[C. MacP #4] The Devil's in the Details

by Mary Jane Maffini

  “Point taken. Time to clear the air.” I reached into the front and gently dropped forty dollars onto the passenger seat. I didn’t mention that the last person I’d bribed was lying in the morgue.

  Akbar let me off two blocks from my destination, which suited both of us. Lucky for me, since Alvin locks his doors, he now lives in the basement apartment of a converted house in the old part of Hull. Lucky for me, it has rickety old windows. Gussie and I managed to squeeze in the first window and drop to the floor. Of course, there were good reasons why Alvin’s place hadn’t been on my list of desirable hideouts. It’s always best to brace yourself before you cross his threshhold or fall through his window.

  I landed with a thump that gave me a few more stars. Gussie yelped as he followed. I yelped myself when I heard a voice. “Lord thundering Jesus, it’s Camilla. What kind of an outfit is that? Canadian Crazy?”

  Someone else said, “Very patriotic, Ms. MacPhee.”

  I lay on the floor and lost consciousness briefly at that point.

  I swam back to the sound of Mrs. Parnell saying, “We’ll have to get her to the hospital.”

  “No hospital.” I kept my eyes closed.

  “Afraid you are hors de combat, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “I’m okay. I think if I can just have a cup of tea.” Like most Cape Bretoners, I understand the healing properties of tea, hot and dark, even at the end of summer after a rough day when you are lying on the floor.

  “Tea? Splendid,” Mrs. Parnell leaned over her walker to look down at me.

  I forced my eyes open a bit and regretted it. If the unrelenting blue of the ceiling and walls was supposed to be soothing, it didn’t do the trick. Neither did the medieval chant blasting from invisible speakers. Lying on the floor should have helped me feel grounded, but there actually didn’t appear to be a floor.

  “What is this stuff?” I brushed at the white, fluffy substance surrounding my head and reaching past Alvin’s and Mrs. Parnell’s ankles. I might also have asked what the harp was doing in the corner.

  “Tea coming right up,” Alvin said, speeding his bony form toward a door. The door was blue, it should go without saying. His pony tail flicked as he disappeared into the blueness.

  “I get it. Don’t you think your new landlord will object to having the entire floor covered with cotton batting?” I managed to sit up in the hope that it would feel better. It didn’t.

  “Glimpse of the future, Ms. MacPhee. Depending on your track record.” Mrs. Parnell jammed a Benson & Hedges into her ebony cigarette holder and flicked her silver lighter.

  “My track record’s just fine, well, at least it used to be. Do you think you should be smoking so close to this flammable material? Keep in mind we are in a badly maintained wooden building in an older part of town with narrow streets.”

  Alvin emerged from somewhere blue and approached with his grandmother’s flowered teapot, two cups and a crystal sherry glass on a tray. “Orange pekoe okay with you, Camilla?”

  “The only choice. Look. All this pretense at normality is charming, but there’s nowhere to sit.”

  Of course, once the white stools and table were pointed out to me, I could see them clearly enough, just above the wispy top of the cotton batting clouds.

  Alvin bent over the tea service in a way that would have made his grandmother proud.

  “Turn off that music, will you, Alvin? It’s giving me the creeps.”

  “But it’s Carmina Burana,” Mrs. Parnell said, shocked.

  A trick of the light seemed to ring Alvin and Mrs. Parnell in a special golden glow. Or maybe that was a new symptom.

  “What do you think of Young Ferguson’s new decor?”

  “Unbelieveable.” No need to lie here.

  Alvin said, “Aw.”

  “God-given talent,” Mrs. Parnell said.

  “Hmm. Thanks for the tea, Alvin. Sorry I was late for all the launches. I can’t do the next one either. It’s a long story.”

  “No need to worry. We know what a terrible time you’ve been through.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. We heard it on the radio.”

  “Damn. You heard the police were looking for me? It’s better if you don’t know.”

  Mrs. Parnell said, “I don’t believe we know.”

  Alvin said. “Know what? Come on, Camilla. Do you think we could let you down?”

