I slipped my parka into the closet. “An accident.”
She smiled, turned and headed into the living room, “That's what we all say. Did you walk into a door? Trip on the stairs?”
I followed. “I shot head first into a snowbank.”
“Oh yes, happens a lot.” She sank into the sofa and stared at me.
I flushed. “This time it did.”
“Who am I to argue?” she said.
“Well, I guess you're right. It was a form of battering.”
“I wouldn't have taken you for the type. But Elaine says there's no type. We're all vulnerable.”
“Yes, well, I didn't do anything to…” I bit my tongue.
She raised an eyebrow. “Cause it?”
“No. Yes. I mean, it wasn't personal.”
“Um-humm.”
This time I didn't have a snappy comeback. Of course it was personal. No wonder she had that sad little smile. If a person pushes you into a snowbank, sticks their knees into your back and makes sure you can't get your face out, what else could it be but personal?
“You're right. Pretty goddam personal all right.”
“Yes.” Her dreamy expression returned. The one the boys seem to be susceptible to.
“You look tired. Can I make us a pot of coffee? I know my way around here.”
She frowned. “Coffee? Go ahead. You really think I look tired?”
Oops. Hadn't my sisters always told me you never tell a woman she looks tired unless you want to ruin her day? I did not want to ruin Lindsay's day. “Not tired, just oh, I don't know, distracted, perhaps. I'll put the coffee on. Be right back.”
Distracted? More like devastated. Anemic. Or even haunted. I had a better cover when I popped back in with two mugs of coffee five minutes later. “Maybe you're worried about that memorial service.”
“A person doesn't get over a bad relationship just because the partner dies, you know.”
Lindsay was susceptible to Benning. She had to deal with the death of hope, and the survival of love, fascination and desire. And I still looked with longing at Paul's photo on the wall of Justice for Victims. “Don't I know it.”
And Benning, what a residue of slime. Even dead, he sparked powerful emotions. I hated him. If I felt his presence, imagine what it would be like for Lindsay who had loved and feared him.
“Here's what happened to me. I was minding my own business, skating on the canal, on my way over to see you when a guy hit me behind the knees and knocked me into a snowbank. Then he knelt on my back and pushed me into the snow and waited until I lost consciousness. I assume at that point he left.”
“My God, you don't know who?”
“No idea. But logic tells me he's connected with this situation.”
“But who? Do you think it's because you were coming here?”
“No.”
“What if it was? How do you know?”
“No one knew where I was headed. I didn't know myself until I put on my skates and headed down the canal.”
“That's one thing to be thankful for, I guess.”
“But it had to do with my investigation. I rattled a few cages.”
“You must have rattled the wrong one.”
“Or the right one. I made someone nervous.”
She nibbled a polished nail. “Camilla, maybe you should be the one who's nervous.”
“Not my style.”
“You could have died.”
“Probably not. Thousands of people throng the canal. It would be hard to miss a pair of legs sticking out of a snowbank for any length of time.”
“But it wouldn't take long. He was prepared to let you die.”
I don't know why this was such a shock to me. I hadn't thought it through logically. I'd thought about being attacked but not about being murdered. Lindsay was right. This upped the ante. Whoever slammed me into that snowbank had been prepared to let me die. And I knew it had to be the same person who killed Benning.
“You're right,” I said, after a minute, feeling stupid.
“Did you see anyone?”
I closed my eyes and tried to remember the moment just before my headlong plunge. There had been something familiar. Someone I recognized? Or something. But what?
“No, I didn't see anyone. I think I know who was behind it in general terms, and you can help.”
“What do you mean, in general terms?”
“I seem to have created a real buzz with the police. I think that's the secret. I dropped in and made waves before the attack and I think that triggered it. I need to know who might have been Ralph Benning's police contact.”
She hesitated. “We don't know for sure that anyone helped him.”
“Fair enough. But I need to know who he dealt with.”
“Well, he'd been arrested so many times. He knew all the cops.”
I was getting impatient, and I let it show.
“Come on, Lindsay, get off the pot. There must have been one in particular. I need to know his name.”
I didn't expect her to laugh. “What's so funny?”
“I don't know the name. Ralph never told me. But based on what he implied, you're not searching for his name. You're looking for hers”
Twenty
Okay, so my week wasn't going well. I told myself things could have been worse and, sure enough, before long they were.
I figured I'd put in a normal day at work just to show the world. The fact that it was Sunday was no big deal. I opened the JFV door before nine, loaded with Tylenol and ready to fight back. I encountered my first setback. Alvin already occupied the office. The lamplight shone through the paper sun, the scent of coconut suntan lotion filled the air, and Jimmy Buffett was singing about sharks.
“It's Sunday. Why are you here, Alvin?”
“I have a present for you,” he said.
“Not a good time, Alvin.” Some of the aches and pains were breaking through the Tylenol barrier. Alvin was lucky I didn't make him eat that Jimmy Buffett boxed CD set.
“Listen, Camilla, did you or did you not send me to crawl through the transcripts of trials and newspaper reports of Benning's court appearances to find out which cops had the most dealings with him?”
