What's Left Behind

by Gail Bowen

  CHAPTER

  17

  Since I’d met Zack, five women and one man had sat behind the silvery granite slab that was the firm’s reception desk. All were as slick as their surroundings; all were unfailingly kind to me. Today’s person behind the desk had perfectly oval nails that matched her indigo silk blouse, and her smile was winsome. Her name was Rosalie Wu. She stood to greet me. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Shreve. I’ll buzz Maisie – she’s expecting you.”

  Maisie came out immediately; she ushered me into the boardroom, closed the door, and embraced me. In high heels, Maisie was well over six feet tall. She was wearing a smart ivory maternity suit and the peach blouse we’d admired when she unpacked Margot’s clothes. She had a new hairstyle: very short and very flattering.

  I hugged her. “You look amazing,” I said. “I love your hair.”

  A sliver of sadness undercut Maisie’s smile. “I had it cut yesterday. Every time I looked in a mirror, I saw Lee. I thought having a different hairstyle might make it easier.”

  “Did it?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Jo, what do you want to talk to me about? I know it must be important. That’s why I brought you in here. There are always interruptions when I’m at my desk.”

  “I’m glad we can be private,” I said. The table in the boardroom was large: sixteen silver-grey leather chairs positioned precisely around a rectangular table of the same silvery-grey granite as the desk in the reception area. Maisie sat at the head of the table and I took the chair to her right. “There’s no way to approach this subject gently,” I said, “so I’m just going to begin. Were Lee and Colin Brokenshire lovers?”

  She flinched. “Who told you?”

  “Nobody. I figured it out. Maisie, I’ve had a hunch that there’s something in Lee’s past that can shed light on everything that’s happened since the day after the wedding. When it seemed the police were closing in on Simon, Warren Weber had a firm of private investigators look into Lee’s romantic life. I was angry, and I told him so. Later, after I’d cooled off, I realized the report might help us discover the truth about Lee’s death, and Warren sent me a copy. He suggested it might be helpful if I shared it with you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “But now you can,” Maisie said, and her voice was heavy with defeat.

  “I don’t have a choice,” I said. “The Harries-Crosby report is all we have. It’s our only option.”

  Maisie squared her shoulders. “All right,” she said. “Go ahead. Tell me what they found.”

  I turned my chair so I could watch my daughter-in-law’s face. “The first sexual relationship Harries-Crosby could identify began when Lee was twenty-two,” I said. “I found that unusual. I tried to talk to George about Lee’s past, but he evaded my questions. Yesterday, I asked Warren to have Harries-Crosby look into Colin Brokenshire’s personal life from the time he assumed responsibility for you and Lee until his death. Like Lee, Colin didn’t have any romantic relationships after the time you and she started university.”

  Maisie raked her long fingers through her curls. “I was hoping that Lee and Colin’s love affair could be kept private,” she said. “I’m still hoping that. Jo, they’re both dead. Why does the fact that they were lovers matter now?”

  I leaned across the smooth expanse of granite that separated Maisie and me. “Because I believe that knowing the truth will lead us to whoever is behind this nightmare,” I said.

  Maisie tented her fingers and studied them. After less than a minute, she’d reached a decision. It was time to talk. “The relationship started when Lee was seventeen,” she said.

  “And Colin was forty-seven,” I said.

  “Don’t rush to judgment, Jo. Lee and I never had secrets from each other and she made it clear from the beginning that she was the pursuer. Colin resisted. He cited all the reasons why they shouldn’t become intimate. There was the age difference, of course, and the fact that Colin had been our legal guardian. Lee didn’t care. She was in love with him, and she knew he was in love with her, and for her that was all that mattered. They were discreet about their relationship – even around me. When I was home for the weekend, Lee slept in the room she’d shared with me from the time we were children.”

  “And this arrangement continued for four years,” I said.

  “It would have gone on like that forever. Lee told me there was no reason for Colin and her to marry. They were happy as they were. They were both private people and the idea of the neighbours talking about their affair was repugnant to them. Then Lee got pregnant. That changed everything. She and Colin both wanted the baby and that meant acknowledging their relationship. They were planning to get married, and then Colin was killed.”

  Maisie walked over to the wall of glass that looked out over the city. Her back was to me, but I could hear the strain in her voice. “Even now, I can’t bear to remember how Lee was after Colin died. She had always been so strong, but night after night I held her in my arms and stayed with her until she’d cried herself to sleep. She lost the baby, and I think something died in her then. She felt she had to carry on Colin’s work, and I know that for a very long time that was the only reason she wanted to go on living.” Maisie turned to face me. “Anyway, that’s the story – or at least as much as I know of it.”

  “You think there’s more?”

  “Over the years, I’ve wondered if Colin’s accident really was an accident.”

  I felt a chill. “Colin was Mansell’s friend.”

  “And Bette Stevens was his sister.” Maisie’s eyes were troubled. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. The accident happened four years after Colin and Bette broke it off. And the only two people who knew that Colin and Lee were in love were George Sawchuk and me, and George just learned about the relationship when Colin asked him to be a witness at the wedding.” Maisie shook her head impatiently. “Ignore everything I just said. These hormones sluicing through my body are making me crazy. But, Jo, I’m sure you’re right. I’m certain everything that’s happening grows out of something in the past.”