  “If the cops find out you hid me, you might be able to convince them you did it innocently, but you’ll spend time at the station first.”

  “But where would you go?” Alvin said. “There’s a Canada-wide warrant out for you. Not that we know that.”

  “All for one and one for all,” Mrs. Parnell said, pouring her sherry. “We apologize abjectly for putting you under pressure to be at the launches.”

  I said. “I can’t expect you to take chances.”

  “We are more than fair-weather friends,” Mrs. Parnell said. “Something’s afoot, and we will assist you to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Anyway, since when do you mind us taking chances?” Alvin said.

  “Okay. You’ll be more useful if I can call you when I need you. If I could count on that, it would be great. You won’t be any good to anyone if you get arrested.”

  “She might have a point,” Alvin said. “I really hate jail.”

  “It’s nearly five. So head off to your launch and . . .”

  “But . . .” Alvin said.

  “Out of the question,” Mrs. Parnell said.

  “I’ll use the time to make some phone calls. My cellphone was stolen. Did I mention that? I need to track down some people. I also need to get a bit of sleep. I’ll figure out where to go next, and I’ll keep you in the loop. That way if the police do find me, they won’t also find you. Remember, I broke in here.”

  They looked at each other.

  I said. “The sooner you skedaddle, the sooner I get to sleep.”

  I didn’t like the way they hesitated.

  “If you want to do the right thing, do what I ask. We’ll all be better off. Especially me.”

  “At least take this,” Mrs. Parnell said, handing me her cellphone. “That way you don’t have to worry if they bug our land lines. We’ll use Young Ferguson’s cell.”

  I was about to say, I didn’t think they’d be bugging the phones, since that requires a special warrant. But stranger things were happening.

  “Thanks.” Mrs. Parnell’s phone was state of the art, video included and all. I wasn’t surprised.

  “Two other things,” I said. “When you go home, Mrs. P., things are in a bit of a state. Lester and Pierre broke out.”

  She chuckled. “I wondered if they might outfox you, the scamps.”

  So that wasn’t too bad. “And I borrowed some of your clothes.”

  “Glad to be of assistance, Ms. MacPhee. Young Ferguson and I felt we’d let you down. We mustn’t get too caught up in our own selfish interests.”

  “And if it’s all right, I might leave Gussie here. He limits my options. And he needs someone to walk and feed him. I’m sure your landlord won’t find out, Alvin.”

  I was proud that I never mentioned the fact that Gussie is actually a Ferguson dog and by rights should have been Alvin’s responsibility rather than mine, landlord or no landlord. Considering all the talk of friendship, all for one and one for all, comrades to the end.

  “Someone needs to feed your cat, too, Mrs. P.”

  In the end, I thought they’d never leave.

  Twenty-Eight

  First things first. Turn off the music. Stop head throbbing. Find Alvin’s phone. I didn’t want to waste the charge on Mrs. Parnell’s. I looked around. Knowing Alvin, the phone would be blue or white to disappear into the decor. Eventually I found a white phone buried in the cotton clouds.

  I fished the scrap of paper with Bianca’s government number out of my pocket. “You have reached the voice mail of Bianca Celestri. Please leave a message after the beep. Merci. Bonjour
. . .” The message was repeated in French as per policy.

  I put down the phone and copied down Celestri. So far, so good. Maybe things were looking up.

  Jasmine was next. Maybe she knew who Chelsea was supposed to meet.

  “Leave me alone,” she screamed as soon as I identified myself. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Why? What good will that do? I didn’t hurt anyone. I just need some information from you,” I said to the dial tone.

  Fine.

  I crawled around Alvin’s apartment looking for a telephone book. Five minutes later, I found one, covered in blue. I had to ask myself, if Alvin had time to do this, why the hell couldn’t he update the goddam mailing lists at Justice for Victims?

  There was one Celestri, B. I copied down the street address. It took a while, because my head was spinning, but so far, so good. Next, I needed to check my home messages, in case P.J. had called with something useful. But the spinning head was causing my stomach to turn. I closed my eyes. Sleep might be the answer. Just a little sleep. Right after that, I’d check my messages and pay a surprise visit to Bianca whoosit. I flopped on Alvin’s blue and white cloud patterned bedspread and slept long and hard.