“Yes.”
“And did I not spend huge quantities of my valuable evenings finding facts for you? I am an artist, not a detective, and it's taking away from my time for creative projects.”
“Get to the point, Alvin. I don't know what you've been doing, because you haven't told me.”
He turned his pointed nose to the wall.
“And don't sulk.”
“Who wouldn't sulk working with you?”
“Fine. Alvin? I'm all ears. I can't wait to get the details.”
His arms were folded, one eyebrow was raised and he concentrated on the phone as if it held untold fascination.
Time to bite the bullet.
“Okay. I was rude. I'm sorry, Alvin. I am under a certain amount of stress, and perhaps it's making me a bit testy.”
He snorted.
“Maybe more than a bit. But, go ahead, tell me what you found out.”
He obviously found the phone mesmerizing.
“Please,” I added.
“Fine. After I waded through tons of stuff for hours and hours and hours…”
I bit my tongue.
“…I came up with a few names. But the same names over and over again.”
“And?”
He whirled at me.
“Sorry,” I said. “It slipped out.”
Silence.
“Please continue.”
“Well, patterns started to emerge.”
I nodded encouragingly.
“You want to see them?”
“Please.”
“Then tell why you're always taking things out on me.”
“I don't know. I am sorry. I mean it.” I guess I did, too.
“Okay.” He jumped out of the chair and started taping up large sheets of flip chart pap
er on the wall. No one loves flip chart paper more than Alvin. His eyes glittered. “Have a gander. Impressive or what?”
The papers, with Alvin's meticulous neon highlighting, were as colourful as quilts. The sheets outlined Benning's arrests, complete with dates, arresting officers, subsequent charges, trial dates, pleas, court rulings and sentences when applicable. The sentences didn't appear often enough to suit me.
“Thoroughly impressive.”
He lowered his eyes modestly. “Check the highlighted names.”
Two names showed up with far more frequency than any others. You couldn't miss them. Particularly with that hot pink highlighter.
One was Sgt. Leonard Mombourquette.
Well. Well. Well.
The other was Constable Randy Cousins.
“You'll see the pattern,” Alvin said.
“Oh yes.”
“I did some analysis on the others and there are a few also-rans. Bridesmaids, I guess you could call them.”
“Don't use that word.”
“Some of these people had four or five encounters. I figured it was worthwhile noting the ones who had more contact with him than you'd expect.”
“Those would be the green highlighter?”
“Yipper.”
“And those with the blue, have two each. I guess that could happen.”
I read the array of incidents, encounters with the law, court dates. Lots of bad stuff there. Incident reports, even those calls that never turned into charges, well, it gave quite a picture.
“Hell of a guy, our Benning,” I said.”
“Yeah.”
“I wish I'd had this information before.”
“Think it would have made a difference?”
“You never know.”
“Hmmm.”
“My point is, Alvin, you found a lot of stuff I didn't encounter in the course of my research into Benning. And it's not like I didn't care deeply about the outcome.”
“Well, last spring, you remember, was not a normal time. We had the Mitzi Brochu affair on our minds.”
“Remember? I'm not likely to forget.”
“It's natural you wouldn't have done as thorough a job.”
“Kind of you to put it that way, Alvin, but the fact remains that you, using perfectly legal means, put together a far better collection of information about Benning than I did.”
Alvin lowered his eyes.
“Much as it pains me, I must congratulate you,” I said. “I'm surprised the courts and the police would be open with you.”
Alvin met my eyes. “Well, I wouldn't say perfectly legal means.”
Ah. “Mombourquette shows up a number of times.”
“Ten separate incidents. Possibly I may find a few more of the barely-in-the-picture kind if I keep going back.”
“Bit more than you'd expect by chance.”
“How many did Conn McCracken have?”
“Didn't find any. I checked wherever Mombourquette showed up. No sign of McCracken's name in any of the encounters.”
“That's a relief.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Alvin.
“But on the other hand, it makes you wonder. McCracken and Mombourquette have been working together for years. Why would Mombourquette be on his own for these incidents with Benning?”
“Crossed my mind too,” Alvin said.
“Our friend Lennie might have a long twitchy tail after all.”
“Bet he does,” said Alvin, “but he's not the most interesting development on these charts.”
“I see that.” Randy Cousins was number one by a long shot. I wondered if by any strange chance Cousins was one of the guys in the police gym.
“That Randy Cousins, if he'd spent any more time with Benning they'd have been Siamese twins.”
“Ugly thought, but spot on, Alvin.”
“Natch.”
“This Cousins. I guess I'll be tracking him down.”
“Maybe I should, Camilla. The police are on to you.”
“They're probably on to you too, Alvin.”
He looked insulted. “I'm subtle.”
“Maybe, but you're not my only secret weapon.”
“But, Camilla.”
“Excellent work, Alvin. Tell you what, why don't you take the rest of the day off. Take a well-earned break. Enjoy winter.”
He opened his mouth. But I had already reached to answer the telephone.
