The Nesting Dolls

by Gail Bowen

  Zack was pensive. “I wonder how eager Abby Michaels was to outwit death,” he said finally.

  I looked at him hard. “Surely you don’t think Abby brought this on herself?”

  “Of course not,” Zack said. “But from what Mieka says, Abby was suffering from something that sounds very much like clinical depression. I was trying to imagine her state of mind the night she gave away her son.”

  “Do the police have any ideas about how Abby ended up in that parking lot?”

  “Uh-uh. The A-l Jewellery and Pawn Shop is in the industrial area, so the cops can’t count on information from residents, but they’re checking out cab companies to see if any driver picked up a fare on Toronto Street the night of the blizzard. And now that the police have traced the licence plate, the answers about Abby Michaels’s personal history will start coming.”

  “Delia said the car’s owner was Hugh Michaels. Was he Abby’s husband?”

  “Could be. Could also be a brother, a father, an uncle, or a cousin. All they know for certain is that Hugh Michaels is from Port Hope.”

  “That’s where Alwyn Henry lives.”

  “Your university friend who sent us our first Christmas card this year – the card with the picture of the cardinal at her bird feeder.”

  “Not much gets by you, does it?” I said.

  “Nope. I’m ever vigilant. Port Hope is a small town. Maybe you should give Alwyn a call. See what you can find out.”

  “Maybe I should.” I curled my feet under me. “But not now. I’m warm; I’m next to you, and I’m drinking some very good Scotch. Let’s finish our drinks and go to bed and catch up with Gawain. We could use an escape from reality, and we’re at a good part: the lord of the castle has just led everyone off on the hunt. Gawain stayed back at the castle, and the lady of the house has just tiptoed into his room.”

  The phone on the end table shrilled. “Let it ring,” Zack said.

  “Can’t,” I said. “We have kids and grandkids – we’ve given hostages to fortune.”

  I reached over, picked up the phone, and heard a voice I’d heard for the first time when I was a nineteen-year-old student at the University of Toronto. Alwyn Henry was a talker, and for thirty-seven years, I had revelled in my role as her listener. As a rule, her words tumbled over one another as if life was too short to say all she had to say about her many passions – teaching, bird watching, poetry, theatre, cooking, fine wines, travel, photography – but that night, the bounce was gone from her voice. “Joanne, I don’t know where to start with this… ”

  “Is it about Abby Michaels?” I said.

  “So you know that she’s dead,” Alwyn said. “Calling you was just a shot in the dark, but I thought with your media contacts you might have some information.”

  “I do,” I said. “Can you hold for a minute?” I put my hand over the receiver. “It’s Alwyn Henry. How much should I tell her?”

  “Play it by ear,” Zack said. “See what you can get in return. If Jacob’s father is in the picture, we should know. You can certainly say that Jacob is with Abby’s birth mother.”

  I took my hand off the receiver. “Sorry, Alwyn. There was something here I had to take care of. So, do you want to go first or shall I?”

  Her laugh was ragged. “You know me. I rush in where angels fear to tread, but I should tell you this isn’t just a matter of small-town curiosity. I’m calling on behalf of Abby’s partner. Her name is Nadine Perrault. Two hours ago, she learned Abby had been murdered. The police apparently traced the licence on Abby’s car, and they called Abby’s house. Nadine answered. The authorities won’t tell her anything. Nadine is, understandably, beside herself. Her biggest concern of course is Jacob. She’s planning to fly to Regina tomorrow to get him. She and I teach English together at Trinity College School. She came to my house tonight because she needs someone to cover her classes. I agreed of course.”

  Something inside me twisted and tightened. “Is she there now?”

  “She went out to get some air. She’ll be back.”

  “Alwyn, you’ll have to talk her out of coming to Regina. I don’t know what Nadine Perrault’s understanding of the situation is, but Abby Michaels made it clear that she wants Jacob to be with her birth mother. She handed Jacob over to the family before she was attacked.”

