Читать книгу The Icing on the Corpse - Mary Jane Maffini - Страница 12

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 utility 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.