Little Boy Blues

by Mary Jane Maffini

  “What were you thinking taking that boy anywhere but to a hospital?”

  “I called you, Vince. It’s what he wanted,” Alvin bleated.

  Vince’s comments were unprintable. That turned out to be a strategic error on his part. Mrs. Parnell pulled herself up to her full height and unleashed a tongue-lashing I will remember for a while.

  “You don’t deserve this boy,” Mrs. P. said whenever a Ferguson opened its mouth. Alvin was sunk on the floor, back to the wall, face in his hands.

  “Did you manage to waylay Honey Redmore at lunchtime?” I asked Vince.

  “Of course I didn’t. First of all, I don’t dance to your tune. Second, I was looking for Jimmy. Third, had I found him, I wouldn’t have exposed him to danger.”

  Vince was exposing himself to danger at that point, but Deveau got between us and pulled me away.

  Outside the gallery, media trucks vied with ambulances and police cars. All you could see were flashing lights. Glinting off the shimmering piles of glass. Reflecting off the deep gloss of the crumpled Buick. A SOCO made his way toward the scene.

  I turned to Deveau who was scratching his head. “It made sense at the time for Alvin to bring Jimmy here, you know.”

  “I don’t even know what to say. It’s unbelievable.”

  “The worst thing is, the killer might have a better idea how to find him than we do. Unless Mombourquette pulls him off the street.”

  “They have an all-points bulletin out. Don’t worry. They’ll get him.”

  • • •

  Mrs. Parnell did not believe she was in need of medical attention for shock. She looked a lot more chipper than she had before the Buick shot through the window. Alvin, on the other hand, was bleeding.

  “We will all go looking for him,” I said, “but not before you two see a doctor. Don’t argue.”

  Deveau had a rental. Once Alvin had accepted his need for stitches, Deveau drove us five blocks to the Sandy Hill Health Centre walk-in clinic. I explained the logic behind my theory to Deveau and Alvin.

  Alvin said. “I don’t remember any boys in the park. I don’t recall anything about that day. Except Jimmy going to the hospital in an ambulance and everyone crying.”

  “Donald Donnie and Loretta remember it. Clearly. It puts a different spin on things, doesn’t it?”

  “Are you all right, dear boy?” Mrs. Parnell said.

  I stuck to my guns. “It could have been an attack.”

  Alvin nodded. “If it’s true, then I didn’t cause Jimmy’s accident. It would mean I didn’t leave him alone to play in the water. I ran for help. It’s a terrible thing to say, but I almost hope it is true, that there were boys. I always thought it was my fault. I never knew how I could do such an awful thing to my little brother.”

  “And your family let you think that,” I said under my breath.

  “Too bad I missed my chance to see this guy at the Château. Maybe it would have triggered a memory,” Alvin said to my surprise.

  “You will get a chance to see Redmore because Mrs. Parnell got some great shots with her digital camera.”

  “Unfortunately, it was in the Buick,” she said. “It’s gone now.”

  “You checked?”

  “I did.”

  “You mean you checked after the car went through the window?”

  “Of course.”

  • • •

  Deveau watched my face intently. Not a sign of the mellow man I’d come to like some much. “Hard to believe the things kids can do sometimes,” he said.

  “We’ve got a couple of things to follow up on, and I don’t think they’re at the top of the list for the police here. But they will make a difference. Will you help us?” I figured this was a major test.

  Ray Deveau passed with honours. “Wouldn’t miss the opportunity. Lennie might not like it, but that’s not my problem.”

  “We need you to track down Father Blaise. I think he’s got information we need.”

  I liked the idea that I could surprise Deveau.

  “Really?” he said. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “He’s attending something at St. Paul’s University here. But he hasn’t returned Mrs. Parnell’s calls. You take care of that, and I’ll confirm something about the first hit and run.”

  While we waited for Alvin to get his stitches, I called Lianne Hornyk. Like everyone else in the world, she had voice mail.

