by André Alexis
– The one fella, the old gent, he’s a talker. Paid me to keep an eye out. Wanted to know if anyone ever came ’round. Gave me his number an everythin.’
Delmer took out his wallet and from one of its pouches extracted a piece of paper with von Würfel’s number on it.
– The dark fella, said Delmer, he wasn’t a talker. But he an’ your von Waffle went off together. For my two cents, they were both lookin’ for something an’ they seemed to get along pretty good.
– What’s so special about this place? asked Daniel.
– I don’ know, said Delmer, but I’ll give you another number you should call.
On the other side of the paper with von Würfel’s name, Delmer wrote
Alton Azarian
followed by a telephone number.
Astonished by this sudden connection of Colby, Tancred and the Azarians, Daniel said
– How do you know Mr. Azarian?
– How do I know ’im? said Delmer. I been workin’ for ’im for years, eh? Everything goes on aroun’ here, he knows about it.
Bay Street around King – its towers like vast and trunkless legs of glass – was exactly where you’d expect to find the offices of Azarian Holdings. And from Alton Azarian’s office, you could look out onto other tall buildings or down to the lake. It was the kind of view that must often have elicited the words
– You have a lovely view!
But Daniel found it tiresome, evoking as it did not loveliness but a child’s version of power: the king of the castle sniffing at a parade of rascals.
– You have a lovely view, he said.
– Thank you, said Alton Azarian.
He was around six feet tall and, you could see, kept himself in good shape. No doubt, thought Daniel unkindly, he spent a lot of time in front of mirrors.
– What can I do for you, Detective?
– It seems there might be a connection between the Weiden mausoleum and the things stolen from your sisters …
– From my sisters and my brother, said Alton. My brother’s just had a bottle of aquavit stolen from his home. But what’s the connection with the Weidens, do you think?
– It’s mostly my intuition, at this point, said Daniel. A man I saw at your sister’s home was recently seen at …
– No, I’m sorry, said Azarian, I’ll stop you there. I was just curious about what you knew. There is a connection between the things our father bequeathed to us and the Weiden burial ground, but it’s all part of a game. My younger sister, Willow, who we all loved, had it in her head that the things my father bequeathed us were part of a treasure hunt. My father encouraged her to think so. He wanted something to take her mind off the hard drugs she was using. She was not well, Detective. She was an addict. But she must have been well enough to encourage people to help look for this treasure of hers. The only real mystery, as far as I’m concerned, is how these people found the mausoleum when Willow never did.
Daniel was going to ask about McDougal, but Alton Azarian anticipated the question.
– I hired Mr. McDougal to keep an eye on the Weiden plot. I mostly hired him because I don’t trust the staff at Mount Pleasant to take care of the mausoleum as my father wanted. But, to be honest, I was also hoping Willow would find her way there. The message about family was for her. My father meant her to think about family. He meant her to choose family over drugs.
– How many people did your sister talk to about this?
– That’s hard to say. My sister was a heroin addict, Detective. She wasn’t discreet.
– Do you know any of the people she encouraged?
– Not at all. I’m not an addict. But I did look into it.
Azarian took a business card from his wallet and read the names written on the back.
– Alexander von Würfel, Tancred Palmieri, an albino named Errol Colby and a man named Freud Luxemberg. Shady characters, Detective. My sister and I didn’t share the same social circles. I don’t mean that as criticism. I loved my sister. Her death was a blow to all of us but to me especially, because my father asked me to take care of her and I couldn’t.
– I’m sorry for your loss, said Daniel.
– Look, Detective, this treasure business was a game. It was a game with a purpose, but there’s no treasure. I know that for certain. Some people may have it in their heads that my father left money lying around, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He was an honest, hard-working businessman. That’s all he was. And no businessman I can think of would bury money without knowing it was going to be found. That just doesn’t make sense.
– I’m sure you’re right, said Daniel, but that means someone or some people don’t know they’re chasing a will-o’-the-wisp. So far, you’ve been lucky. None of your siblings have been hurt. But if people believe you and your siblings are keeping something from them, someone might get hurt. You’ve already lost a number of precious things, no?
