The Icing on the Corpse

by Mary Jane Maffini

  “I am absolutely convinced.”

  “Be that as it may, it's not as though she didn't bring all this trouble on herself.”

  I couldn't agree, at least not out loud. “Neither here nor there. Anyway, someone's definitely trying to frame her. The information hasn't been released to the media yet, but the police have a videotape of an unidentified person wearing Elaine's fake leopard coat and hat depositing the body in the Crystal Garden.”

  “Ah ha! Videotaped proof. And she says she did it. No wonder you are convinced of her innocence, Ms. MacPhee.”

  “No need to be sarcastic. The person in Elaine's hat and coat kept his or her face turned away. And if it had been Elaine, she'd have stopped to thumb her nose at the camera.”

  Mrs. Parnell sipped her sherry. When she came up for air she said, “Perhaps she didn't see the camera.”

  “No. She's been involved in so many women's committees on safety and security, she'd know where there were cameras, security guards, emergency phones in a downtown area in the night. Plus I am sure you realize, she couldn't kill someone in cold blood.”

  “Nevertheless, I expect it will do her a bit of good being locked up.”

  “Let me say this one more time. Elaine did not commit this crime. She might be her own worst enemy, but she does not belong in jail.”

  “I concede, Ms. MacPhee. I suppose we should rise to the occasion. So what is our plan of attack?”

  I plunked my glass on the table. “I think someone made fools of all of us. We're too emotionally involved with Elaine.…”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “…and Lindsay.”

  “Ah, yes. Lindsay.”

  “We need to figure out what's really going on here. I'll talk, you react.”

  “Splendid. Let us begin with the big question: if not Ms. Ekstein, then who?”

  “I'll do the talking. Okay, in a typical murder, the guilty party is likely either a spouse, lover, family member or close friend, or a business associate with serious cash to gain or lose, or some drugged-out thug who meets the victim in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  She nodded. She loved this kind of thing.

  “Call me sentimental,” I said, “but I figure you, Alvin, and Merv are not the perpetrators.”

  “Excellent. I will assume the same for you, Ms. MacPhee. And surely you can eliminate the random mugger. Whoever did this was organized, mobile and had done all the proper reconnaissance work.”

  “Never mind reconnaisance work, the killer must have known Elaine well in order to set her up by wearing her clothes. Otherwise that video didn't make sense.”

  “It is not necessary to keep banging your glass on the table.”

  “If you'll give me a chance to talk, I won't have to. Let's see, the spouse is usually the most likely suspect. But Rina was dead long before Benning's body rolled into the Crystal Garden.”

  “Someone in the late Ms. Benning's family might have the motivation,” Mrs. P. said.

  “I thought of that, but how could they have framed Elaine?”

  Mrs. P. wasn't giving up. “Nevertheless, let us leave no stone unturned.”

  Lucky me, I had my pen and paper. I started a TO DO list for Alvin and wrote “leave no stone unturned” on it.

  “Lovers are right up there with spouses,” I said.

  “Well, Ms. MacPhee, Lindsay is the most obvious of the lovers. Let us speculate that she exited the house in the night while we conveniently slept, slipped into Elaine's hat and coat and wheeled Benning's body into the Crystal Garden, all the while keeping her lovely face averted from the cameras. She certainly had the means and opportunity to drug us. And presumably him. He would not have been afraid of her.”

  I hated this version.

  “And what if Lindsay did kill him? She had reason enough. I quite like the girl,” Mrs. Parnell said.

  “You think I don't? Lindsay definitely had means, opportunity and big-time motive. The police wouldn't have to work hard to convince the Crown about that. She feared for her life and rightly so. She was much better off with him dead. She said it was time she opted for fight over flight.”

  “High time she did, too. Good for her.”

  “If he contacted her, she could easily have lured him to meet her. But it's still murder and premeditated. And may I remind you, if Lindsay did do it, that means she's deliberately framed Elaine.”

  Mrs. Parnell topped up her sherry. Lester and Pierre cheeped.