  “Do you think George Sawchuk might have some answers?”

  “He and I are the only ones left who knew about the wedding.” Maisie came back to her chair, folded her arms on the boardroom table, and rested her head on them. She looked like an exhausted schoolgirl. When she straightened, her eyes were filled with tears.

  I went to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

  Maisie looked up at me. “No. We owe it to Lee to see this through.”

  “Would you like me to talk to George?”

  “I would,” Maisie said. “But I should call first. He should know that I want him to tell you everything.” She took out her phone, called George, and gave him a lawyerly précis of the situation. When the call was done, she said, “George will be home all afternoon. He wants you to come ahead.”

  I picked up my bag. “It’s time for this to be over,” I said.

  When I arrived, George was in his driveway washing an already spotless green Ford half-tonne. I parked next to his truck and walked over to him. “You can squeeze out your chamois,” I said. “That truck looks as if it just rolled off the assembly line.”

  “I’ve been hard at it since Maisie called,” George said. “I’ve always found working on a vehicle relaxing.”

  “Ironing does it for me,” I said.

  George smiled. “Come in and have some tea.”

  The kittens were scampering around under the mother cat’s watchful eye. I bent and picked one up. It had a very sweet face. “There’s been so much going on that I haven’t had a chance to bring Taylor out here, but she’s definitely interested in a kitten.”

  “She still has the pick of the litter,” George said. “Now come inside, so we can talk.” The Peek Freans Digestive Biscuits were already arranged on a plate on the chrome table. George and I both washed our hands, and then he filled the kettle and we sat down. He got right int
o it.

  “Except for Maisie, no one, including me, knew that Colin and Lee were lovers until two days before they were to be married. After supper that night – it was a Wednesday – Colin came over with a bottle of Glengoyne. He and Mansell and I always had a glass of single malt together on our birthdays, and on Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve. This was mid-September and Mansell hadn’t been invited so I knew there was something special.

  “Colin poured us each two fingers of Scotch and he told me everything. When he was finished, he said that Lee was pregnant, that they already had a marriage licence, and they were asking Maisie and me to be witnesses to their marriage at City Hall. The wedding was to take place on Saturday. It was a lot of information to process, so I was glad Colin had brought the Glengoyne.

  “It seemed that everything was settled, but Colin needed my advice on one matter. There had been a woman in his life before Lee, and he felt he should tell her about the upcoming marriage before it became public knowledge.”

  “The woman was Bette Stevens,” I said.

  George nodded. “I advised him not to tell her. I’d known Bette since we were in grade school. She’s a good person, but she has a temper. I told Colin that in my opinion if the wedding was presented to the entire community as a fait accompli, Bette would handle the news gracefully, but if he told her privately beforehand, Bette might confront Lee and they would both say things they’d regret.

  “He thanked me for my advice, told me the wedding was at eleven o’clock Saturday morning, and that he, Lee, and Maisie would pick me up at ten. He said he’d never been happier.” George swallowed hard. “That was the last time I saw him.”

  “How did the accident happen?”

  “The same way farm accidents always happen,” George said. “People are tired, they rush, and they get careless. It was harvest – it was a good crop but we were late getting it off because of the weather. Everybody was going full tilt – out in the fields before sunup and still out there hours past sundown. Colin had Lee, but she was just starting her post-graduate work in Saskatoon, and she was only back on the weekends. Mansell and Bette had finished, so they were helping Colin. It was after dark. It was hot and everyone was exhausted. They were unloading, so there was a lot of noise. Somehow Mansell just didn’t see Colin. He drove right over him.”

  “There must have been an investigation.”

  “There was, and all the physical evidence – the tire tracks and the state of Colin’s body – was consistent with what Mansell and Bette said had happened. Bette had witnessed the accident and she was in a state of shock. As I said, Mansell was never the same after that – at least he was never the same with me.”

  As I drove back to the city, I couldn’t shake George’s account of the collateral damage Colin Brokenshire’s tragic death had caused. When I pulled into our parking garage, images of that hot September night were still crowding my brain, I was looking forward to a shower and a peaceful hour preparing dinner and planning for the summer ahead.

  The vagaries of fate had long since ceased to amaze me, but even by fate’s whimsical standards, the scene I walked into when I stepped through our front door was surreal. Mansell Donnelly and Zack were in the living room, dressed in the lightweight, carefully tailored suits successful men wear in summer. Whiskey tumblers in hand, dogs at their feet, Zack and Mansell were the very model of corporate camaraderie. Mondo bizarro. Esme had positioned herself next to Mansell. When she spotted me, she came running. Mansell took in the reunion with a smile. “Zack said the minute you came through that door Esme would leave me high and dry.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” I said. “I have dried liver treats in my bag.”

  “Mansell and I are just having a celebratory bourbon,” Zack said. “Can I get you something?”