  I was awakened by nudges and wet kisses. I opened one eye. Gussie was giving me the universal dog symbol for needing a walk. Even if he hadn’t been licking my face, a quick sniff of the air would have told me the same thing.

  “You’ve had your last doughnut, buddy,” I said. “Before we go, let me check my messages. Maybe the coast is clear, and we can go home, and you can chase the cat.”

  Gussie regarded me with his head on his paws as I checked the messages. He looked sort of cute, lying on the low cloud cover.

  The messages were not so cute. I had seven from my sisters. I deleted them as fast as I could. Plus there were a couple of old ones from Mrs. Parnell and Alvin. P.J. had called, asking me to call him ASAP. Even Mombourquette had left a message. The only surprise call was one from my favourite old client, Bunny Mayhew, wishing me luck. Bless his criminous little heart.

  “Wow, Camilla, this is Bunny, saying hi. That is serious stuff you got going down. If I can help you out anyways, let me know, eh. Tonya sends her best wishes. Oh yeah, my phone’s the same first three numbers as yours and then, you’re really going to laugh, L-I-F-T. Is that cool or what? Tonya thinks I should find a new word now, because I’m going straight, but, it’s like a good memento.”

  There you go, I thought, sentiment takes many different forms.

  The last message was from Elaine.

  “Listen closely, Camilla. I don’t know how to reach you, but this is my one call, so I hope you get it. I have been arrested. If you get this message, can you call Nina Pfeffer. She’s the lawyer for WAVE. Her home number is in the book. I would have called her but, as I said, I just get the one call. They keep asking me where you went and what your plans are. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t know the answers. Excuse me? What do you mean my time’s up? My time is not up. Holy moly, I’m just leaving a message for my lawyer. I am not hogging the line. What? Hey . . .”

  Oh, shit.

  I looked up Nina Pfeffer in the phone book.

  Of course, she wasn’t home, it being the Labour Day Weekend and all, but I gamely left a message anyway.

  There were a couple of hang-ups just to keep me guessing.

  I located my backpack with the supply of plastic bags, dropped the cellphone into it, slapped on the tourist disguise and took Gussie for the overdue walk. There’s a strip of parkland in the old section of Hull not too far from Alvin’s place. I figured the walk might help settle my head and give me some idea of what to do for Elaine. If anyone could piss off the police and the Crown and get a couple of extra charges laid against her, and maybe me, it would be Elaine.

  I had a feeling her family was in Florida, so that wasn’t the answer. I didn’t even know her mother’s new last name. I wasn’t sure Elaine did either. I didn’t know if her brother, Eddy, still lived in Canada.

  I stumbled along after Gussie, thinking my way through the fog. Gussie delivered big-time and efficiently. I guess that was good. I desperately needed to get back to Alvin’s apartment.

  As we turned the corner, I saw the one thing I didn’t want to. Rooflights flashing. City of Gatineau police, rather than Ottawa. But then, that’s the thing about a Canada-wide warrant. Everybody gets in on the fun.

  Gussie and I turned down the first alley and got as far away as we could. To add to my crimes, I ditched the plastic bag in a nearby dumpster.

  Five minutes later, we were blending in with the tourists at the Museum of Civilization. I got Youssef on the phone and asked to be picked up.

  “Akbar wasn’t all that happy about you,” Youssef said.

  “What is this, a popularity contest? I suppose he didn’t mention the tip. Fine, I’ll call someone else.”

  “Nothing to worry about. Akbar’s a bit touchy, but he’s off duty now. Now, it’s my cousin Faroud.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hadn’t asked about the dog. Good.

  In the five minutes it took Faroud to show up, I had figured out where I was going next. If the cops had arrested Elaine at Maisie’s, then the Pathfinder was probably still in the parking lot. I was banking on finding the spare keys.