  I left a crisp message, telling her we had a lead, and repeating my cellphone number twice in case she’d lost it. I asked her exactly what made her think it was a woman driving the car that ran down her husband.

  When I looked up, I found myself facing a reporter from The Citizen, one of P. J.’s buddies, a woman with shaggy black hair and a dangerous grin.

  “Did P. J. rat us out?” I said. Usually I like her a lot.

  “Can’t reveal my sources. Want to give me an interview?”

  She was blocking the entrance. Although she did have a great grin, it wasn’t enough to get a story out of Deveau. “No comment,” he said pleasantly, revealing his cop training.

  Mrs. Parnell wouldn’t have broken under torture. Alvin might have blurted out information, but luckily he’d gone in to get his stitches. I’d also suggested a sedative, but not every doctor does what I say.

  That left me for the interview. But I didn’t plan to have the papers get the scoop on Will Redmore before the cops did their jobs.

  “I’ve promised P. J. an exclusive. It’s the least I could do for him. I guess you could say he encouraged me to enter The Citizen’s Bluesfest contest, and I won those two Clubhouse passes.”

  “What?”

  “I won them. Tell you what. When this is over, even if P. J. gets the scoop, we’ll see you get a worthwhile interview. How’s that? But we’d like to be alone now. We’re under a lot of strain.”

  “What contest are you talking about?”

  “The Citizen contest. The draw for the Clubhouse passes. I won it. I really wouldn’t have entered if P. J. hadn’t pushed it, so to speak.”

  “First I’ve heard of this contest. Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.” I showed my wristband.

  All of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure. What the hell was P. J. up to this time?

  • • •

  Our reporter had given up and departed seeking more cooperative types, and Deveau was driving us home when the call came through from New Brunswick.

  “Camilla? It’s Lianne Hornyk here. You asked what made me think it was a woman who killed Greg? I have thought a lot about it. The car was speeding towards us, of course, but I got a good look at the person driving. I couldn’t see the colour of her hair because she was wearing one of those expensive scarves tied over her head, you know, that French design, tied like she was a movie star from the early sixties. She had sunglasses on. The bad news is, because of the scarf and the sunglasses, I couldn’t ever really identify her... What else can I tell you? She was thin and elegant. Sort of Hepburnish. She even wore gloves... I hope this helps, but I don’t see how it can. I gave all the information to the police, but I don’t think they thought it would do them much good. You can imagine why.”

  I could.

  “Hermès,” Alvin said when I passed on the information. “They’re called Hermès, those scarves.”

  I said, “Whatever.”

  “Ms. MacPhee, I believe we have a strategic problem with the idea of Mr. Redmore being the hit and run driver.”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Mrs. P. The man’s like a well-dressed mountain. No one would ever mix him up with a woman.”

  Alvin said, “Not even in a car? Wearing a Hermès scarf and sunglasses to hide his face?”

  “No. Not even wearing a tent. The guy must have been a linebacker in college. He’s got hands like patio slabs, and it would be obvious to anyone.”

  “So that means it couldn’t have been him.”

  “All it means, Alvin, is that there’s something we
still don’t know.”

  Alvin said, “Anyway, we can’t think about that now. We have to get out and find Jimmy.”

  At that point, Deveau butted in. “Look, you’ve all been through a rough experience. You need to go home and get some rest. You were almost killed today, and you need to look after yourselves. You might consider getting cleaned up too.”

  “Jimmy comes first,” Alvin said.

  “The Ottawa cops are out in force. I checked with Lennie. They’ve put extra foot patrols in the Market and other key spots. They’ve issued a major media alert. They’ll probably do a house-to-house in the area near the Gallery. And they’re calling for volunteer searchers. I’ll head back as soon as I drop you off. I’ll keep you in the loop. They’ll find Jimmy.”

  “What if he’s hurt? There was glass flying everywhere. He could be injured. His medication would have barely kicked in. After all he’s been through, this last shock could trigger a seizure.”

