“I guess,” I said.
My cellphone pealed out “Desperado”, proving once again that you should never leave Alvin alone with a piece of your equipment.
“Sorry,” I said to Hazel, “I know this is rude. I have to take it in case they've found her.”
“Go right ahead, sweetie. I'll just get you some more coffee. I see you've enjoyed the shortbread.”
Was it my fault I'd missed a few meals? “Hello? That you, Conn?” Alvin's voice crackled over the receiver. “Camilla? They've found out where Violet's gone.”
I jumped to my feet and shouted, “That's wonderful.”
“Not really. Better get your butt back here. Fast.”
14 Bridge Street
Chesterton, Ontario
May 30, 1944
Dear Violet,
Thank you for your lovely letter of condolence. I knew you were a special friend to Perce, as so many people were. I cannot believe that he will not be coming back. It does not surprise me that he died a hero's death trying to save his comrades. He was a very special person, and the most wonderful brother to me and son to my mother. I am able to bury myself in my teaching duties. However, I do not believe that Mother will recover from this terrible blow. She is a shadow of herself and rarely leaves her room. I have had to resign my teaching position in Toronto and return home to care for her. Now with the war finally winding down, and an Allied victory likely, it seems so unfair that Perce will not be coming back. He had such big plans.
I am sorry to have to say this, Violet. You must send a note to Hazel to tell her not to spread rumours about you. She's writing to several boys overseas, saying you have lots of beaux, including a handsome officer. What nonsense! She knows perfectly well that you are engaged to Harrison Jones. What will his father think if he hears such rumours from some other boy's parents? The poor man is like a ghost anyway. Hazel has no idea of the value of a person's reputation. I know you will think Hazel means no harm, but I'm not so sure she's not motivated by jealousy. I gave her a good talking to, and I think you should mention it too! Where will she stop otherwise?
This has been such a cruel, cruel war in so many ways.
Sincerely,
Betty
Seven
Hazel stopped in the doorway, her pink lipstick framing a hesitant, hopeful smile. I gave her a little wave.
“Where is she now?” I said into the phone.
“That's why you have to get your butt back here.”
“Please, Alvin, give me a straight answer. Did you tell her we've been worried sick?”
“We didn't talk to her. That's just it. If you'd let me…”
“Well, did Conn talk to her?”
“No. Let me finish. We're a team, remember?”
I slumped back onto the sofa. “Has something happened to her?”
“I don't know, because she's gone to friggin’ Italy.”
“Italy!”
“She flew to Milan from Toronto.”
“You're kidding.”
Hazel topped up her G & T and listened wide-eyed.
“Can they have someone meet the plane and make sure she's okay?”
“They can't.”
“Why the hell not? Is that just more bureaucratic pigheadedness? I hope you told Conn to make sure they did that. You'd think after all these years in major crimes, he'd be able to make a sensible decision.”
“Calm yourself. I'm the one who gets hysterical.”
“Okay, I'm calm.”
“They can't meet her, because the plane has already landed, and she's deplaned. They don't know where she is,” Alvin wailed.
“I'm on my way.”
Hazel stood up, wringing her tiny, manicured hands. “What on earth has happened to Vi?”
“She's hopped a plane to Italy. Milan to be exact. She's gotten off the plane, and no one knows where she is.”
Hazel managed a nervous smile. “Is that all? You had me scared to death, sweetie. I'd like to do that myself. Italy's a civilized country, and Vi's a sharp cookie. What are you carrying on about?”
I shrugged into my rain jacket. “She's not acting like herself. The doctor is worried about a full-blown heart attack. She's going to have to watch to ensure she doesn't do herself any harm.”
“Sweetie, when you get to our age, and you stare down the long corridor and see your future, you think about doing things while you can. Don't be a party pooper. Let Vi have her adventure.”
“She can have all the adventures she wants. I just want her to be safe. And if she'd spoken directly to us, we wouldn't be so worried. Why would she go by herself? To Italy, of all places. All those hills, that can't be good for her.”
“Vi has the right to make these decisions, even if you don't like them, or don't find them convenient. Tough bananas. Anyway, that's Vi. She joined the army without a moment's hesitation. We were all absolutely flabbergasted.”
“This is more dangerous,” I said.
“Hardly,” Hazel laughed. “At that time, Italy really was dangerous. A lot of our boys didn't come back from there. Including our friend, Perce. Now every wobbly old senior like me can stagger around snapping pictures and shouting at each other. I should know. I've been three times. The worst that can happen is that street urchins steal your passport.”
I hesitated at the door. “What about this Harrison?”
Her face clouded. “You mean Harry Jones? He was seriously wounded, it was terrible. He made it through the war though. He was something special, so handsome. Very fine character. Except, of course, he jilted Vi and stayed over there in England. It was a shame really. It was the only thing he ever did that wasn't just lovely. I suppose this English girl just knocked him off his feet. Love can take a person that way.”
This love chat was another one of those digressions I didn't have time for. I had to get the hell home. “Is he still alive?”
“I don't know. I never stayed in touch with him.” Hazel had two little pink spots on her cheeks. Guilt or G & Ts? No way to tell.
