The Icing on the Corpse

by Mary Jane Maffini

  “They found her body.” Alvin dropped his voice.

  “Whose body?”

  “Holy shit, keep your voice down,” Merv said. “Lindsay will hear.” Lindsay lay motionless on the sofa, covered with a mohair throw.

  “You're the one yelling, Merv.”

  “Settle down, troops,” Mrs. Parnell whispered. “There was a news bulletin, Camilla. The body of a woman has been dumped in a snowbank off one of the side roads west of Kanata.”

  Alvin whispered, “Benning's wife.”

  Eight

  They gave her name on the radio? Before notifying her family?” I couldn't believe it.

  Mrs. Parnell nodded. “Someone who was being interviewed blurted it out. Must have been traumatic finding her. She'd been beaten.”

  From the sofa, Lindsay murmured, “What happened?”

  Merv and Alvin broke out of their statue routine. Merv loped over and sat by her side. He picked up her small white hand. “It's okay,” he said.

  “Is it Ralph?” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Merv gave me a warning look. “No.”

  Alvin dug an elbow in my ribs. Even Mrs. Parnell shook her head. What was this dopiness? Why would we keep this information from Lindsay?

  “Please, what is it?” Lindsay sat up, small and shaky.

  Merv said, “Nothing. And nothing will happen to you while I'm alive to prevent it.”

  From Lindsay's other side, Alvin slid onto the sofa. “Goes double for me.”

  Lindsay appeared not to have heard them. She leaned forward, head in her hands. “It is Ralph, isn't it? No one can stop him.”

  “I can stop him,” said Merv.

  “Me, too,” said Alvin.

  Lindsay was right, even if she didn't have all the facts yet. I knew it even if those two bozos didn't. Time to set the record straight here. I opened my mouth. Mrs. Parnell motioned me to step aside.

  “In a minute,” I said.

  “It's important.” She gripped her walker and headed for the kitchen.

  Fine. I followed her.

  “Wait until the right time to tell her,” she said, when we were out of earshot. “She's a bit shell-shocked. We're not all suitable for life in the trenches.”

  “Oh, come on. She's not a child. She has a right to know. Do you think she won't hear it on the news? She's shown courage. What's wrong with you people?”

  “Not everyone is like you, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “Maybe not, but she's an intelligent woman, and she…”

  “Let us be circumspect.”

  “Mrs. Parnell, I expect you to be sensible. What is gained by not telling her?”

  “She's traumatized. You should wait until she's had a chance to let those pills take effect. I recognize the situation is serious. Nevertheless, we have to be gentle if we want her to get over this.”

  “Listen, she's the one whose life is in danger. And she's already doped to the ears.”

  “The police are bound to catch up with him after this. But in the meantime, even if he shows up, she's safe with us here.”

  “I hope to hell we're up to the task.”

  Mrs. Parnell straightened up smartly. “Up to it? This will be our finest hour.”

  Maybe. I'd already found out the hard way I can fend off a murderer. Mrs. P. was equal to any emergency, although you'd never guess it. Merv had the security training. He and Alvin were prepared to lay down their lives for Lindsay if they had to.

  On the other hand, how many officers were searching for Ralph Benning and had failed? How had he managed to evade them? I hoped Mrs. P. was right. I couldn't let myself think about Rina Benning's last moments. We would mourn her once Lindsay was safe.

  Until Benning made his next move, there didn't seem to be a goddam thing we could do.

  I swallowed my pride and put in another call to my brother-in-law to be. Not that he answered or that anyone in her right mind would expect him to during this emergency. But I can't stand sitting around.

  I stalked through the house. Up to the second floor and then down. Opened every door. Tried each window. Stepped out on both balconies. Stretched my neck into the attic crawl space. Crawled under the beds. Snooped around the walk-in clothes cupboards. Reached behind the coats and the out-of-season wardrobe. Stuck my nose past the shower curtain. Poked around in the front entrance closet, behind Lindsay's fur coat and ski gear. Peered in behind suitcases and packing boxes in the basement. Checked inside the movers' boxes still stacked three high. Inspected the gas furnace. Merv had done pretty much the same thing a couple of hours earlier.