  Mrs. Parnell took Alvin’s arm. “Dear boy, your family are also checking the hospitals. They’ll be on the lookout. It will all end well.”

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t convinced.

  Deveau drove us home and insisted on coming up. Once we were in my apartment, he said: “I’m heading back downtown. But I want you to listen to me. You just finished picking glass out of your head. Alvin’s experience would put most people in the hospital. Mrs. Parnell talks a good story, but she’s eighty years old.”

  “Seventy-nine.”

  “I think you get my point, Camilla. Someone’s playing a very dangerous game, and we don’t know what it is. Make sure you three don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Absolutely. I think the best thing we can do is sit tight and use our brains.”

  • • •

  Mrs. Parnell was serving up Harvey’s, purely for its medicinal value. I declined. So did Alvin. Gussie, sensing a wounded spirit, snuggled in. Mrs. Parnell’s cat chose me instead. Lester and Pierre shrieked indiscriminately.

  “What kind of woman would wear a fancy French scarf on a holiday in Sydney?” I said.

  “Hermès, Camilla,” Alvin said. “You’re right. They set you back a couple hundred dollars.”

  “I know the ones you mean. Gold, swirly designs. My sister Edwina got one on her thirtieth anniversary trip to France. That’s my point.”

  “You mean not everyone in Sydney would have one?”

  “Exactly. But more important, if you’re looking at a speeding car, how could you know someone was wearing imported silk or just a K-Mart imitation?” I said.

  “I probably could,” Alvin said.

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. But I couldn’t. Do we think Lianne can?”

  “There’s something about them. You can spot the real thing a mile off.”

  “So there’s the other angle. Who’s going to be walking around looking like that? In July? With gloves yet.”

  “Be serious, Camilla. No one.”

  “That’s my point. You’d be extremely noticeable in the casual crowd around Charlotte Street, done up as Audrey Hepburn, even without the gloves.”

  Alvin’s eyes gleamed. “Everyone would be trying to figure out who you were.”

  “If they could stop laughing long enough.”

  “Exactly. It’s a disguise.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Bear with me. Ask yourself, why would the person want to be disguised.”

  “Let me think. Maybe because fatal hit and run is illegal?”

  “Sarcasm does not become you, Alvin. The person didn’t want to be identified. Does that mean she would be recognized?”

  “She might be someone well-known around Sydney, you mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That would include Honey Redmore, even though she’s been gone for years.”

  “And even more to the point, it indicates the person who killed Greg Hornyk had an intended victim. I think she planned to kill Jimmy and she decided in advance to put the scarf on and the sunglasses and the gloves.”

  “But you don’t think it was Honey.”

  “I find it hard to believe, although this whole thing’s been hard to believe. It’s easier to picture the brother trying to eliminate Jimmy, as the person who could finger him, not only as a childhood bully, but also an adult who makes false accusations. He’s still a bully, only now he has a network audience.”

  “But like you said, the guy’s practically a giant. Anyway, Honey also knew Jimmy didn’t do anything. So wiping out Jimmy doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Yes, and that’s my other point.”

  “What?”

  “The only person who would have a reason to kill Jimmy is a person who actually thought Jimmy was responsible for Mr. Redmore’s death.”

  “But you’ve explained that Honey and her brother both knew it wasn’t true.”

  “Yes. But I’m betting the mother didn’t know.”

  “That Mrs. Redmore was like a hound from hell afterwards. She practically attacked Ma in broad daylight right on Charlotte Street.”

  “Indicating an unstable and vindictive personality.”

  “You said it.”

  “But an elegant, well-dressed woman, who would probably own a whatdoyoucallitscarf.”

  “Hermès. And yes.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “I haven’t seen her for years, but she looked like an older version of Honey. Not so pretty, but the same physical type.”

  “And people would recognize her on the street in Sydney.”

  “Not everyone, but there’d be a good chance.”

  Mrs. Parnell raised her glass. “At last, it is beginning to make sense.”