  I rubbed my forehead. “On the other hand, let's use our brains. Lindsay's so delicate, she'd never have the strength to move a body.”

  “Nonsense, Ms. MacPhee, were you truant during all your high school physics classes?”

  So I'd skipped a few of them, but how did she know? “What?”

  “Pulleys, wheels, incline planes, winches and other contrivances. Don't forget the pyramids, Ms. MacPhee. Moving the body wouldn't be the big problem. No, in favour of Lindsay's innocence, I would say she loved Ralph Benning.”

  “I'm with you there, but we have to think it through. There's something else troubling me. When we saw her in the morning, she was not wearing the same outfit she fell asleep in. Remember that cream-coloured cashmere ensemble? It should be in her home somewhere. It's not. I was searching for it when I got into that dust-up with Merv and Alvin.”

  “Another indication that she'd gone out,” she said.

  “What do you mean, another one?”

  “Did you notice her boots lying in a puddle in the foyer in the morning?”

  “Yes.” I hadn't realized Mrs. P. had spotted them too.

  “But how would she have eluded the officers outside?” Mrs. Parnell sipped her sherry speculatively.

  “They were obviously drugged too. I'm certain of that.”

  “Ah! The pizza or the coffee?”

  “Well, Lindsay didn't touch her pizza.”

  “Everyone else tore into theirs.”

  “That's the bad news. And everybody drank coffee. Even the cops, although we didn't actually see them drink it. Everybody except Lindsay.”

  “Troubling. But how would Lindsay have known where to find Elaine's coat?” A stream of smoke wafted by my face.

  “She didn't need to know in advance. She could have nipped the keys to the SUV, spotted the coat and hat and used them to throw suspicion onto Elaine.”

  “To cast suspicion on a friend, that is not in the least bit sporting. If she did that, she'll get no sympathy from these quarters.”

  “Wait a minute, this is all conjecture. I still don't think it was either Elaine or Lindsay. Elaine's nutty, but not cruel, and this was a cruel crime. I can't imagine Lindsay carrying out such a calculated scheme. Never mind showing enough imagination to encase the bastard in ice. But if the police or the Crown get wind of the fact Lindsay left the house, they might even decide Elaine and Lindsay colluded to kill Benning.”

  “They could both end up in the hoosegow. We will have to get busy, Ms. MacPhee.” She leaned over and refilled my glass before I could protest.

  “You bet. And while we're busy, we should ask ourselves why they're both lying. You can stay up and do that. This sherry is messing up my brain, and I need a good night's sleep so I can think clearly in the morning. So hand over my key.”

  “Young people. Personally, I believe sleep is highly overrated.”

  I had a faint post-sherry throb in my temple when Alexa showed up at my door, in full make-up, at eight-thirty the next morning.

  “No can do. I have a full slate today. And I'm already way behind schedule.”

  “This will take a minute.”

  “Look, Alexa, I see the light of madness in your eyes. But even so, we both know it will not take a minute for me to pick out a bridesmaid's dress. I don't have a spare couple of hours today. So forget it.”

  “Not a chance. I'll be in your face until you get that dress, so get with the program.”

  In your face? Get with the program? What had happened to my warm-
hearted favourite sister? I headed for the kitchen.

  “You know, Alexa,” I said as the coffee worked its slow, slow way through the drip, “this wedding has eaten your brain. You know, Paul and I just eloped, if you remember…”

  Talk about a reaction. “Of course I remember.”

  “Why are you yelling?”

  “Maybe you and Paul were happy, but no one else was.”

  “What?”

  “Who do you think dealt with Daddy, Little Miss Totally Utterly Selfish?”

  My next door neighbour banged on the wall.

  “Fine, maybe my elopement wasn't such a big hit with the family. So what?”

  “So what? So what? The elopement, as you so casually call it, was the worst calamity ever in our family.”

  “Be serious.”

  “How do you think Daddy reacted when his youngest daughter married outside the Church? It almost killed him.”

  “Keep your voice down. Do you think I want to get evicted?”