  “Birth mother? This doesn’t make any sense,” Alwyn said. “Abby’s mother was Peggy Michaels. I’ve known her for forty years. There must be some mistake.”

  “There’s no mistake,” I said. “We know the biological mother, and we know the circumstances of Abby’s birth. The mother was at a point in her life where she didn’t feel she could raise a child, so she arranged for her baby to be adopted.”

  “That’s not possible,” Alwyn said. “Hugh and I taught together for years at TCS, and I remember him and Peggy bringing Abby out to the school to show her off after she was born. She was a lovely little thing – all that curly black hair. Hugh made a joke about Peggy’s ancestors obviously not spending all their time in the Highlands.”

  “Abby’s birth date is September 29, 1983,” I said. “Does that date fit with what you know?”

  “It does.” Alwyn’s voice was heavy. “The new school year was just nicely underway when Abby was born. We were all thrilled for them. Peggy and Hugh had been trying for years to have a child.”

  “So they faked a pregnancy? How could they carry that off in a town the size of Port Hope?”

  Alwyn paused before answering. “They weren’t here,” she said. “We were told that there were difficulties. Peggy was hospitalized for months at a hospital in Toronto that specialized in high-risk pregnancies. Hugh spent the summer there with her.”

  “And when they came back in September, they had Abby.”

  “They were ecstatic. Do you know what the name Abigail means? ‘Father’s joy.’ From the day they brought that child home, she was a joy to them both.”

  “Alwyn, do you have any idea why Hugh and Peggy Michaels would go to such lengths to hide the truth? They must have realized that at some point Abby would find out that they weren’t her biological parents.”

  “You don’t think they told her?”

  “Abby didn’t contact her biological mother until two weeks ago.”

  “Hugh and Peggy were killed in a car accident Thanksgiving weekend,” Alwyn said. “Abby must have discovered the truth about her birth when she went through her parents’ papers.”

  “Coming so soon after losing both her parents, the news must have been a terrible blow.”

  “Especially for someone who’d been as protected as Abby was,” said Alwyn. “At the funeral, I sat with Hugh’s other colleagues. When Abby walked back down the aisle after the service, I couldn’t bear to look at her face. The woman I was sitting next to said, ‘This is the first time that child has ever seen that life can be cruel.’ ”

  “You knew Abby,” I said. “Would the shock of discovering she’d been adopted be enough to make her give up her child?”

  Alwyn’s tone was curt. “Of course not. Abby was an extraordinarily confident and capable woman. She would have been wounded, but she wouldn’t have been irrational.”

  “Alwyn, she drove halfway across the country over winter roads. She was alone with her baby. Anything could have happened. When she arrived here, she was deeply depressed. She was also determined to give Jacob to her birth mother.”

  “Those are not the actions of the woman I knew,” Alwyn said flatly. “Something else must have happened.”

  “Do you remember what Dr. Buitenhuis used to say? ‘When speculation has done its worse, two and two still make four.’ ”

  “He was quoting Samuel Johnson, but I concede the point. Facts are facts, but in this case, I don’t think we know all the facts.”

  “Then I guess all anyone can do is deal with the situation as it stands. Jacob is here in Regina and he’s being well cared for. We know the family he’s with.”

  “And they’re planning t
o keep him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll tell Nadine.” Her breath caught. “This is going to break her heart, Jo.”

  “It will be worse if she comes here. Believe me. Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow morning? We’ll know more then, but for the time being, please just keep Nadine away.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Zack had been watching me intently. When I hung up, he frowned. “To quote one of your favourites, ‘What fresh hell is this?’ ”

  “It seems Abby had a partner. Her name is Nadine Perrault, and she was planning to fly here tomorrow to get Jacob.”

  “But she’s not coming now?”

  “You heard my end of the conversation,” I said. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Shit,” Zack said. “More complications.”

  “You think Nadine Perrault has a legitimate claim on Jacob?”

  “Hard to say – depends on the nature and duration of her relationship with Abby Michaels. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do tonight.”

  “In that case,” I said, “let’s say good night to Taylor and hit the sack. I’ll read you Gawain until you fall asleep.”