– You’re absolutely right, Detective. I’m glad we spoke. I feel confident you’ll sort this out. But I’m afraid I have an important matter to attend to. So, if there’s anything else you need from me, any other information, just call my secretary. We can make another appointment or, if you like, I’ll call you myself. Is that all right?
– I’m sorry to have taken your time, said Daniel.
But Alton Azarian’s attention was already elsewhere. His suit was elegant. His shirt was white as February snow. He was speaking into his phone, and Detective Mandelshtam had been dismissed.
– Oh, said von Würfel, that explains everything.
– What does it explain? asked Daniel.
They were in the back of Von Würfel’s Animals and Birds. It smelled of formaldehyde. At a long table, Mr. von Würfel was working on a badger that had been the pet of a man from Sutton. The animal was beautiful – its eyes open as if it were still alert, its ears forward so as not to miss the answer to some crucial question.
– It explains, said von Würfel, why Delmer was always there when there was someone near the mausoleum. One wouldn’t expect that, if he’d really been walking around without a destination. Delmer must have stayed close to the mausoleum.
– That’s true, said Daniel.
Von Würfel sighed.
– I’ve found, Detective, that you can’t depend on anyone these days. People have become so deceitful. It’s why I prefer animals. Anyway, I apologize for not telling you sooner about my involvement with the Azarians. It’s because I’ve learned to mistrust men that I kept quiet.
– What about Tancred?
– I don’t know much about him, Detective. We’ve met once or twice, but he’s not talkative. I like him. My impression is that he’s driven by the right impulses.
– Do you think Tancred believes there’s a treasure?
– To be honest, Detective, I’m not sure it matters to him. My impression is that he’s doing this for someone or something else. I think what matters to him is the doing, not the finding. But I’m speaking about things I don’t know. You’d have to ask Tancred.
– Where can I find him? asked Daniel.
– I haven’t got a clue, said von Würfel. We’re not that close.
– So you have no idea who stole the Azarians’ pieces?
– I’d certainly tell you if I knew, Detective. But I have the copies I made and Tancred’s seen those. I can’t say if he’s a thief, but there’s no reason for him to have stolen them.
– How do I know you’re not telling me this because you mistrust me?
– I can’t help you there, Detective.
For Detective Mandelshtam, an unexpectedly difficult question: should he meet with Tancred or speak to him on the phone? In the end, he decided they should meet. Phoning him was not the act of a friend, and it felt as if a long, potentially awkward phone conversation would have done damage to their friendship. An interview in person, being more official, carried less emotional weight – for him, at least, if not for Tancred. Besides, he wanted to see Tancred’s face. Knowing him as well as
he did, he was certain he’d get at least a hint – from his expressions – of the kind of trouble he was in.
On this occasion, they met nowhere in particular: a Starbucks at Dovercourt and Dundas. They were both uncomfortable and neither could hide it. Daniel led with a joke about a filthy bus terminal (a crusty bus station) and a lobster with breast implants (a busty crustacean) but Tancred had heard it and managed no more than a perfunctory smirk.
– I hear, said Daniel, you’re treasure hunting. You don’t have to say anything, Tan. Just let me get a few words out. You’ve never stolen anything in 14 Division before. Not that I know of. So, I’ve never had to say anything to you. But now I do. I’m going to have to look into all this more closely and I’ve got to do this by the book. The way I figure it, you’re the one who stole a model from Mrs. Azarian-Grau, a painting from Mrs. Azarian-Thomson, a bottle from Michael Azarian and a screen from Willow Azarian. I don’t know why you stole them. When I spoke to Alton Azarian he told me there’s some idea out there that his father left treasure somewhere around the Weiden plot or in the Weiden mausoleum in Mount Pleasant Cemetery. The thing that upsets me more than having to go after you is that, from what I can tell, you’re doing this with Nigger Colby and his psychopath. I’m worried about you, Tan. This isn’t how the Tancred I know operates. So, I assume there’s something wrong.
