We went out to swap the cars.
“Oh, by the way,” she said. “I spoke to Louise today. You have an appointment to see her at two tomorrow afternoon.”
“Great, thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
She kissed me on the mouth, grinned at me, and waggled her fanny as she walked to her Mini.
Part II
Chapter 13
Monday morning, before leaving the house to pick up the new phone from Gil Maxwell, I went into Rocky’s studio. She was sitting at her drawing board, staring out the conservatory windows into the back garden. Some kind of avant-garde post-rock music was playing. There was a CD jewel case on top of her little Sony shelf stereo, a band called Godspeed You! Black Emperor. I’d never heard of them. The track playing sounded like an orchestra tuning up.
“Are you going to need the car today?” I said.
“No …”
“But?”
“I’ll need it later this week to transport these things”—she gestured toward the array of bizarre figures—“to the gallery.”
“No problem,” I said.
When I got to Gil Maxwell’s office, Mindy smiled at me and sent me straight through to the back. Gil was leaning over the shoulder of the programmer with the streaked hair, glaring at the screen of her computer. He looked up and waved toward his office.
“Be with you in a minute,” he said, then returned his attention to the woman’s screen. “Look,” I heard him say as I went into his office. “Figure it out. I don’t care if it takes you all fucking day, but get it fixed, for Chrissake.”
“Problems?” I said, when he came into the office.
“Just the usual last minute glitches,” he said.
I placed the cellphone charger and cables on the desk. “You don’t really need to give me another phone, you know.”
“I know, but I want to.” He handed me an iPhone, as well as a small white plastic block and a white charging cable. “I know it looks a little beat up, but it works fine.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He told me the passcode, then said, “I transferred your call history from the other phone and added Nina, me, Terry Jardine and your mother’s landline to your contact list. I’m afraid the number’s different, though.”
“I didn’t have the other phone long enough for it to matter.”
“Look,” he said, as I was about to leave. “About yesterday … Like I said, I don’t really blame Terry for what her husband did. Even though I find it hard to believe she didn’t know about it, I accept the possibility. I mean, she was always pretty self-centred, wasn’t she? I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t know what he was up to.”
He was full of crap, projecting aspects of his own personality on to Terry. Even when we were kids, the only thing that had ever mattered to Gil Maxwell had been Gil Maxwell. But I didn’t want to get into it with him.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I liked her and thought what you did to her was pretty shabby.” He wasn’t the only one. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her, but it’s hard for me to get past what happened to my dad. And what if she did know what Brandt was up to?”
“I think I know her better than you do, Gil,” I said. “She would’ve blown the whistle on him at the first hint he was defrauding his clients. She feels a lot of guilt about what he did to those people, including your father.” I told him about Fredrick Strom’s attack. “She could have pressed charges, but she didn’t. She understood. His mother was one of her husband’s victims.”
“I know who he is,” he said.
“I guess you do. Anyway, thanks for the phone.”
“No problem. And, look, I’m sorry if I said anything that pissed you off. You are my oldest friend, after all.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, feeling magnanimous.
“I’m sorry about the money, too. But you’re going to have to give me a little more time.”
“That,” I said, less magnanimously, “you can worry about.”
During lunch the day before, Terry had given me the name of an assisted living facility in the town of Sainte-Anne-de-Bellevue at the western end of the island of Montreal, where her grandmother had spent the final years of her life. “It’s not exactly cheap,” she’d said, “but it’s as nice as you’re going to get without spending an arm and a leg.” Which was good, I’d told her, because I couldn’t really
afford both. So, after leaving Gil Maxwell’s office, I checked the place out. I wasn’t sure I’d go so far as to call it “nice” but it was the best I’d seen so far in the middling price range. Moreover, the waiting list was only six months or so, to which the manager said she’d be pleased to add my mother’s name for a reasonable refundable deposit. I told her I’d get back to her, collected a handful of brochures and forms, and went out to the parking lot. Lawrence Thomason was leaning against the side of the Volvo. He stood away from the car as I approached. He was wearing a grey sharkskin suit, tailored to the width of his shoulders, and an oxford shirt, open at the throat.
“Hey, Riley, how’re you doing?” he said, smiling, thrusting out a hand.
“Fine,” I said, wondering what the hell he was doing there. It couldn’t be a coincidence, I was sure. “How about you?”
“Oh, fine, fine,” he said, holding my hand a couple of beats longer than necessary, looking me in the eye. “Peachy. Couldn’t be better.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said, retrieving my hand. “What can I do for you? Do you know someone staying here?”
“What? Here? No, no. I just thought we should have a little talk, is all.”
“And you just happened to run into me.” I found the intensity of his gaze disconcerting.
“Well, no,” he said, making short chopping motions with his hands. “To be honest, I was on my way to see Terry when I saw you go by—this car is pretty
conspicuous—and followed you here.”
“Because you thought we needed to have a little talk.” If he heard the sarcasm in my voice, he didn’t show it.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“About what?”