  “Easy for you. Daddy thought you were going to hell and you were boinking on a beach somewhere…

  “Boinking?” That was hardly fair. Paul and I had had an ideal honeymoon, nibbling beignets, moving to the street music of New Orleans, making love. Not that I ever let myself think about that.

  “Who do you think calmed Daddy down? I respected your choice. I didn't have the choice of a beautiful wedding the first time, and I want one.”

  “Fine. But I have to get Elaine out of jail.”

  “My wedding is more important.”

  “Elaine is more important than some outdated mating ritual.” Oh, dirty trick. She started to cry. “Come on, Alexa. Calm down.”

  “I will not. You're miserable because you have no one in your life, and you're so grouchy you'll never have anybody either and you want everyone else to suffer too.”

  “Fine. I'll go get the goddam dress. Just stop blubbering.”

  Alexa fixed her makeup yet again, this time using the rearview mirror as we waited at a red light. She kept talking while she fluffed her hair. “Promise me you'll behave.”

  “Of course I'll behave.”

  “Of course, nothing. You know what you're like.”

  “Fine. Don't cry.”

  “If you promise to behave I'll give you a nice bit of gossip.”

  “Like I care about gossip.”

  “It's not gossip. It's more like information. You'll care about this. I guarantee it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Say, I promise to behave like a normal human being.”

  “This better be good.”

  “It's good. Promise.”

  “Okay, what's the poop?”

  “When we're finished shopping.”

  Some things are easier said than done. “That could be a while. We're in the Market in the winter. We'll never get a parking space.”

  “There's a car pulling out.” A Saab driven by a man with a competitive look positioned itself to nose in ahead of her.

  Alexa gunned her Volvo. Mr. Saab took one look at Alexa's face and reversed hastily. Alexa shot into the spot.

  “I liked you more before you morphed into the Überbride.”

  Alexa snatched her purse and opened the door. “Hop to it.”

  When we reached the shop, she grabbed my arm. “Listen to me. You're going to be polite to the sales staff and you're going to find a dress and then you can go do your so-called important items. And in the meantime, I don't want any bullshit from you. Do I make myself clear?” She brushed a snowflake from her nose.

  “Oh, yes.”

  The minute they opened for business, I followed her through the door of doom into Mimi Melanson's Bridal Bower.

  “It's an emergency,” Alexa told the assembled sales force.

  To do them credit, no one remarked on my red wool hat, although I noticed one sales clerk had trouble taking her eyes off it. I smiled at her and stroked the hairs on my upper lip.

  The woman blanched. “Well,” she said, “we'll give it a shot.”

  Go ahead, I thought, let's see you cope with the long underwear, the thermal socks and the fleece. The conversation dragged a bit from that point, because I found myself silenced by the acres of peau de soie and tons of seed pearls.

  An hour and a half later we headed out, still dressless. The entire staff looked ready to bolt for the back room in search of a bracing snort of brandy.

  Alexa got into the car and slammed the door behind her. I opened the passenger side and slid in. “It's not my fault every single dress looked awful on me.”

  “I wouldn't say awful”

  “Revolting then. Let's have that information.”

  “You don't deserve it.”

  “Yes, I do. And you'd better keep your end of the bargain if you want me to behave the next time we shop.”

  “All right. Tomorrow. Holt Renfrew.”

  “No problem.”

  “Well, all right. It's about the police officers stationed outside Lindsay Grace's home the night of the murder.”

  I held my breath.

  “I overhead another detective talking to Conn. Don't let on I told you. Apparently, they were drugged.”

  “Of course they were drugged.”

  “You knew?”

  “Not hard to figure out. Did all of them show evidence of drugs?”

  Alexa pursed her lips. “I overheard a conversation. I didn't read a report.” “No need to be crabby.”

  “I am not crabby. Anyway, Miss-Know-It-All, the guy told Conn they had the results back from the lab and it sounded like Row-something. Maybe in their coffee.”

  Rohypnol. Better known on the street as roofies. The date rape drug.