The second setback came when Alvin opened the door of Justice for Victims to an early caller. Sunboy had an extra lei in his hands as a gesture of welcome. Normally I would nip this behaviour early and sharply, but I was busy chewing my nails over current developments. Plus, I was on the phone.
“Sure, Edwina,” I was saying. “I do understand. It does not reflect well on the MacPhee family to have one of it's members making the news for being in hot water with the Law Society. Don't be silly. Of course I couldn't end up disbarred. And might I remind you, Daddy raised us to fight for what we believe and not to let bullies knock us down and win the day. Am I correct? This media stuff flap won't kill him, even if he is eighty years old.”
When Edwina gets her teeth into you, she never forgets that old rule about chew something forty times and you'll be able to digest it. I wasn't out of the woods yet. “Nearly eighty-one. And how do you know it won't kill him? Are you a doctor now?”
“No, but I could use one after talking to any member of my family for even the shortest time.” I ran a hand over my brow as I glanced toward the door where Alvin continued to prevent a large and sombre individual from entering. This person did not appear to be taking kindly to the Day-Glo pink lei gaily hanging from his shoulders. Perhaps it clashed with his police uniform.
A fuss seemed to be developing at the door. But with Edwina blasting in my ear I could only hear one side of it. “No,” Alvin protested loudly, “she's not here.”
“Are you listening to me, Camilla?” Edwina said.
“I am.”
“No, I have no idea where she is.” Alvin's chin rode high the way it always does when he lies.
“You'd better be,” Edwina said.
“No, she never tells me where she is going. However, she does enjoy this kind of weather, so most likely she's headed out for a bracing hike in the Gatineaus. You might try the trail around Black Lake.”
“Yes.” No point in arguing with Edwina.
“No, I have no idea when she'll be back.”
“I have to get off the phone,” I said, before she could launch into another tirade. “Alvin's being naughty.”
“Ms. Camilla MacPhee?” The officer deked past Alvin into the office.
“Yes.” I carefully disconnected, cutting off a stream of muffled instruction from Edwina.
Alvin whirled and glared at me. I'm always amazed when eyes can be slanted and yet bulging at the same time. “Oh, you are there. Sorry. I didn't see you.”
The officer smiled and held out his hand. “Constable Michael Perkins,” he said cheerfully.
Like a fool, I took the envelope from him and read the contents.
“Well, how did I know it was a goddam summons?” I said to Alvin five minutes later as I struggled into my Sorels. “I've never had one before.”
“You could have trusted me for once.”
“Fine. I should have trusted you.” I was speaking to Alvin's bony back.
Constable Perkins waited patiently in the corner. He appeared to be inordinately interested in Alvin's window painting.
“But you didn't believe me, and look what happened. Maybe you'll understand how I feel always getting arrested unfairly.”
Constable Perkins glanced at Alvin with interest.
“Twice, Alvin, not always. Don't exaggerate. And didn't I get you out of it both times?”
“Who dragged me into it both times?”
“But with the best of intentions.”
“It always happens.”
“Not always. Certainly not always.”
“Fi
ne, name one time when it didn't.”
“People change, Alvin.”
“And also, haven't I ended up in the hospital after following your orders?”
“Well, yes.”
“And even in spite of this, when I try to help, you treat me like a jerk.”
“But it's purely unintentional. Anyway, you have to admit, Alvin, you've never actually been charged. And they've never kept you in the hospital overnight either.”
He opened his mouth. I held up my hand. “Don't argue. Do what I say. Close the office. Don't answer any phone calls. Go home. Don't answer your own phone, because the media will track you down. Wait for me there. If I need you, I'll call here and leave a message. You phone in here every twenty minutes and check the voice mails.”
It wasn't much. But I enjoyed issuing a few orders. Because I didn't know how the hell to get over this latest hurdle.
I kept my scratched nose in the air as Constable Perkins marched me into the Elgin Street police station. I noticed more than a few familiar police faces smirking. What a joke. It seemed like forever before I found myself nose to nose with a Justice of the Peace to discuss bail. I'd never met this JP before. He didn't grin. Neither did I.
Criminal harassment charges were no laughing matter. I was damned lucky to get released on my own recognizance pending my preliminary hearing. I noticed the JP eyeing my battered face, and I could almost see the thoughts forming in his head. I did my best not to look like the kind of person who gets into bar fights.
My experience with JPs hadn't been great until this point. I decided against using any legal pyrotechnics until I appeared before a judge who actually had a law degree. I kept my nose clean and my mouth closed.
Naturally, I agreed to the restrictions ordered by the court.
I would stay away from Elaine Ekstein and from WAVE. I definitely would not initiate contact with either Elaine or her staff. No problem.
I know when I'm licked.
On my way out, I whirled as Mombourquette scurried up behind me.
“Section 264, Camilla. Heavy. Even for you.”
“Very funny, Lennie.”
“At least I can laugh,” he said. “I bet your sister won't.”
I didn't give him the satisfaction of responding.
“Speaking of funny, Leonard, your colleague, a Constable Randy Cousins? Little too close to Benning for mere coincidence. Care to comment?”
The Icing on the Corpse Page 17
