Читать книгу Camilla MacPhee Mysteries 6-Book Bundle - Mary Jane Maffini - Страница 37

Sooner or later, even I have to cave and attend a family dinner. I had no excuse. Benning was dead, and therefore Lindsay Grace was out of danger. Elaine remained locked up in the Regional Detention Centre for the protection of society at large, and I'd run out of options to get her out. Even though I wanted to crash into bed and sleep off the whole nightmare, I had no choice but to enter the lions den of MacPhees. The festivities always begin with Edwina's husband, Stan, picking me up.

My sisters are formidable. My two brothers-in-law are merely weird. Donalda's husband, Joe, lives in a dream world filled with fishing trips and golf tournaments. I guess he's harmless. Then there's Stan, the man with the world's best collection of whoopee cushions, plastic dog turds, dribble glasses and press-on cockroaches.

I have to work hard to find something to like about my brother-in-law, Stan. But when he picked me up for dinner, I had to admit his new Buick felt toasty warm. The icy wind whipping along the driveway of my apartment building blew my red hat off my head and almost pulled my hair out by the roots. It was almost enough to make me appreciate Stan.

Almost.

I knew better than to argue with Edwina about having Stan collect me for family gatherings. Shooing him out of the house while she's getting ready for any social event plays an important part in her mental health, not that she'd ever admit it. And with the MacPhees, you have to pick your battles. Especially as this wedding loomed. I would need my strength.

I slid onto the Buick's leather passenger seat after checking it for fake vomit. You don't let your guard down with Stan. Of course, I had threatened him with bodily harm after the last little skirmish. He acted innocent enough. No doubt Edwina had laid down the law before she sent him out to get me.

The new car had a cushioned glide which I enjoyed as we drove along the Ottawa River Parkway in the blue winter light. The steam rose from the river, eerie and beautiful. The dark-shadowed snow covering the ground and dusting the evergreens could have been a painting. The sight of a raised hood and the flash of a tow-truck on the other side of the divided parkway reminded me of reality. Still, I relaxed.

But when my bum started to get warm, I turned to Stan.

“What the hell are you playing at now?”

He simulated one of his special hurt looks. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don't,” he whined.

“You do. This seat is getting hot. And it better not get any hotter, since it is too cold outside for me to get out of the car, so if it gets any hotter I will push you out and drive myself. They'll find your body when the snow melts in the spring.”

“Of course the seats are heating up. They're heated seats. It's a feature in new cars. I turned yours on so you would be comfortable.”

“Oh.”

Hurt silence radiated from the driver's side. Anyone else but Stan and I might have been tempted to apologize.

Given the kind of day it had been, I was grateful for the bit of quiet until we pulled into Edwina and Stan's driveway. As usual, it looked as though Edwina had buffed it with a toothbrush.

* * *

My sisters were waiting.

I hate that. I pictured three ash-blonde heads together, plotting in Edwina's new maple and granite kitchen before my arrival. It is always three to one. Always has been. I was the accident, born fifteen years after Alexa. It's not easy to be the short, dark one pitted against a coven of beautiful blondes. My sisters might be well on the road to fifty but they look like a bunch of goddam models.

“Camilla.” Alexa came forward to plant a kiss on my cheek.

I had to admit it, her forthcoming marriage to Conn McCracken seemed to be good for her. Her face shone with health. Her makeup was youthful yet appropriate. Her new hairstyle, long yet layered, perfect for the ash-coloured hair.

Too bad I hated the idea. But as Donalda had pointed out, it didn't matter a toot what I thought of Conn. I wasn't marrying him.

“Go see Daddy,” Edwina said.

My father held court in the wingback chair in Edwina's brocade and mahogany living room. He's a tall, fair man. My sisters got their elegant bones from him. He still maintains the look of authority developed in his years as principal of St. Jim's High.

I rated the usual look of surprise.

Just once in thirty-three years, I would have liked to have seen him without that expression.

“It's me, Daddy. Camilla.” I don't know why I always feel I have to introduce myself. After all, it was my mother's name, and I'm suppposed to take after her.