  The two musketeers were still huddled around Lindsay when I arrived back in the living room. Mrs. Parnell hulked in her chair looking vigilant and more than a little dangerous.

  I cleaned up the spilled sherry. Then I slipped on my Sorels and the beaver coat, pulled on the hat and stuck my nose out the door. The cruiser was still parked in front of the building.

  “Keep an eye on me,” I said to Mrs. Parnell.

  Once she'd lurched across the room, I stepped through the door. I stood on the front steps and scanned the street. Intermittent traffic inched along the smooth curve of Colonel By Drive. Across the road, a lone jogger, face covered by a balaclava, puffed along the canal footpath. From the vantage point of the steps, I could see small packs of resolute skaters glide along the ice of the canal, scarves fluttering. No need to worry this year about melting ice or rain. Just the clink of falling fingers and noses. You don't have to be crazy to live in Ottawa in the winter, but it helps.

  We had a new police shift parked in front of the house. The driver looked vaguely familiar. The two officers watched the jogger head around the bend and under the Queensway. They probably figured a jogger, wearing black, could get real close to Lindsay's place in the dark. And all joggers look alike. When the runner puffed out of sight, one of the cops turned to watch the skaters and the other scanned the condo front and sides. He spotted me, looking nothing short of dangerous in my get-up. He climbed out of the cruiser and placed his hand near his holster. Oh good, my tax dollars hard at work yet again.

  Still, was it enough?

  “Heard the news?” I asked. The other officer was female, although it was hard to tell with her police-issue winter hat. At least she didn't have the fur flap down, Fargo-style. She was sipping Tim Hortons coffee, the cup held in her leather-gloved hands. The two of them exchanged glances.

  “What's he got to lose?” I said.

  “Do I know you?” The driver squinted at me.

  “Camilla MacPhee. Justice for Victims, Constable James. And you know damn well who I am and why I'm here.”

  I'd seen him in court often enough, and he had an easy name to remember.

  “Oh right. I heard you were here.”

  I just smiled. Even if the Ottawa force hadn't sent Mr. Congeniality, I was glad they'd sent two officers, and they were awake and suspicious. Suspicious was just what we needed.

  I was suspicious too. Not to mention worried about just how secure Lindsay's building really was. If Ralph Benning had nothing to lose before, now he had less than nothing. Getting shot by the cops was the best he could hope for. If the laws of physics permitted it, Benning would do it.

  So did the laws of physics permit Benning to get into Lindsay's house? Only one way to find out. “You want to let the guy in the back know I'm coming around to check things out?” No point in getting shot myself.

  Lindsay's place was an end unit. Pricey, an extra wall of windows with a panoramic view down the frozen canal. Glamorous. Security was well thought out. Floodlights eliminated most shadows. I pussyfooted along the side of the unit, feeling the eyes of the two officers on me. Motion detectors picked up my movements, and more lights flicked on. A shadowy Mrs. Parnell dogged my footsteps from window to window. I nodded. She waved her Benson and Hedges.

  The back was an open courtyard with visitor parking. I peered under the small deck at Lindsay's utilit
y entrance, but it was a pro forma exercise. I couldn't imagine Benning holed up on the petrified ground letting himself freeze to death. Although one could always hope.

  In the back of the condo, I crunched in the snow, which was near the top of my Sorels. In the dark kitchen window, the tip of Mrs. Parnell's cigarette glowed.

  If it hadn't been for the fog of breath on the window, I might not even have spotted the officer in the unmarked car, out of view. He'd spotted me though. I ambled over to the driver's side. He opened the window. I was glad the police were covering the house so well, even if he didn't look pleased to see me.

  “Did you hear Benning killed his wife?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “We don't want another tragedy. You tracking the cars coming in and out? You have to inform us if you see anything suspicious. Here's a cell number.” I gave him Merv's.

  “I think you're suspicious.” He wrinkled his nose. Might have been from residual mothballs on the beaver coat.

  “Funny.” I turned and headed back. I stopped at the cruiser out front first.