  “Some of it is. It certainly could explain why Greg Hornyk was killed. But it doesn’t tell us why Jimmy would go into hiding. Would he have been afraid of Mrs. Redmore?”

  “Probably not, but remember with Jimmy, it’s not always logical. Maybe he saw the brother with her and remembered the bullying. They were all there.”

  “You forget a woman chased Jimmy that afternoon,” Mrs. Parnell said. “If that was Mrs. Redmore, he most certainly would have been fearful of her after that.”

  “That’s true,” Alvin said.

  “But it doesn’t explain who torched Alvin’s apartment building. Or who killed Reefer,” I said.

  “If Mrs. Redmore lives here, she could have done it,” Alvin said.

  “Maybe. But how would she know where you lived? How would she know Jimmy was there?”

  “And would she have driven the Buick through the Gadzooks window?” Mrs. Parnell puffed thoughtfully. “How could she know we were at the Gallery?” Alvin said. “She couldn’t.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “She sure could have. Her son knew. He could have called her. He was there when we said we were picking up you and Jimmy. We don’t even know what she looks like. Maybe she was in the audience. She wouldn’t have had to know where we were going. All she had to do was follow us.”

  “It certainly took long enough to get out of that garage,” Mrs. P. said.

  “Too bad we don’t have a witness,” Alvin said.

  I thought back. “Maybe we do.”

  • • •

  Deveau showed up at my place again at six with pizza and a sheepish look. Mrs. Parnell and Alvin and I were planning our next strategies. I seemed to be the only one who found his visit surprising.

  We wolfed the pizza, leaving hardly any for Gussie. It’s amazing how hungry you get dodging death.

  “Well, that was great. Thanks, Ray. Now tell me, do you want to help me track down a witness?”

  “Actually, I want to get over and talk to Father Blaise.”

  “Father Blaise? He finally called back?”

  “No. Didn’t I tell you? What’s the name of your big hospital? Anyway, he’s there.ICU.”

  “The General. And you did not tell me. What’s he there for?”

  “I thought I told you. Are you sure?” />
  “Of course, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, I know what happened. I found out from Leonard, but when I heard your car crashed into that Gallery and then Jimmy got away again, I guess it just flew out of my mind. It’s a tragedy. But it’s not like Father Blaise was directly related to the case.”

  I let that pass. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”

  “I went over to St. Paul’s, and they told me he’d been hit by a car the night before last.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “You don’t think that’s related? That would make four instances where someone’s using a car as a weapon.”

  “My God. I can’t believe I missed that connection. I thought it a case of an old man in a strange city getting hit by a car. I don’t know if it was a hit and run.” No chuckle from Deveau as he picked up his cellphone. “We’ve got to get over and talk to him.”

  Alvin, looking haggard and dejected, headed out to join the family. “Say hello to Father Blaise. Tell him we’re looking for Jimmy.”

  Mrs. Parnell said “I’ll smoke out that Redmore creature while you’re gone. I’ll check what Donald Donnie and Loretta have to say about her. We’ll see if we can get a photo of her somewhere. And we’ll get them to show it to the woman in Sydney who saw Jimmy being chased in her backyard.”

  “Mrs. Smith.”

  “Precisely. We can also send a copy to the young widow, Ms. Hornyk.”

  “Terrific. I’ll be off.”

  • • •

  Deveau and I were halfway down the hall when the elevator doors dinged open. P. J. emerged and turned in our direction.

  “Oh,” he said, looking at Deveau and then back to me. “I was late getting your message. I thought I’d drop in and see if you were all right.”

  “Never better. By the way, I had a fascinating chat with a colleague of yours about The Citizen’s Bluesfest contest.”

  P. J. paled. “Oh, I can explain. When we’re alone. But anyway, I have this tape of Face Off. I thought since Alvin missed it, he might watch and see if he recognizes Redmore.”

  “I’ll take that,” I said. “You’re in a hurry to get out of here.”