Daniel had planned to observe Tancred as he said all this but, of course, he hadn’t been watching him at all. He’d been thinking how difficult all of this was, difficult to accept that he and Tancred were on opposite sides of a fence. He’d kept his head down, but he looked up to say
– Fiona and I have about fifty thousand dollars in a joint account. It’s my money, mostly, but I asked if she’d mind if I gave it to you and she had no problem with that at all. I didn’t tell her why. I didn’t have to. Look, I know you’re going to turn it down. It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. But I’m asking you this one favour. Please, Tan, if you’ve got problems you can solve with money, please think about it. No strings attached. We both love you and we couldn’t forgive ourselves if anything happened to you. So, I just want you to consider it. For our sakes. It’s not going to change how I handle the theft of the Azarian things. I’m going to do the best job I can. You know that. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to say, really.
Tancred, moved by his friend’s offer, said
– Why didn’t you just arrest me, Danny? I’d have understood.
– For petty theft? I don’t have proof. If there’s any to find, I’ll find it. But it’s the Nigger thing that bugs me. He and Luxemberg are idiots, but idiots can be dangerous. If you’re into them for a few thousand, I’d rather deal with that. If the problem’s money.
– Errol thinks this is about thousands of dollars, maybe millions. He’s convinced I know something about Azarian’s money.
– Do you?
– I’m not going to tell you, said Tancred. I don’t want you on this side of the fence. But the thing is, Errol and Freud tried to get to me through Ollie.
– I thought so.
– So, I’m co-operating with them. I don’t have a choice.
Though he knew how Tancred would answer, Daniel asked nevertheless
– Have they done anything I could pick them up for?
– I want you to know, said Tancred, and be sure you tell Fiona, that I’m sorry to have put you through this. I promise you, Dan, if it’d been the kind of thing that could be solved by fifty thousand, I’d have taken your money. But it’s not that kind of thing.
– Let’s promise, said Daniel, that until this is all over, we’re not going to see each other. I’m not going to call. I don’t want you to call me. Because if you say something that helps me catch you and Nigger, I’ll use it.
– It’s a deal, said Tancred.
As they’d done all their lives – but now with a hint of self-mockery – they shook pinkies, though neither man would have thought for a moment of breaking his promise. Then they spoke of other things.
1 Alton Azarian Clears Things Up
It was dumbfounding to enter the apartment on Winnett and find it empty. There was not a thing left: none of the Azarians’ pieces, no furniture, not even the plastic cutlery Tancred had brought or the futons and bedsheets he and Ollie had been sleeping on.
Tancred’s first thought was that Colby and Freud had taken everything. But why would they have taken his table, his chairs, his bedding and futons? That made no sense. Even the Azarian mementos were useless to them, as neither Colby nor Freud had the least idea how to interpret them. His second thought was that von Würfel had raided him. But that made even less sense. Von Würfel already had copies of the Azarian pieces. Daniel’s was the next name to come to mind, but it was there only a microsecond. This kind of thing was so unlike Daniel it was impossible to believe he was involved. That left, in effect, only the Azarians. So, when there were three firm knocks at the door, Tancred tried to imagine which of them it might be.
His first impression of Alton Azarian was of fashionable clothes, the smell of a cologne that wedded patchouli and cocoa, and a recent haircut that had something of a pompadour to it. He was not young. His hair was so black it looked as if it had recently been fitted to his scalp. The skin on his face was facelift-taut. In kind lighting, he might have passed for sixty. He was at least sixty-five, though, and Tancred’s first impression was of a man afraid of death.
With him, a discreet but looming presence: a tall, muscular man in a black suit, his delts and traps built up so that his head seemed perched on a mound. A chauffeur, as it turned out.
Alton Azarian introduced himself and extended a hand.
– I assume you’re Tancred, he said, and I imagine you were expecting me or, at least, one of us.
– I wasn’t sure what to expect, said Tancred. Come in?