  “Can I do something else for you?” Officer James asked.

  “Sure, you can make sure we all stay off the major media by keeping my client alive.” You can always tell when people bite their tongues. “Let's not forget Benning slipped past a bunch of your boys at his wife's place.”

  The faces hardened.

  “He has the same grudge against Lindsay Grace,” I said. “Make sure you keep her alive.”

  “We have round-the-clock surveillance. We know what he's capable of. He shot an officer, remember? We want him just as badly as you do.”

  “What about the roof? How do you know he won't come across the roof, rappel down the side or back of the house and cut his way into one of the windows? Or cut a hole through the roof itself?”

  Their eyes met again. I thought the second officer mouthed the word “crackpot.”

  “Trust me,” I said, “Nothing's too farfetched in this case.”

  “We're on the job here. You head back inside and let us do it.”

  “Make sure you're up to it. One woman dead in a day is more than enough. You people didn't keep him away from her.” I figured making them mad would keep their adrenaline up nicely, make them more alert.

  The driver blurted, “She gave them the slip.” His colleague's coffee slopped as she reached over to touch his arm. A gentle way of saying, shut up you fool.

  If I'd had coffee, I would have slopped it too. “She gave them the slip? No way she would have wanted to elude her police protection. I don't believe it.”

  The woman officer spoke as she mopped up her coffee. “Believe what you want. If you want news updates, turn on your radio. That's not our job.” She reached over and the window slid up.

  I stomped back to the condo, trying to imagine why Rina Benning would flee from safety straight into the arms of death.

  Mrs. Parnell was the only person in the motley crew guarding Lindsay who made any sense. I had to admire her. But even so, by eight-thirty that evening I was tired of her company. There's a limited amount of time you want to spend in someone else's kitchen while your neighbour expounds on her hobby, the allied leaders of World War II.

  On the other hand, Churchill and Rommel were fascinating compared to Alvin and Merv, still fawning over Lindsay in the living room. I did my damnedest to tune out their voices. At least I didn't have to listen to their stomachs growl as the traditional meal hour came and went. I'd already checked Lindsay's cupboards, fridge and freezer. Except for the quality coffee, they were enough to give empty a good name. Unless you counted the two slices of bread still left in the bag and the pat of butter on a pretty plate on the dairy shelf. Under the circumstances, take-out seemed ill advised. It seemed wiser to get some food into the house, to keep up Lindsay's strength.

  I felt a moment's twinge about having gotten my sisters in such a snit. Otherwise I might have been able to call one of them to bring over provisions without revealing why. Oh well. Mrs. Parnell never appeared to eat anyway. I resigned myself to a gurgling stomach until the morning arrived or Benning was captured. Perhaps we could arrange for the next shift of cops to bring us some doughnuts.

  In the meantime, Mrs. Parnell and I sat in the kitchen and busied ourselves trying to find out more about Rina Benning. With the portable TV relocated and a pair of radios set to different stations, we had been able to determine a body had indeed been found, apparently bludgeoned. Despite the early blurting of her name, we had no official confirmation. The police and the Coroner have procedures.

  The media are inventive at skirting procedures, but P. J. was still incommunicado. The evening dragged on. Mrs. Parnell found herself out of sherry. I found myself pacing.

  She checked every cupboard in the kitchen and came up empty. It seemed to make her critical. “You know your problem, Ms. MacPhee?”

  “I'm too polite?”

  “You are too driven. You have to learn to focus more and relax.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Focus is the first principle of effective surveillance.”

  Not for the first time, I gawked at her. The long, elderly body, the sharp nose, the startling ears, the perpetual cigarette, tip glowing. The wispy hair disappearing into a bun, the gnarled knuckles. “It is?”

  “Of course, Ms. MacPhee. Check any basic surveillance manual.” I didn't have a basic surveillance manual. And I was surprised to hear Mrs. Parnell did. Although it wasn't the strangest thing about her by a long shot.

  “You have a manual on surveillance?”

  “Covert operations. You could learn a lot from them, Ms. MacPhee. A bit of patience would do wonders for you.”

