Guillaume was thrilled with it. In his pleasure, with a wide grin and a wink, he poked Parker. Parker backed off, a smile forming on his lips. Guillaume stepped forward, wielded it as if it were a sword, backing Parker into the hall, where he picked up an umbrella.
“En garde.” He saluted Guillaume.
“Touché,” Guillaume responded as they touched the points of their weapons.
“Lunge!” They began to fence. Parker backed up the stairs, feeling like Errol Flynn until the umbrella fell open. They were both laughing and out of breath when they got to the top of the stairs.
It was a rare, playful domestic comedy. It had been a long time since they had laughed together. It was going to be a good Christmas.
Guillaume fell onto their bed, an obvious invitation. Parker went to have a shower. He felt buoyant, hopeful.
Guillaume sat up, and pulled a bag of cocaine from his pocket, to enhance the pleasure to come. He laid out a few lines on the top of Parker’s dresser and snorted one after another. His eye caught the newspaper clipping, peeking out from under the kid leather box that held Parker’s ivory grooming kit. The headline read: Lobster Dinner. The photograph was of a person of indeterminate sex, clothed in lobster camouflage, holding up a sign that pictured a lobster family: mom, dad and two crustacean kids sitting at a table, shredding human parts onto their plates. Mom and Dad were sucking on fingers, as if they were a delicacy.
That woman. Merde! He’s thinking of that woman again.
Guillaume grabbed the rolling pin and stalked into the bathroom. He yanked open the door to the shower stall, and went right in, fully clothed. There was an unnatural gleam in his eyes, and for a moment, Parker thought he read a terrible intent in those eyes. He dismissed it. Overexcited, thought Parker, as he turned off the water. Too much stimulation. Guillaume began to rant—accusing Parker of “seeking out that woman.” He flung accusations—that he, Guillaume, had been “bought and paid for,” but he would not put up with her in their lives. He worked himself into such a state that he began to scream and wave the pin wildly. Parker tried to release it from his hand. Guillaume pulled away, slipped on the wet floor, banged his head and knocked himself out, still clinging to the rolling pin…
The paramedics had looked puzzled by the fully-clothed man passed out in the shower cubicle. They’d have been even more intrigued if Guillaume had still been holding the French pin, but Parker had removed it. It had been an ugly episode, an embarrassing public airing of dirty linen. Most of all, it had been frightening. Still, Parker clung to the term “episode”—the word the clinic psychiatrist had used. He’d called it “an isolated psychotic episode, brought on by an overconsumption of cocaine over a long period of time.” “Highly treatable,” he’d concluded. He could smell Parker’s money and thought he could imagine the twisted tale that had brought them to the clinic. It was highly unlikely. He’d never seen a French rolling pin.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Please, call me Cam,” the Legionnaire said as they drove back to Hy’s. “Camilla is someone else.”
“Apparently,” said Hy with a frown. “So exactly who is she?”
Cam sighed. “She’s the mouthpiece of the Legion. She’s the front woman. She’s the one who meets royalty—”
“Oh, yes. Chuck and Upchuck.”
“So you saw the photograph?”
“Checked you out right after the Institute meeting. Great picture.”
Cam made a face.
“Well, it was good PR, but it didn’t get me very far. The Prince talks to plants and he’s an organic gardener, but he’s also got these really big hunting estates in Scotland. There’s a valley where people have scrubbed out a living for generations—tiny stunted root crops are all that grow there. The people live on the shady side of the valley. The sunny side is his for hunting. He’s never there.”
“So you can’t change the world. How did you get to him?”
“Him and most of the uncrowned heads of Europe. It’s my talent. My special skill.”
“The lobster tickling?”
“Is that what you call it? I like that. You watched the DVD then?”
“Both of them. You gave me two—both of you did.”
“That’s right. It was to make you think there were two of me.”
Hy smiled. “Well, it worked.”
“Anyway, all the privileged people want to see my work close up—at least, the green, environmentally conscious ones. The young set, mostly,” she added, thinking of Prince Charles. “I feel a bit like a circus monkey performing for them, but I do it to get their support. It’s why I made the DVDs. So everyone—not just the bigwigs—could see how it works.”
“It’s amazing to see, and hear. Where’d it come from?”
“I was on vacation—down south with a boyfriend a year-and-a-half ago. We were in a boat, over a rocky shoal. There were tons of lobsters in the water and two of them were fighting. I don’t know why I did it, but I stuck my hand in the water and this sound started coming out of me.
“My friend thought I was nuts, but the lobsters stopped fighting. They all stopped moving. I touched one, then another and another. I knew then. I’d been given a gift. I had to use it.”
“And the guy?”
She laughed. “Never saw him again.”
“So you started the LLL.”
“Yup.”
“Camilla’s the public persona—”
“And Cam’s the Legionnaire. She does the dirty work.”
“Two roles, two different people—both of them you. What’s the point?”
“I’m the best one to do both and I like to keep them separate. I don’t think the prince or the duchess would want to shake hands with the Legionnaire. The Legionnaire does illegal things. Camilla’s the head of an organization that does illegal things, but at arm’s length. It makes a difference to people.”