  Zack raised an eyebrow. “Gawain demands a man’s deep and sonorous voice.”

  “You’ll be amazed at how sonorous I can be with a couple of ounces of Old Pulteney under my belt.”

  The next morning, long before the first blue light of day began to seep through our bedroom windows, Zack’s cell rang. It was Delia. I rolled over and listened as Zack presented his argument about how Delia could best handle the situation facing her. Zack’s voice was low but urgent, and as he and Delia continued talking I could feel his concern. When the call was finally over, Zack turned to face me.

  “So what’s next?” I said.

  “I don’t know. Delia’s in terrible shape, Joanne. I didn’t know until she told me this morning that she spent half an hour alone in Abby’s car with her body.”

  “My God. How did that happen?”

  Zack pushed himself up to a seated position. “The men who found Abby’s body were casual workers from the Wayfarers’ Mission. They reasoned, correctly, that they were being paid to shovel snow, not deal with cops. To their credit, these guys tried to do the right thing. Having opened the car door and discovered a scene that, to say the least, must have been traumatic, they went through Abby’s wallet, found Delia’s address and phone number, and used Abby’s cell to call her.”

  “What a nightmare. Poor Delia.”

  Zack’s shifted his weight, an automatic gesture to protect his skin against pressure sores. “It gets worse,” he said. “Dee assumed the cops had been called, so she showed up at the parking lot alone.”

  “Where was Noah?”

  “At home with the kids,” Zack said, “confident that the police had everything under control.”

  “But nobody had called them.” I moved closer to Zack. “Just the thought of Delia, down there alone with her daughter’s body.”

  “As you probably heard, I told Dee to take some time off. We’re having a partners’ meeting this morning. I suggested that her admin assistant could bring in her priority files, and we could divvy them up.”

  “But Delia didn’t agree to that?”

  “Nope. She says the only thing that’s going to get her through this is work. And to be honest, I understand that. I’m the same way. But she has agreed to let me act as her liaison with Debbie Haczkewicz, and that was a big concession. It was also a smart move. As next-of-kin, Dee has the right to be kept informed about developments in the case, and she figured she could handle it, but she’s never practised criminal law. She didn’t realize what she was letting herself in for.”

  “And you do.”

  “Yes, and I wouldn’t wish the kind of reports that are going to be coming out of the medical examiner’s office on my worst enemy. Right now the pathologist and his team will be waiting for Abby’s body to thaw so they can start their examination. A uniformed cop will have put paper bags on Abby’s hands to preserve any traces of DNA from her attacker that may be under her nails. And this is only the beginning. The M.E. always says that the answers don’t leap out of the body; his team has to dig for them. As soon as Abby’s body thaws, they’ll be fingerprinting her, swabbing her genitals, taking blood, getting samples of her pubic hair, cutting her nails – well, you get the drift.”

  “I do,” I said. “God, Zack, this is terrible. If it were one of our kids… ” I closed my eyes against the image. “It’s going to be hard enough for Delia. This story will be an early Christmas present for the media. A beautiful young woman comes to a strange city, gives away her baby, and is raped and murdered. That picture you took of Abby at the carol service will be everywhere.”

  Zack nodded. “And I have a feeling that picture will be with us for a long time. According to Dee, the police don’t have any leads. People were dealing with the blizzard and the blackout. And of course, the snow obliterated everything around the crime scene.”

  “What about the men who found the body?”

  “The police will check them out, but Dee says that after the men called her they apparently went straight back to the Wayfarers’ Mission and told the pastor everything that had happened. At that point the pastor called the police. As you know too well, I’m a betting man, but I’m an informed bettor. Abby Michaels had close to $500 in her wallet and the Wayfarer shovellers didn’t touch it. I’m betting they’re clean.”

  Zack and I exchanged a glance. “I wish this problem had landed on someone else’s plate,” I said.

  “Me too,” Zack said. “But it’s on our plate, Jo. So we’ll have to deal with it.”