“I hope you're right about Mrs. Parnell. Some people think we're overreacting.”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “Vi is lucky to have a friend like you. Let me know what happens. I might not be able to ever sleep again otherwise. I'll help out any way I can.”
“I'll call you,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”
* * *
A word of advice: if you are clocked by the OPP doing 145 klics on Highway 416, don't count on the fact that your elderly friend has disappeared in Italy to get you out of a two hundred and ninety-five dollar fine. The OPP officer might take unnecessary pleasure in pointing out you've just lost four points to boot. He might even smirk at the insurance implications.
Life's like that.
I burst through the door of my house, to be welcomed joyously by Gussie and the little calico cat. If you're ever feeling down about yourself, I recommend borrowing pets. Alvin might also have welcomed his returning team member, but he was too busy pacing.
“It was bad enough when we didn't know where she was in Canada,” he bleated.
“The message light is blinking,” I said.
“Well, you refused to give me your code,” he sniffed. “Not really team spirit, Camilla.”
I keyed in the code and heard Ray's voice.
Beep. “Ray here. How does Costa Rica sound? Beaches, rainforests. I can get us a good deal. Listen, about tracking your Mrs. Parnell, I spoke to your brother-in-law, Conn. He said he got the info from the airlines. You probably already know she's in Italy. They'll track her down. Let me know as soon as she turns up, and I'll book our trip. And if you have to wait until she's in better shape, I'm good with that too.”
Beep. “Dr. Hasheem here. I got your message. In my opinion, it would be extremely risky for your grandmother to fly anywhere, let alone overseas. She must not be under stress. In fact, she should be monitored in a cardiac unit. I can't imagine you would even consider air travel for her in her condition.”
* * *
Here's a practical suggestion: make sure you keep your passport up to date, in case you have to sprint for the first available flight to Italy. I had mine. Alvin didn't. That explained why he was fussing.
My heart was still thundering since hearing the price of my return ticket. I needed one that was flexible in case I had to turn right around. You have to be prepared to pay for flexibility. Never mind. You can't take it with you. The first flight I could get was the next afternoon. Air Canada, connecting through Frankfurt on Lufthansa. When I saw the price, I figured it had to be business class. At least I could stretch out overnight. Silly me.
“Look,” I said to Alvin for the fifth time, after I'd swallowed hard and booked my ticket online. “It's really a good thing. We need you here to talk to witnesses, try to track down her colleagues in CWAC, keep the lines of communication open, walk the dog, feed the cat and change the television channel for the lovebirds. It's a team effort. If you had your passport, you could go Italy, and I would stay here.” This was an outright lie. Alvin let it slide.
“They bit me when I fed them. Ingrates. Look at that.” He held out a finger with two triangular bite marks.
“Ouch. I know how you feel—the ticket is going to take a chunk out of my savings when the credit card bill comes in.” I had money in the bank, legally mine, even though I wasn't comfortable spending it, for complicated reasons. I didn't mention it, but at the rate I was spending, with no income coming in, I'd need a job that actually paid something one of these days. It didn't bear thinking about. I never really got the hang of taking orders from people. Legal aid work beckoned, if I wasn't careful. Of course, this wasn't the time to be careful. This was the time to find my friend. No expense spared.
“I have a real physical injury, not a bite in the bank book. At least you have an account,” Alvin said, still extending his finger. “Fine, I'll do my best for the team. You go to Italy, you find out about Violet, and I'll stay here and be torn apart by small vicious birds.”
And dragged though the rain and sleet by Gussie and maybe smothered by the calico cat, I thought. Instead, I said kindly, “Looks like that finger might get infected. You're way better here with Medicare.”
“I hate being in Violet's apartment. It makes me too sad.”
“Tell you what, bring the lovebirds to my place, Alvin. You can keep up with the Justice for Victims incoming mail, and you don't have to keep running from your place to mine to Mrs. P.'s. You'll be freer.”
He sniffed. It's an unappealing sound, but you get used to it if you're around Alvin long enough. “Maybe if I can get the house settled a bit. It needs to be organized and decorated, and I'm very good at that.”
“Please don't touch a single thing. I truly, deeply mean that. I'm still reeling from the Mikado theme in your latest apartment. By the way, what did the tapes turn up?”
“What tapes?” Alvin said.
I kept my voice nice and teamlike. “The security tapes from her building. The ones you went over to see.”
“Right. I'm just distracted because I'm being abandoned here to do all the joe jobs, while you go waltzing through the great monuments of Italy. I studied that stuff, you know. I should be there with Violet. It's going to be totally wasted on you.”
“I'm sure you're right,” I said. “And you should go. Start by getting your passport. When you do go to Italy, I hope it won't be under these circumstances. I won't be visiting galleries and cathedrals. I'll be searching for Mrs. P. Now let's think about those tapes. They could tell us about the guy with the box.”
“First of all, there are no tapes.”
“What do you mean, no tapes? They have all those cameras. What's that about?”
“It's some kind of digital recording system. Goes right to the computer.”
“Okay, that's no big deal. I thought you meant there was no record of who entered the building.”