  My nagging worry was, how did the police know to look at Alvin’s place? Had one of my family members squealed? I found that hard to believe. Had the police interviewed Alvin and Mrs. P. and broken through their defenses? Maybe Elaine had fingered them; there’s often a bit of tension there. I discounted that idea. Elaine would have her fingernails pulled out before she’d give the police any useful information. General principles.

  Faroud, when he showed up, didn’t blink at Gussie. He had the Holly Cole CD playing. That meant no pesky radio bulletins to give him ideas. It was a short drive back to the market. I was still fishing around in the backpack for my cash when we got there.

  “Not that it’s my business, miss,” he said, “but you should do something about that dog’s diet.”

  “Really? You a vet?”

  He didn’t like that. I saw him narrow his eyes at me through the rear view mirror. “No, I am not a veterinarian, but I do have a functioning nose.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. It’s a problem.”

  I removed my red sunglasses and kept digging for money. It was a bit hard to locate specific items with all those multiple images. Eventually, I fished out a ten-dollar bill and thrust it at him.

  “You need a receipt?” he said.

  “No, and keep the change.” I said. The sooner I got out of the cab and into the Pathfinder, the better.

  He turned around and looked straight at me. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m all right,” I said, with remarkable dignity for a person dressed as Captain Canada with the world’s stinkiest dog as sidekick.

  “One of your pupils is quite dilated. I think you should seek medical attention. Would you like me to drive you to a hospital?”

  “You a doctor?”

  “Yes, in fact, I am. Maybe not in this country, but with eight years of training and solid post-grad work too. Good idea to listen to me.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go to the walk-in clinic.”

  “No. Go straight to Emergency. You probably need a CAT scan. I’ll take you if you want. On the house.”

  “Used to be everyone was a comedian. Now everyone’s a doctor.”

  That didn’t go down well. “Perhaps you should show a bit of respect,” he said with a flash of anger in his dark eyes.

  “With all due respect, I think you should mind your own business.”

  Okay, so that was rude of me, and the guy was just being a compassionate and competent human being, but hospitals are always crawling with cops, and they’d be on the lookout.

  I felt Faroud’s black eyes on me as I rounded the corner. I looked back to see if he could see me head into the parking garage. But it looked like the c
oast was clear.

  What is it about these garages? They’re so disorienting. Even without a concussion, how does anyone find their car, figure how to pay the parking and then work their way out of the maze? To make matters worse, the evening light was starting to dim.

  Eventually, I spotted the Pathfinder. Dusty as ever. I made a couple of guesses where the spare keys might be. No luck under the driver’s door. No luck on the underside of the front bumper. When I tried the rear bumper, I hit the jackpot. That Elaine. Good thing she had insurance.

  The next challenge was using the automated payment system to get my exit ticket. Elaine had left the ticket in the Pathfinder, which you’re not supposed to do. I blessed her.

  Just to be safe, I bent down to the garage floor surface and picked up enough grit and dirt to smear the license plates. Not to be obvious, just enough to obscure the numbers. Paranoia, a person could get used to it.

  For a few minutes, I sat in the Pathfinder and tried to concentrate, and to see without all the extra images. I used the time to call Mombourquette. Why should he miss out on all the fun?

  “Lennie! I hope I didn’t call you in from the garden, but . . .”

  “This is a dangerous game you’re playing. Have you lost your mind, Camilla?”

  “Why are you yelling? I thought we were buddies now.”

  “There’s a Canada-wide warrant for your arrest, and everyone is worried sick. Your sisters had to take Valium.”

  “Really? That’s probably good for them.”

  “Can you be serious? They’re afraid the shock will kill your father.”

  That was hitting below the belt. “You tell them, Lennie, to make damn sure he doesn’t find out. He’s eighty-one years old, and quite deaf, and if they have half a brain in total, they’ll leave him at the cottage with a keeper but no radio.”

  “I think that’s what happened. They’re afraid he’ll find out somehow.”

  “Maybe they should give him credit for not believing this crap.”

  “That you’re wanted in the killings of Laura Brown and Chelsea O’Keefe?”