– No, no, said Alton, there’s nowhere to sit. I’m inviting you to Scaramouche. I’ve made a dinner reservation for us. Is that acceptable? The restaurant was not one Tancred would have chosen. It was intimidating, with its wood-and-glass decor and windows that looked down onto the lights of the city. The place evidently put Alton Azarian at ease, however. The man ordered two bottles of a Quintarelli Alzero, one for himself and one for Tancred.
– It’s a little overpriced, he said, but I like the wine.
Azarian recommended the lamb for Tancred and had filet mignon himself. When they’d finished eating, he ordered a Château d’Yquem. The man had eaten little – not more than a quarter of his steak – and he’d drunk half a glass of the Alzero. The meal had been for Tancred’s benefit, it seemed. Perhaps Azarian had meant to reassure him. Or perhaps he was trying to put Tancred in his place, using generosity as a weapon. A shame, since Tancred – who rarely drank alcohol – could not have told a thousand-dollar bottle of wine (the Alzero) from a chalky plonk.
– I want you to know, Azarian said, that I’m not obliged to you. I don’t owe you anything. A part of me feels you exploited my sister. On the other hand, while she was alive, Willow must have thought highly of you, and Simone was impressed as well. We’re all impressed by you. If I ever need a thief, I know whom to call. On the other hand, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’d make a lousy detective. There’s so much you don’t understand.
Azarian wet his lips with the Sauterne.
– In light of Willow’s admiration for you, he said, my siblings and I agreed it would be fair if I filled in the blanks for you. For Willow’s sake. So, to begin with …
Immediately after their father’s death, Alton had hired a private investigator to keep an eye on Willow – not to snoop on her, exactly, but to make sure she wasn’t hurt. That hadn’t worked out. Willow had noticed him and, assuming he was up to no good, she’d had him beaten up by one of the albino’s associates, the one named Freud Luxemberg. Still, the investigator, poor man, hadn’t been useless. Before being roughed up, he’d been pretty thorough. They knew, for instance, where Willow went fo
r heroin, who she associated with and, most importantly, that no one believed Willow was wealthy. Her siblings hoped none of the sociopaths who hung around Parkdale would believe her ravings about treasure.
– Do you believe in this treasure? asked Alton.
For a moment, Tancred considered telling the man about the ‘harp’ he’d found in the mausoleum, just to see the look on his face.
– I don’t know what to believe, he said.
– Then why were you looking around the mausoleum?
– I promised Willow I’d look into this business. She’s the one who told me about it.
– It’s good of you to keep your promise. But why didn’t she go there herself?
– I don’t know, said Tancred. But if you knew she was an addict, why didn’t you have her committed?
Alton pursed his lips and shook his head.
– I loved my sister, he said. We all did. We pleaded with her to get help. We tried an intervention. It’s not that we wouldn’t have had her committed. But it would have been our last resort. It would have been humiliating for all of us.
Alton believed that the worst idea his father ever had was to use his bequests as clues in a treasure hunt. His children – all save Willow – understood why he’d done it. He’d told them why. He’d meant to keep Willow occupied, to take her mind off his death, to take her mind off drugs, to bring her back to her old self. To be fair, the idea had been intermittently successful. When Willow was not high or incapacitated, she was at least engaged by something.
None of them had taken the decline of Willow’s mind into account, however. The younger Willow would have found the ‘treasure’ their father had left in no time. But the woman she’d become was confused, deluded, unable to properly read the clues.
– You never really met my little sister, said Alton. Willow was the smartest person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known some brilliant people.
Alton – too optimistic – was convinced she would eventually arrive at the mausoleum. But it occurred to him that Willow, who’d never been good at keeping secrets, might point the wrong people to the mausoleum, and he wanted to know who any such wrong people might be. So, he’d hired Delmer McDougal to keep an eye on it and on the grounds around it. The mausoleum was not only a message to Willow. It was also a shrine to the Weidens, his father’s closest friends. It was right that it should be protected from desecration.