“What about the others?”
“The others?”
“The other members of the group. Where are they? What are they doing?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, we’re spread thin.”
“I’d say.” Just how thin, if Camilla—Cam—was playing two roles?
“How many, exactly, are you?”
Cam didn’t reply for a long moment. “Exactly? I couldn’t say.”
Hy could see the Hall just ahead. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, “but could you duck down?” The last thing she wanted was Moira Toombs seeing Cam in her truck. Gus, she knew, would see her going by and wonder where she’d been and what she was up to.
The precaution came too late. They had already been seen—but not by Moira nor Gus. A pair of well-aimed binoculars, offshore, had spied them leaving the cape at Bloodsucker Cove.
Hy pulled the truck right to the door of the house, leaving deep muddy tracks across her lawn.
“Wait here.” She jumped out and opened the front door, taking a quick look down the road each way. She turned and motioned Cam to come in. Cam grabbed her backpack and the vanity case and ran into the house. She dumped her baggage on the floor and looked around. The house was small and stuffed with antiques.
“Cosy.” An odd look came over her face. “What’s that smell?”
“Someone came in here and spread herring bait all over the wall in the back room. It says something. I haven’t figured it out yet. Take a look.” Hy led her through the main room. She opened the door to the back office. The smell burst out like an assault.
Cam looked inside. “Bug off cunt.’”
“What?”
Cam started laughing. “‘Bug off cunt.’ That’s what it says.”
Hy squinted at the wall. It was suddenly clear.
“You’re right, that’s what it says. So it must have been Mutt and Jeff.”
“Who?”
“The two guys who attack
ed you at the Hall.”
“You know them?”
Did no one get the reference?
“Mutt and Jeff. Cartoon characters. Tall and thin. Short and fat.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Cam, a bit vaguely. “Those guys.” She pressed her lips together, thoughtful.
“Do you know them?”
“Me? I—uh—no.” She lowered her head. “I don’t know them.” She scuffed a foot on the floor. “I don’t think I know them.”
Hy couldn’t see her face or eyes. She couldn’t see if she was telling the truth.
“We thought maybe they were here because you’re here.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know them.”
“Does ‘The Crustacean’ mean anything to you?”
Cam’s head snapped up. She looked Hy full in the eyes. She blurted it out, without thinking.
“The Crustacean? Have you seen it?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Crustacean had been keeping well out of sight, anchored on the other side of the stretch of land that stuck far out into the water and circled around protectively inward to form Big Bay Harbour. No one laid trap lines on the far side of that land mass because there was a strong current there that would have swept the lines out to sea.
The two men had a rough ride in the Zodiac as they headed out and around the tip of the point, after they spied Cam and Hy. They hadn’t decided exactly what they were going to do, but they had to do something. That was clear from Sheldon Coffin’s disgruntled call earlier in the morning.
“I don’t pay you to snore,” Coffin barked when Bill, sleep in his voice, answered the cell after ten rings. “What progress have you made?”
Bill told Coffin what they’d done so far. Sheldon’s contempt had burst down the phone line. “You’ll have to do better than that. A lot better than that. Do whatever it takes. Just get her out of there. Soon. Sooner than soon. Now.”
“The Crustacean,” Hy repeated. “You know it. Is it yours?”
Cam laughed. “No. I wish it was.”
“But you know it?”
“Yes.” Cam responded, guarded. “I’ve heard of it, anyway.”
“And…?”
“Oh—” She shook her head dismissively. “Just a boat that belongs to a company down in Maine.”
“That where you’re from?”
“Once upon a time.”
This was as hard as getting information out of Harold MacLean. Cam may have confessed—under duress—to playing a double role, but she was still keeping secrets.
“Do you think those guys are on that boat? Are they here for you, to stop your activities?”
“Maybe.”
Cam still wasn’t telling the whole truth. Hy could tell by the way she kept her eyes on the wall, refusing to look at her.
“You’re sure you don’t know them?”
“Sure.” Now she looked straight at Hy and crossed her heart. “I don’t know them any more than you do. As for the boat, just what I told you.” She looked up at the slimy message. “C’mon, let’s clean this up.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Hy said with resignation. She wouldn’t mind some help. “You’re a guest.”
“Look, I’m no guest and I feel responsible for this mess. I’m dirty now anyway, so I might as well help clean up.”
Hy didn’t argue. She knew the vandalism was payback for bringing Cam to The Shores, for helping her out of the Hall the other night. An attempt to make sure she wouldn’t do it again. Well, here she was, doing it again. The source of the trouble that had started at the Institute meeting, that had spread to the wharf, to Ben and Annabelle, and out onto the water, was now here, in her house. Well, thought Hy, I couldn’t have left her there at the cove. It was only the decent thing to do. Hy filled buckets with hot water and detergent, grabbed some cloths and scrub brushes, and together they began to wash down the walls.
“So you said you were spread thin. How thin?” An idea had been gnawing at Hy and she was determined to find out if she was right.