“Of course. Um, Camilla.”

It's hard to tell what he's thinking. A career school principal learns to play his cards close to his chest. I thought I detected the same look that had been on his face the summer I had hot-wired our next door neighbour's new Lincoln Town Car and took it for a midnight spin down the Queensway. I was fifteen. It had seemed like a fine idea at the time. All three of my sisters did a lot of talking in their smooth musical voices, or I wouldn't have been out of the house again before Christmas. I can remember Alexa saying, “Oh Daddy, girls will be girls.”

Not one of them ever rated the look of surprise.

“So, um, Camilla. How is our young man, Alvin, making out in your office?”

“Making out? That's the only thing he hasn't tried.

Otherwise, he's rude, abrasive, weird, intrusive, and his feet smell.”

“Now, dear, try to remember he lacked your wonderful advantages.”

Lucky for me my father is hard of hearing, because I couldn't prevent myself from snorting.

Alexa said, “Oh, Camilla.”

My father said, “It couldn't have been easy for his mother living all those years with an alcoholic. Poor Mary raised those children on her own. And every single one of them made it through university, too.”

Well, Alvin scraped through art school.

“I spoke to Mary the other day. I was happy to be able to tell her Alvin is flourishing under your wing.”

“My what?”

“Camilla.” I heard the warning note in Edwina's voice.

“You know,” my father said, “February in Ottawa is a lot tougher than in Nova Scotia. Mary's worried he won't be dressed properly. The poor lad's prone to bronchitis. Can you make sure he's bundled up?”

I guess no one heard me choking. All eyes were on my father.

“I assured his mother you were more than glad to do anything you could for him, since he saved your life during that terrible business last spring.”

“That's not quite my recollection of Alvin's participation, Daddy. If memory serves, Alvin was nothing but a pain in the butt.”

The doorbell rang before any of my sisters could say oh, Camilla. Alexa's hands were a blur fluffing her hair, smoothing her skirt, adjusting her sweater. She finished topping up her lipstick and gave herself a quick spray of L'Air du temps before Conn McCracken strolled into the room. It was enough to make you sick.

Dinner at my sister Edwina's features Minton china, damask table cloths, roses in silver vases and the chime of fine crystal. She has not yet heard we've entered a more casual age.

Not surprisingly, the food is first-rate. The conversation, lively and frequently dangerous. And the main course is always gossip.

As usual, the men were quiet. Stan because his practical jokes were off limits until after the wedding. Donalda's husband, Joe, because he lives in his own internal world of golf courses and fishing camps. McCracken because he was new to the crew. My father wades into a conversation if someone veers too far from traditional Catholic theology. Or swears. That's usually me. Tonight was no different.

“Well,” Edwina passed a gold-rimmed plate with pear, walnut and gorgonzola salad, “am I the only one who's shocked about Elaine Ekstein?”

Donalda looked up from serving pork tenderloin in orange soy sauce. “Who would have thought she had such a vivid imagination?”

“Indeed,” Edwina said.

“Pass the can of worms,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Edwina narrowed her eyes at me.

“Oh, Camilla.” Alexa gave me a look.

McCracken's lips twitched. I decided to concentrate on the rice. Edwina makes the best rice in the family. Firm, fluffy, safe.

“Well,” said Alexa, “don't you think something needed to be done? Imagine what those women suffered. And that poor officer who was shot. It's a miracle he's going to live. That Benning was an absolute monster.”

The girls never let go of a topic quickly.

“You bet,” Edwina said. “It's time we women started to fight back when bullies and wife-beaters get their own way with a spineless and craven justice system that dumps them back on the streets with a slap on the wrist. Or less.”

Conn McCracken hunched miserably over his plate.

“Of course, but I would never have thought Elaine Ekstein could kill somebody,” Donalda said.

“Didn't you?” said Edwina, “Elaine has spine. I'm glad she took the law into her own hands. No one else was prepared to do it.”

“Wait a minute.” I made an attempt to wrestle back the conversation.