  “I don't have time for it.”

  “Blood, sweat and tears,” she said, “but no sherry. I will try the dining room. I think I saw a cabinet there. You keep your ears open for breaking news.”

  “You should stay put. If Benning shows up, we'd be better off cold sober.”

  “Speak for yourself. I am always ready to fight.”

  “Right, Elaine.” I held Merv's cellphone away from my ear. “I'm glad it's going well. Yep. I'm sorry to miss out on that sculpture activity, and I'm glad you understand that this is where I have to be. Lindsay's safety has to take priority. I'm sure building an ice sculpture is a great way to solidify relationships. Really wish I could be with you, but I'll help WAVE some other time. And Alvin will too.” I ignored the look I got from him. “I know he was keen to take part in the ice sculpture contest. And as I said before, we would love to be with you, enjoying the outdoors, instead of cooped up here without a bite to eat.”

  Both Merv and Mrs. Parnell listened with amusement. I didn't appreciate the smirks. Elaine was the most single-minded, stubborn person I knew. Even worse than my sisters. Let them try to deal with her sometime, I thought.

  “In fact,” I added, “if you are looking for volunteers, next time, don't forget to ask Merv and Mrs. Parnell. They're both extremely good-humoured. Don't thank me. Stay in touch.”

  Merv's phone rang so quickly I thought it was Elaine again. P. J.'s voice was a relief.

  “Well, well, Clark Kent. Great to hear from you. At last.”

  “I'm short on time, Tiger. Whatcha got?”

  “Interesting stuff but first, tell me, what the hell is going on? We heard Rina Benning has been murdered. How could Benning get her?”

  “Don't have official confirmation yet on that, but it looks like she went out to meet him. Christ, can you believe that?” I could picture P. J. running his fingers through his wiry red curls.

  “Not even possible. I can't believe they'd let her go,” I said.

  “You and me both, but apparently she distracted the guard and drove off to meet him. So what's the scoop?”

  “It can't be true.”

  “It is. They found a message from him on her answering machine. He asked her to meet him in the usual place. Told her he loved her and he wouldn't hurt her and he had to see h
er before he died.”

  “Oh my God. And she actually went? Do they know where he is?”

  “They have no goddam idea. So what do you have for me?

  Where's Lindsay Grace hiding out?”

  “What? I can hardly hear you. The batteries must be running low on this thing.”

  “You mentioned you had some information. Hey, come on, Tiger.”

  “P. J.? Are you there? Hello? Hello? Damn it, Merv. It's time you bought a decent cellphone.”

  I hung up.

  We had spent a long and jumpy evening irritating each other and listening to stomachs growl, when the doorbell sent us all skyward at nine forty-five. A couple of Alvin's earrings scratched the ceiling.

  “Lights out,” Mrs. Parnell yelled. “Hit the floor belly first and keep moving till you are in the trench.”

  I reached the front door before Merv and grabbed an umbrella for protection. I pressed the button on the airphone. Elaine Ekstein's cheerful voice came as a surprise.

  “Elaine?”

  “Holy moly, open up, the pizza's getting cold.”

  Elaine stood like Nanook of the North with a pile of boxes. Over her shoulder Officer James loomed, carrying a cardboard box. Behind him the cruiser idled, with the female officer in view.

  Elaine kicked off her furry boots. They careened across the marble entrance floor. The heel from the left one left a jaunty little scuffmark on the fresh taupe paint on the wall. “I decided to take the high road. The WAVE sculpture team seems to have everything under control. I decided you need me more than they do. Justice is well served. So I put my money where my mouth is and headed to the Colonnade.”

  “And not a moment too soon,” I said.

  “Pizza?” Merv took his eyes off Lindsay in the heat of the moment. The moment didn't last long. Merv resumed the lovesick schtick before you could say pepperoni and anchovies.

  “That's the best.” Alvin stood and flicked his ponytail in approval. It's always hard to tell when Alvin's excited, but the parrots on his shirt seemed to be engaged in some hula activity.

  Merv pressed his advantage and gave Lindsay a soothing stroke on the shoulder.