“Very thin,” said Cam. She kept her eyes directly on the wall in front of her, scrubbing. She seemed to withdraw into herself. Hy felt her slipping away and decided to back off. Maybe later. She had plenty more questions to ask. She wondered if Cam drank wine.
They had just finished and Cam had gone upstairs to the bath, when there was a loud knocking at the front door. Hy ran to open it. There, on the stoop, was a paper bag on fire. Hy knew the old trick from Mat Night, the night of fun and games before Hallowe’en, when kids played dirty tricks around the neighbourhood. She wasn’t going to stamp the fire out. She whirled round to find a bowl, a vase, anything. She grabbed a hat, a tightly woven straw hat. Better than nothing. She turned the tap on full blast and filled it. The hat was spilling over and leaking. She tossed the water on the flames and succeeded in partly dousing them. Another hatful put the fire out.
Liquid manure dribbled down her stairs from a soft lump of steaming cow pie, with bits of blackened paper bag stuck in it. Hy looked around. No use. Whoever had done it would now be long gone, making a getaway while the fire had distracted her. They had probably hidden behind the trees that lined her drive, then slipped into the grove behind the house and out onto Shore Lane.
Another cleanup job, Hy steamed.
This one would require a shovel. She marched to the back shed.
Annabelle was on her way to town to meet her daughter, Rowan, when she saw Hy on her hands and knees, scrubbing up the last of the mess on the stoop. Curious, she pulled into the driveway. Hy threw the scrubbing brush into the bucket and got up.
“Phew,” said Annabelle. “What’s that smell? Some new cleaning product I’m not going to buy?”
“Cow shit. It was a burning bag of cow shit. Now it’s diluted cow shit.”
“But what…who…?”
“Beats me.” Hy shrugged. “Might be some angry fishermen. Or Mutt and Jeff.”
“Mutt and Jeff?”
Here we go again, thought Hy, rolling her eyes. “The two thugs. Last night.”
Annabelle’s eyes lit up. “Of course.” She smiled. “Tall and thin. Short and fat.”
That’s why we’re friends, thought Hy.
“It could be them.” Annabelle wrinkled her brow. “It could be anyone. Our boys are pissed about what happened last night. You’d better be careful, Hy.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Well, you’ve protected that woman.”
“Annabelle…”
“I know you did what you thought you had to do, but you’re not popular right now. Some here aren’t happy you took her side. I’m one of them. I don’t agree with that woman. You know I don’t.”
“I’m just not sure—”
Annabelle cut her off. “What you think, that’s your business.” There was an edge to her voice. “Did Nathan tell you where he took her? Bloodsucker Lane?”
Hy nodded.
“Did you find her?”
“No.” It sounded uncertain. Hy was a poor liar.
“Maybe she did this.”
“She didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
Hy stared down at the concrete. “I know,” she mumbled.
The pump engaged, a loud sound that throbbed through the house and could be heard clearly outside.
Annabelle looked suddenly suspicious. Pumps only engage when someone’s using water.
“Is she here?”
“Of course not.” Hy involuntarily gulped. She always got upset like that when she was lying. Annabelle knew that about her.
“You’re not still helping her?”
“Of course not.”
There was the sound of running water from the bathroom window above the front door.
“There is someone here.”
Hy flushed. “No. Uh…no one.” Stupid answer.
“It’s not her?”
“No.”
Lying to Annabelle. She was lying to Annabelle. What made it worse was that it worked.
A knowing look came over her friend’s face. She cocked her head and smiled.
“No one? Maybe a certain someone?”
Ian. She thinks Ian’s here. Well, let her. Better than her finding out who was really in the bathroom, drawing on the pump.
“I must have left the hose running.”
The hose lay, bone dry, on the lawn. Annabelle winked.
“I’ve gotta run. I’m picking up Rowan in Charlottetown. We’re going shopping for a fancy outfit for her concert tomorrow night. We’re going to stay in town and Ben and Nathan will join us for the show. Then we’ll all stay the night at the Prince Charles Hotel.”
“Lucky you.” It was unusual for Annabelle and Ben to take time out early in the season, but Rowan was over from Halifax to give a concert in Charlottetown. Just twenty-two, she had fiddled, sung and step-danced her way to several Island and East Coast Music Awards for her CD, Celtic Wean. She was tiny and childlike—“must have been left under a cabbage,” Gus always said—but she had a mighty voice and spirit. Annabelle and Ben never missed a local show and didn’t hide their pride. They always had big smiles when they talked about Rowan or Nathan.
Hy walked with Annabelle to her car.
As she got in, Annabelle wagged a finger. “Now you behave.”
She shut the door, but poked her head out the open window.
“And steer clear of that woman.”
“Will do.” Hy felt bad about deceiving Annabelle, but she’d had no choice.
She went into the house and nailed two boards across the window frame in the back room, so that it was impossible to slide the window open. Ugly, but effective.
She thought of Eldon. I should email him, apologize about the newsletter. Get it out of the way. She sat down at her computer.
Revenge of the Lobster Page 17