  “Well, Elaine sure wouldn't drug anyone. Who knows, one of us could have polished off two or three cups of coffee and then what?”

  “They're convinced she did it.”

  “Where would Elaine get Rohypnol, for God's sake?”

  “Stop snapping at me. He didn't say how she got it, but he did mention she gave a pot of coffee to the officers. The row-something showed up in their urine.”

  True. “Rats.”

  “You're Elaine's lawyer. Wouldn't they have to give you this information anyway?”

  “Sure. In time.”

  “That's why I could tell you with a clear conscience. So you have a head start. And tomorrow we'll get your dress.”

  I closed my eyes and replayed the scene in the kitchen. I'd slugged down a large mug of coffee from the same thermos Constable James had carried to the cruiser. Elaine had poured hers from the same thermos the others did. It was damned unlikely she'd dosed herself with Rohypnol.

  Too bad so much time had passed. There'd be no way to get reliable results from urine tests of the rest of us at this stage, so that wouldn't help us pinpoint anyone. Why the hell hadn't I thought of roofies? Plenty of my clients had been undone by them. The whole thing made me irritable.

  I got some of it out of my system by giving my sister a bit of advice. “You're about to marry a cop. You can't go around telling people what he says about the job.”

  “I'd never do that.”

  “You just did.”

  “No. Conn didn't say anything. The other fellow did. And it wasn't official police business, I joined them when they were socializing over a beer.”

  “Even so, you have to be careful not to repeat things. Except with me, of course.”

  “I thought you'd be pleased to have the inside story.”

  “Indeed, I'm thrilled. And since we're sharing inside information, do you have Leonard Mombourquette's cellphone number?”

  In my family, you press your advantage whenever you have one. As Alexa copied out the number and handed it to me, I looked straight ahead. “Is that a parking ticket on your windshield, Alexa?”

  Fourteen

  Iprefer not to break bread with Det. Sgt. Leonard Mombourquette. But I found myself between a rock and a rat. Even though it was nearly noon and I hadn't set f
oot in the office, Elaine had to be my priority.

  Mombourquette surprised me and agreed to meet at The Mayflower. He didn't even hesitate. When I arrived, on foot and out of breath, he was already waiting in a booth.

  “Nice hat,” he said.

  “Nice ears,” I said.

  It was lunchtime, and we opted for the Winterlude Specials. I had chicken pot pie. Mombourquette took the tourtière. We followed it up with carrot cake with cream cheese icing. “Gotta get all your food groups,” Mombourquette said.

  I agreed. I was glad to eat whenever I had the chance, since I had kissed regular meals goodbye.

  It was a long time to spend in Mombourquette's company, but I reminded myself Elaine merited serious sacrifice. On the up side, I figured he'd be as emotionally distanced from weddings as I was.

  “So,” I said, “this wedding fuss. Giving you a headache?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know all this hassle about the perfect flowers, they have to be calla lilies and they have to be the precise shade of cream. I mean, do you believe there are dozens of shades of cream, and then the lights matter a lot and the type of deckle on the edge of the invitations…”

  He shrugged.

  “Not to mention the hysteria about the music.”

  “Well…”

  “And the candles, for God's sake, they have to be special too.”

  “It's all…”

  “Exactly. Especially the business with the dresses. It's enough to make you nuts. Do I look like I want to wear a butt-ugly bridesmaid's dress at my age?”

  “What's eating you? I think the wedding will be beautiful. Two nice people happen to be very much in love and deserve some happiness. Why shouldn't they celebrate it?”

  I spilled a bit of coffee. Very much in love? “Sorry, call me crazy, but I remember you gave McCracken a hard time about getting involved with a member of my family.”

  “But now I understand the difference relationships can make in the quality of a person's life.”

  “Sorry? I missed that.”

  Mombourquette squirmed a bit on the banquette. “You know. Love.”

  “Love?” I'd never suspected Mombourquette was aware of the concept.

  He narrowed his beady little eyes. “Problem with that?”