“I think we might’ve got off on the wrong foot the other night.”
“Really? What makes you think that?”
“Well, you know,” he said. “That Fred Strom guy. He got what was coming to him, for what he did.” He shrugged, made more weird chopping motions. “But, well, yeah, maybe I was a little rough on him.”
“Then you should be talking to him, not me.”
“What? You mean, like I should apologize to him? Please. He got off easy. He’s lucky I’ve got a lot of self-control.”
“Yes,” I said. “He certainly is.” Irony was wasted on him, slid off him as though his suit were made of Teflon.
“Anyway, no hard feelings, eh? I mean, we should be friends. We’ve got a lot in common, you and me. We’re both men of the world, right? We’ve been around. Seen a lot. We both know what it’s all about, don’t we? What makes people tick. I bet you do pretty good with the ladies, too,” he added. “Even with that busted-up look. Maybe even because of it.”
I was getting an uneasy feeling about Lawrence Thomason. There was something off about him. Not just the cold blue gaze and way he chopped the air with his hands as he spoke. Something about him just didn’t ring true. The good-buddy routine was almost laughably phoney. I made a mental note to speak to Louise Desjardins about the background check she’d had Nina run on him.
“No hard feelings at all,” I said. “But you’re going to have to excuse me. There are a couple more places I want to look at this morning.”
“I thought maybe we could get a coffee or a drink someplace.”
“Why?”
“Well, I want to talk to you about Terry.”
“Terry? What about her?�
��
“Don’t get me wrong. I mean, she’s a great gal, a knockout, as well as smart and funny and talented. I like her a lot. But she’s, well, a little naive, isn’t she?”
“I’m not sure I’d call her naive,” I said.
“Well, maybe that isn’t the right word. I guess what I meant was, she needs someone to look out for her, you know, to make sure no one takes advantage of her.”
“That’s what you’re doing, is it? Looking out for her, making sure I’m not taking advantage of her?”
“I didn’t necessarily mean you,” he said.
“Who did you mean?”
“No one in particular. Anyone in general. That Sparrow woman, for instance. No offence, but she’s a real piece of work, if you know what I mean.”
I couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “I know what you mean. You know she’s my friend, though, don’t you?”
“Terry told me you and her go way back. But, like I said, I meant no offence. She’s a hot little number, looks great on stage, although I don’t much care for the tats and stuff. But she’s not as good a friend as Terry thinks.”
“You think Nina’s taking advantage of Terry?”
“Terry didn’t have anything to do with her husband’s Ponzi scheme, you know.”
“If you’re suggesting that Nina thinks she did,” I said, “you’re wrong.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “But there’s a lot of money missing and there are people who think Terry knows where it is.” He peered at me from beneath beetled brows. “As far as I know, you’re one of them.”
“Funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing about you, Larry.”
He scowled at my use of the diminutive of his name. “I guess what I’m telling you is that if you’re thinking she knows anything about where that money is, and you’re figuring to cut yourself a piece of some kind of action, think again.”
I had to restrain myself from laughing. I didn’t think Lawrence Thomason was the kind of person who would react well to being laughed at.
“Are you threatening me, Larry?” I said.
“Who, me?” He shook his head and chopped the air. “No, no. Look, I guess I could’ve said that better. I like Terry, she’s a good friend, means a lot to me, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to her. Okay, I get it. You and her used to be close. But you haven’t been around much lately, have you? It’s been what, twenty years, since you and her were together? I didn’t mean to scare you or anything, but I don’t want to see her taken advantage of. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Sure. I understand. I don’t want to see her taken advantage of, either. And don’t worry, Larry. It takes a lot more than that to scare me.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re not the kind of guy who scares easy. Me either. But I wasn’t threatening you. I was, well, just giving you fair warning that I’d be real upset if Terry got hurt in some way. Anybody who hurt her or took advantage of her would have me to deal with. Like I said, I kind of like you, but if you did anything to hurt Terry, you’d just earn yourself a real good thrashing.”
“Now that,” I said, looking him in the eye, “sounded an awful lot like a threat to me. I don’t like being threatened, Larry. It makes me irritable. Especially when there’s no justification for it. But I’m going to put it down to bad manners or poor social skills. Maybe you are genuinely concerned about Terry. So am I. But given what she’s been through she’s proven she can manage on her own. She doesn’t need protection. Yours or mine.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he said. “I guess I just got carried away. I mean, I don’t know you, do I?”
“No, you don’t,” I said. “And I don’t know you. For instance, how long have you worked for Excel Wood Products?”
“Eh? Oh. I haven’t worked there in a couple of years.”
“So you gave me an old business card on Friday night, then.”
“Did I? I guess I gave it to you by mistake.”
“What do you do now?”
“Oh,” he said, shrugging with his hands. “You know. A little of this, a little of that. I guess you could call me a consultant.”
“What kind of consulting?”
“You name it, I can do it.”