  I leaned over and kissed him. “Alwyn said she’d phone me this morning and tell me what she knew about Nadine Perrault’s plans. She won’t call this early, so I might as well take the dogs for their run.”

  “This is not an ideal way to start the day,” Zack said.

  “The day is young,” I said. “Keep that Kiz Harp CD at the ready.”

  When I got back from my run, I put our tickets for The Nutcracker by Zack’s plate – a not so subtle reminder that we were taking Madeleine and Lena out for dinner and the ballet and that he should be home from work early.

  Surprisingly, Taylor beat him to the breakfast table. She was dressed for school. I looked at my watch. “Six o’clock,” I said. “Did I forget about a practice or something?”

  She cut a grapefruit and put half in my bowl and half in hers. “No, I thought I’d work in the studio for a while before I caught the bus.” She picked up one of the tickets and read the information on its face. After several years of waning interest, she’d decided to give The Nutcracker a pass. She and Mieka were going to a restaurant where the rock was loud and the burgers were loaded and then to a chick flick. As Taylor placed the ticket back on the table, her face was wistful.

  “Second thoughts?” I said.

  Her brow furrowed. “Not really. Going to The Nutcracker together was just one of our ten million traditions.”

  I laughed. “Do you remember your first Nutcracker?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was so excited I threw up as soon as they raised the curtain.”

  “We had good seats too. Right near the orchestra. The ushers came and cleaned up, but you refused to go home.”

  “The people around us must have hated us.”

  “The musicians weren’t too wild about us, either, but it was worth it. Watching you that night was one of the great thrills of my life.”

  Taylor chewed her lip. “Do you ever wish we could go back to the way it was?”

  “Sometimes,” I said. “But then I realize if we went back, we wouldn’t have Zack or Maddy and Lena -”

  “Or Bruce and Benny or Willie and Pantera.” Taylor picked up her grapefruit spoon. “Or Declan,” she said innocently.

  “Or Declan,” I agreed. “On the whole, I’d say we’ve gained more than we’ve lost. But going back is not an op
tion. To paraphrase Joni Mitchell, we’re all captives on the carousel of time.”

  Taylor cocked her head. “Who’s Joni Mitchell?”

  Alwyn called just after Taylor left for school. Zack and I were in the office we shared at home. To me, the speaker-phone violated everything conversation was supposed to be, but Zack had questions and it was possible Alwyn could answer them. When I explained that Zack was acting as the lawyer for Delia Wainberg, Abby’s birth mother, and asked if he could take part in our call, Alwyn’s response was characteristically pragmatic. “Whatever helps,” she said.

  Zack introduced himself and apologized. “This is a hell of a way to meet,” he said. “But thank you for agreeing to talk to me. I know you’re in a difficult position. It’s never easy to be caught in the middle.”

  “Especially when the situation is so murky,” Alwyn said.

  “Well, let’s see if we can un-muddy the waters – exchange a little information. Joanne tells me that you knew Abby from the time she was a baby. What was her life like?”

  “Gilded,” Alwyn said. “She was the only child of parents who adored her, and as an adult she found a partner who adored her and whom she adored. She had a child she loved. She was bright, attractive, focused, and accomplished.”

  “You say that Abby and her partner adored one another. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that Nadine Perrault wouldn’t have realized that her partner was planning to bring their child out here and leave him with another family?”

  “It’s inconceivable,” Alwyn said flatly. “Nonetheless, Nadine says that’s exactly what happened. According to her, she and Abby had grown even closer after Peggy and Hugh died. But after Abby examined the contents of her parents’ safety-deposit box, everything changed. Abby withdrew from Nadine. She became secretive. Nadine pleaded with Abby to tell her what was wrong, but Abby remained silent. The last morning they were together, Nadine went off to teach as usual, but when she returned, the house was empty. Abby had taken her parents’ old Volvo, so Nadine didn’t think she’d gone far, but as the days went by she grew frantic. Understandably, she was terrified at the thought of Abby driving alone with that baby on winter roads.”