. It wasn’t generally a good policy to reveal information about an investigation early on but what the hell, he might be helpful.

  “We would particularly like to speak to the owner of a blue and white camper van, older model. Have you noticed anything like that in the area?”

  He thought for a minute. “Blue and white? A camper van is the kind people sleep in, no?”

  I nodded.

  “Then I have seen a van like that. It was parked outside her house, oh, maybe a month ago, or more now. The reason I noticed it particularly was because it had got a ticket. You can’t park on that street from midnight to 7:00 a.m. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it but it was the parking ticket that got to me. I get so fed up with those parking guys who prowl these streets. They’re always trying to fill their quotas even if you’re only five minutes over. Vampires, that’s what they are.”

  All my antennae started to twitch. “Did you see the driver of the camper?”

  “Let me think. Yes, I did see a young man getting into the van as I was coming back with Lily. He was sort of scowling at the ticket. I can’t say I blamed him.”

  I didn’t want to scare Mr. Torres off because he seemed like a nervous guy to me so I held on to my excitement. This could be a significant lead. Casually, I pulled my notebook out of my pocket.

  “Do you remember what he looked like? How tall was he?”

  “Quite tall and he was fair with long hair. That’s why I’d say, womanish.”

  He didn’t elaborate on that and I let it ride. He himself was Mediterranean, dark-haired, lots of grey happening, but thick, cut short.

  “You say he was tall. Was he taller than me, for instance?”

  I’m five feet seven and I was looking down at Mr. Torres. Tall can mean anything to a short person.

  “I don’t remember exactly.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, now that I bring him up in my mind, he was quite tall. Not like a basketball star, you understand, but tall.”

  “Can you remember the date, Mr. Torres?”

  From inside the apartment, a shrill voice yelled something. Mother must have been standing right behind the door. He shuffled his feet in embarrassment.

  “Sorry, I’d better go. Mama wants her milk…” His voice tailed off. I got the picture but she’d have to suffer a bit longer.

  “It could be really important, Mr. Torres. Even the day of the week would be helpful.

  “Ah, that I do know. It was a Sunday for sure. I’d taken Mama to mass but I was late getting up and Lily hadn’t had her walk. So I decided to skip church and go later in the day.”

  Why did I have the feeling his mother wouldn’t have liked that?

  “And it was a month ago?

  “About that. It was still mild out. We were all remarking how mild it was for October.”

  There was another call from the other side of the door. Lily barked an answer.
r />   He shifted uneasily. “Sorry, I must go.”

  “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you, Mr. Torres.”

  Opening the door cautiously as if something feral might leap out, he slipped inside, the little dog skipping ahead of him. At least she wasn’t afraid of Mama.

  I headed back to the car, taking out my cellphone as I did, and keyed in the Centre’s phone number.

  “Janice, put me through to Ray, will you?”

  I got his voice mail and relayed the information I’d just got from Mr. Torres. “See if we can get hold of that parking ticket. It should give us the licence number of the van. But I’m betting from the description this is our guy. His name is Zachary Taylor and he is very much wanted for questioning.”

  Leo was fast asleep, his head back, mouth open, so I opened the car door carefully and slipped into my seat. Let him have a few more moments of oblivion.

  Deidre’s house was around the corner. A few cars were parked on the street but no camper van to make our lives easier. There was, however, a news van from the local TV station right outside the house. A sprightly young woman, sheltering underneath a large multi-coloured golf umbrella, was holding forth on the sidewalk. The two cameramen had covered the camera in plastic but they were getting wet. There was no way we could enter the house unobserved, but the last thing Leo needed right now was publicity. They weren’t likely to recognize me but he was often on TV giving expert opinions on forensic matters. They might know him. I grabbed my umbrella, a functional black stubby from the back seat.

  “Leo?”

  He woke up instantly. “Leo, there’s a news crew here. Take this and hold it close in. I’ll try to shield you.”

  He cussed under his breath but took the umbrella. We got out of the car and headed for the house. The sprightly person turned and I heard her saying, “The dead woman lived in this house on this quiet, peaceful street…”

  One of the crew flapped his hands at us to warn us to keep out of camera range but we kept walking, me in between Leo and the truck. At a signal from the producer, the young woman started to come towards us, her microphone held out like a wand in front of her.