“Oh, Camilla, there's no need to get defensive,” Edwina said. “I know you wanted to, but you weren't as effective as you could have been. The situation got beyond your control. But no one blames you.”

“It's not true,” I said.

Donalda said, “Well, not you alone, dear, society at large. When you come down to it, how did the man get loose?”

I slammed my silver fork on the table. “Goddam it, I mean, Elaine didn't do it.”

Everyone's eyes slid to my father's face. Waiting for the reprimand. His mind appeared to be elsewhere. Playing golf with Joe maybe.

“Of course she did it,” Edwina said.

“Don't be silly, Camilla.” Donalda moved a few serving pieces out of my reach.

“What do you mean?” Alexa said.

“I mean she didn't do it. What do you think I mean?” I barked. I caught Conn McCracken staring at me. I refrained from tossing food at him.

“Well, she confessed, didn't she?” Edwina said. “That's enough for me. And what's more, I think she has support from the community, and she'll get off on a self-defence.”

“Self-defence?” Conn didn't quite catch himself in time.

It surprised me too. Freezing someone in a block of ice? Quite a challenge to portray that as self-defence.

“I don't understand you, Camilla,” Alexa said. “Elaine is your friend. Why don't you want to help her? She'll suffer through a long, terrible trial, and for what?”

“She'll get off,” Edwina said. “She did what she had to.”

“Except she didn't do it!” I might as well have screamed into the wind.

“Fine, Camilla, be like that. Even I know if she pleads Not Guilty she's more likely to get a prison sentence, and then who benefits?”

“No one benefits. Either way. It's still murder, and Elaine still didn't do it.”

Stan said, “Any more of that pear stuff?”

“Oh, sure, call it murder. After what Benning did,” Donalda said. “What's the matter with you, Camilla? You've abandoned poor Elaine.”

“How is Violet?” my father asked.

“What?”

“Your neighbour, Violet.”

“Oh. You mean Mrs. Parnell, Daddy. She's fine, I guess.”

“Remarkable person, Violet. Lovely. We should see more of her.”

“Oh, dear, maybe Camilla's right,” said Alexa. “Killing him in such a gruesome way, I'm sure that's not.…”

“Legal? Moral? Ethical?” I said. “And speaking of legal, I would like to make the point that Elaine is innocent until proven guilty in this country and even in this house.”

“But, Camilla,” Donalda said, “she admitted she killed him. We saw it on the news. You stood next to her with your mouth hanging open like a guppy. She told the reporters she did it, that must mean something.”

“It means it's goddam lucky we don't have capital punishment.”

“Camilla.” This time my father paid attention.

“And I'll tell you something else,” I ignored him for the first time in thirty-three years. “I don't know who killed Ralph Benning. And I don't know why. But someone will get away with murder while Elaine goes up the river.”

“River? What river?” Donalda's husband Joe opened his eyes, hoping for a fishing story, I guess.

“I think she's sort of a heroine,” Edwina said. “Maybe we should get out and help her. Raise some money for her.”

Disappointed, Joe closed his eyes again.

“Well, whether she did it or not, there's not much we can do for her until after the wedding,” Alexa said.

* * *

After dinner, I managed a quick word with McCracken while Stan warmed up the Buick.

“See? I'm being nice to my sister.”

“You call that nice?”

“I'm a MacPhee. It's as nice as we get.”

“Christ.”

“So, any word on the results of the blood tests?”

“What blood tests?”

Some people shouldn't try to lie. But I would have thought after a career in the police force, McCracken could handle a fib. Of course, dinner with my family can leave the most capable person vulnerable.

“I assume the surveillance officers must have conked out. I'm sure you would have checked that.”

“I can't talk about it. That case is under internal review.”

“Three officers snoring like hibernating bears when there's a crazed killer on the loose? I should damn well hope it's under review. High time, too. Let's hope they find the internal connection to Benning while they're investigating.”

Sometimes you have to touch a nerve.

“You're too much. You know that, Camilla?”

Sure I knew it.