“The Super said he had to get permission from the building's management before he could show them. That would take time.”
“Did he now.”
I whipped out my cellphone and dialled. I'd spent many years in that building, and I knew the super's number by heart. I also knew what a wuss he was.
“Camilla MacPhee here,” I said. “Look, I've got the press breathing down my neck. They've got wind of the fact that your building management won't let the family view the security tapes. How do you want to handle that?”
The Super squeaked in alarm.
I said, “You know what they're like. Hounds. They'll love the optics of ‘elderly woman missing while wealthy, corrupt landlords impede search’, that kind of thing. I'm no great lover of the building's owners, since I got turfed out of my apartment, so don't expect that I'll be standing up for them. I imagine you'll see the Citizen photographers showing up soon. What? Oh. I understand completely. I'm sure they are extremely busy people and really hard to get hold of. Of course, I'm a lawyer, and I do understand privacy issues. The media can be so unclear on them.”
I smirked when I hung up. “I bet he hadn't even asked them yet. Let's give it an hour. He'll be putty in your hands, Alvin.”
“I can't wait,” Alvin said. “Staring at empty staircases and deserted foyers for hours on end, that will be almost as good as seeing Michelangelo's David up close and personal.”
“What would Mrs. P. say, Alvin? Stiff upper lip.”
“Do you have a plan for Italy?” Alvin said.
“Not yet.”
“So you're just getting off the plane, and you'll just look around and scratch your head?”
“Hardly. I'll be in touch, and we'll take it as it goes.”
“Violet and I are really kindred spirits,” Alvin sniffed.
“We really need someone here to keep a finger on the pulse. You can get cracking on finding some women she served with. You can get in touch with the Legion, Veterans Affairs, try to track them down. It can be part of your voyage of self-discovery.”
“That reminds me, did you move my journal?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, I can't find it.”
“It was by the phone when I called Betty and Hazel. Here it is, under this paper. Don't snatch, Alvin. I'll be happy to hand it to you.”
“Look at that!”
“What?”
“I can't believe even you would do that, Camilla.”
“Do what?”
“Well, look at it. See what you did to the face on my notebook? You gave Margaret Trudeau wrinkles.”
I squinted at the cover. “Can't say I know what you're talking about.”
He sniffed, “See those lines. You stuck your papers on top of my notebook and wrote on them.”
“All I did was scratch out the names of the people who weren't Betty and Hazel. I didn't think it would damage your book.” I didn't think it was such a big hairy deal, but in the interest of team spirit, I apologized. “Okay, I'm really sorry.”
Alvin sniffed again.
“Hey, maybe it's a good thing,” I said. “We didn't see any paper lying around at Mrs. P.'s, did we?”
“No.”
“Chances are, she wrote something down before she left, made a note of a flight or a time.”
“Is this connected to my notebook?” Alvin said.
“Definitely. We'd better check her books and magazines to see if we find indentations.”
“That stuff only happens in the movies, Camilla.”
“It just happened here.”
“Violet doesn't keep magazines lying around. But you're right, I guess it wouldn't hurt to check.”
“We'll drop in on the Super too. Take him by surprise.”
* * *
The Super was standing in the foyer when we got there, which sort of ruined the surprise. He buzzed us in and wrung his hands. “I'm waiting for a call back.”
“No problem. We need to see Mrs. Parnell's apartment. We have a key.” I waved mine ostentatiously.
“I'll go wit
h you, just in case there's any issue about it later. And don't be taking it out on me because of management's attitude, Camilla. I got nothing against you. I never wanted to see you tossed out on your…”
“It's history,” I said.
“The phone book,” I whispered to Alvin when we arrived in the apartment. Something told me we wouldn't be getting out of the building with anything belonging to Mrs. Parnell as long as the Super was with us.
“Roger, over and out,” Alvin whispered back.
Naturally, there is no way to stash a phone book in your pocket. “You want to watch while I check the bedroom?” I said to the Super with what I hoped was a meaningful look at Alvin.
“Sure thing. I can't believe she would leave her place like this,” the Super said, shaking his shiny head. “It was always so perfect, eh.”
“She didn't. Someone burgled it, which is why we are waiting to see those tapes. Have the reporters been by yet?”
He paled. “I left a message for the owners. They got lawyers too. In fact, I think they might be lawyers themselves. Don't quote me. Oh boy, somebody did a job in here too.”
I stalled long enough for Alvin to check the phone book and any other magazines or books he found. There was nothing in the bedroom.
“I wish I could have helped you stay in your apartment. The owners were pissed off about all the complaints about you. And the awful thing on the balcony a few years back. The false alarm in September was just the last straw.”
“I didn't pull that fire alarm. Never mind, did these complaints come from different sources?”
“You know that's confidential.”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Privacy. Yeah, yeah. People can complain about me, but I can't know who they are.”
“You can be a scary lady.”
“Know what I think? I think all the complaints come from the guy in 1604. You got a whole bunch of complaints from one gold-plated jerk.”
He paled. “You didn't hear that from me,” he said.
“I owe you one.”
The Dead Don't Get Out Much Page 9