  “Please – a light one on the rocks. So what are you celebrating?”

  “Tomorrow morning the Regina and District Chamber of Commerce is going to announce their endorsement of the Yes vote,” Zack said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No,” Zack said. “Mansell has been working on them and they’ve seen the light. Let me get your drink.”

  Zack wheeled into the kitchen and returned with a tray holding an ice bucket, a bottle of Jim Beam, and a whiskey tumbler. He poured my drink, freshened his and Mansell’s, and then raised his glass. “Here’s to the endorsement from the Chamber of Commerce.”

  I turned to Mansell. “How did you pull that off?” Zack caught the edge in my voice and gave me a sharp look, but Mansell cruised on.

  “It was the solid material I had to work with,” he said. “It’s easy to make a case for building on the infrastructure that Regina has in place while making thoughtful decisions about development. I used North Village as a great illustration – a carefully planned, multi-use community with well-designed homes for families of varying sizes, needs, and incomes.” Mansell’s laugh was self-mocking. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, Joanne. You probably wrote Zack’s speeches on the subject.”

  I was in no mood to be drawn into their bonhomie. “Just the good ones,” I said.

  “True enough,” Zack said. “But seriously, the Chamber of Commerce’s support should put us over the top in Wednesday’s vote.”

  “Bite your tongue,” I said. “We’ll approach this E-Day the way sensible people approach every E-Day, as if we’re fifteen points behind in the polls.”

  Zack was contrite. “I stand corrected,” he said. “But I’ve invited Mansell to a celebratory dinner at the Sahara Club. If I promise not to crow, will you join us?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “It will be fun watching you control your urge to crow.”

  “Excellent because I’ve already made the reservations. I invited Taylor. She let me down easy, but she made it clear she’d rather be pecked to death by a duck than have dinner with three people talking politics – even if it was at the Sahara Club.”

  “Zack, have you told Milo about this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m going to call and ask him to join us for dinner.”

  “You know he won’t come.”

  “He lives right over the club,” I said. “He has to eat sometime.”

  I went upstairs to make my call. Milo answered with his usual greeting. “What’s the sitch?”

  I filled him in.

  “This is big,” he said.

  “It certainly improves our odds,” I said. “Milo, Zack and I are having dinner with Mansell Donnelly at the Sahara Club at six. I wish you’d join us.”

  “Thanks but no thanks.” For a beat there was silence. Milo broke it. “Jo, there are three people in the world I trust. You’re one of them. Mansell Donnelly doesn’t even make the long list.”

  “Same here. Mansell seems sincere, and he’s offering proof of his commitment, but I’m still uneasy. Anyway, we’ll have a chance to see him in action tomorrow. Zack, Mansell, and the president of the Chamber of Commerce are making a media statement at City Hall at nine in the morning. It would be great if you could be there.”

  “Then I’m there.”

  “Thanks. Milo, is Zack one of the three people you trust?”

  Milo didn’t answer immediately. When he did, he sounded faintly amused. “Jo, when I came to work for you I was thirty-three years old and there were two people on my list. Now there are three. One a decade. I don’t believe in rushing these things.”

  When I met Brock downstairs for our run the next morning, the pungent zing of ozone filled the air and the sky was dark. A storm was on its way. Brock held out his hand palm up. “No rain yet,” he said. “Shall we chance it?”

  Esme and Pantera were straining. “The dogs are making their wishes known,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  The Chamber of Commerce’s endorsement of the Yes vote was important enough for us to break our pattern of not talking while we ran. Brock seemed pleased, but he never offered his opinion until he’d had a chance to think a situation throug
h, so after I shared the news, we didn’t revisit the matter. Brock didn’t mention Michael and neither did I.

  We’d just turned onto Halifax Street when the wind came up and rain began lashing our faces. A garbage can had blown over and the contents were sailing down the street. Seconds after a thunderclap, a bolt of lightning slashed the sky. Without conferring, Brock and I turned up the heat and raced with the dogs for home.

  We were all soaked. Zack had gone to the office early so Brock came up and helped me with the dogs. When Esme and Pantera were dried and fed, Brock went downstairs to shower and change. I invited him to come up and have waffles with Taylor and me when he was ready. So there were three of us for breakfast.

  Taylor was in fine fettle. She and Declan had tickets for a rock concert that weekend, and Declan had scored backstage passes. Taylor had her tablet on the table between us, and she was showing Brock and me videos of the band they were going to see when the phone rang.

  Warren Weber’s rumbling bass filled my ear. “Zack just called to tell me about the Chamber of Commerce. That’s welcome news, Joanne.”

  “It is,” I said. “Are you and Annie still at the lake with Simon?”

  “Yes. It’s pleasant here, and that’s the other reason I called. Is somebody staying at your cottage? Simon was canoeing yesterday and he saw a man and a child on the beach in front of your place.”

  “I’m sorry, Warren, I should have called you, but it’s been crazy around here. The man is Michael Goetz, and the little girl is Slater Doyle’s daughter, Bridie. She’s been through so much. We thought Lawyers’ Bay might be a good place for her to recover.”