“Management, marketing, home decorating?”
“I’ve done it all,” he said, unfazed. He stuck out his hand again, smiling. But his eyes were hard and cold, like dark glass marbles. “Gotta go. Nice talking to you. Let’s do it again sometime, ’kay? Maybe over a beer or two.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said, gripping Thomason’s hand and giving it a hard squeeze.
“Great,” he said, withdrawing his hand. Still smiling, he got into his leased BMW and drove out of the parking lot.
As I watched him drive away, I knew how Alice must have felt, trying to make sense of the Mad Hatter. Something was going on. Whatever it was, I didn’t think it was likely to be good. Suddenly, I was more worried about Terry than I really had any right to be. However, as Nina had said, I did owe her.
Chapter 14
After lunch with Rocky and my mother, I dug slacks and a corduroy sport coat out of my closet, shook out the creases, and got dressed. Dumping wallet, phone, notebook and other essentials into an old canvas book bag, a little more workaday than my daypack, I walked to the Villa-Maria metro station at the eastern end of Monkland Avenue. Twenty minutes later I emerged from the McGill station into the midday rush and smut of downtown Montreal. Early for my appointment with Louise Desjardins, I wandered along rue Sainte-Catherine, breathing exhaust fumes, giving away my loose change to an aromatic gent with a handwritten sign that read “Too ugly for prostitution,” and admiring the new crop of office and shop girls. I almost fell into a worksite excavation when I was distracted by a pair of astonishingly lovely eyes, dark-lashed, almond-shaped and the colour of molten jade. They belonged to a woman wear wearing a niqab, leaving only her eyes exposed. I let my imagination fill in the rest.
As the appointed hour approached I rode the elevator to the twentieth floor of Place Ville-Marie and presented myself to the receptionist at Roche-Desjardins LLP. I was promptly escorted into the presence of Louise Desjardins.
Louise seemed not to have changed a bit in the four years since I’d last seen her. Shaped like a five-foot hourglass, she was an attractive, zaftig woman. Her hair was dirty blond and cropped close to her skull, and her eyes were big and blue. Smiling, she came around her desk and held out a small, square hand. When I took it, she covered my hand with her left hand and squeezed.
“It is good to see you again, Riley,” she said, gesturing toward one of the wingback chairs facing her desk.
“Likewise,” I said, sitting down, setting my bag on the floor at my feet. “How are you?”
She sat in the other chair, crossing her ankles, feet barely reaching the floor, dark skirt moulding to her round thighs. “Very well, thank you,” she said. “Busy.” Her smiled broadened, crow’s feet nesting her eyes. “But not so busy I cannot spare some time for my favourite knight-errant.”
“Thanks,” I said, returning her smile. “But I haven’t slain many dragons lately. Or rescued many damsels. Dragons are an endangered species, and most damsels these days seem quite capable of taking care of themselves.”
“Merde,” she said. “I wish I had more time, but I have to prepare for a court appearance. Nina said you were interested in coming back to work for us. I have nothing for you at the moment, but something will turn up, I am sure. I will have to clear it with Denis, of course, but that will not be a problem.” She smiled. “For some reason he likes you. Margot, on the other hand, maybe not so much. Jean-Claude’s life has spiralled out of control since the, ah, incident.”
“How is Denis?” I said.
“Practising more golf than law these days, but healthy as a horse. I will give him your regards.”
“Yes, please.”
“Nina has your particulars?”
“Yes,” I said, standing as she stood. I offered my hand.
She clicked her tongue and grasped both my hands. I bent as she stood on tiptoe to exchange a two-cheek kiss. She linked arms with me as she walked me out to the reception area.
“You know Teresa Jardine, n’est-ce pas?” she said.
“I had lunch with her yesterday,” I said. “But I’m not sure I can say I really know her. Until Friday night I hadn’t seen her in twenty years. Will it be a problem?”
“No, no. In fact, it might be an asset. You are aware of her situation?”
“Yes.”
“She has had a very difficult time these last three years and could use a friend.”
I told her about my conversation with Frank Gendron.
“Yes, Nina informed me he was a friend of the family, as well as your mother’s avocat.”
“Are the police as close to locating Brandt as he implied?” I asked.
“Not that I’m aware,” she said. “He seems to have disappeared quite effectively, for someone who by all
accounts is of only average intelligence.”
“I’m also concerned about Terry’s relationship with Lawrence Thomason,” I said. “I had a very strange conversation with him this morning. He’s, well, an unusual man.”
“So Nina feels also,” Louise said. “I’ve never met him, but despite your and Nina’s characterization of him, our background check, although not especially thorough, gave us no reason to believe he has misrepresented himself to Terry, that he has anything but her best interests at heart.” She smiled up at me. “Je suis désolée, Riley, but I must get ready for court tomorrow. I will be in touch.”
She kissed me again and went back into her office. I hoped her assessment of Lawrence Thomason was more accurate than mine.
The Evil That Men Do Page 11
