The Icing on the Corpse Page 4

  “Haven't been able to catch it so far. A big chunk of snow is plastered over it. But here he comes again.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On Sussex. I'd better turn around. Don't want to end up on the Eastern Parkway.”

  “No, you don't. Alvin? What's that screeching sound? Did my car make that noise? Alvin! Answer me.”

  “Hey, Camilla, keep your shorts on. Just a one-eighty.”

  “Don't you do one-eighties in my new Civic.”

  “Lord thundering Jesus!”

  “What?”

  “Holy crap.”

  “What happened?”

  “He turned too.”

  At this point I felt the hot blast of Merv's breath on my ear. “I'm happy I can reserve a portion of my communications budget for you to give driving instructions to earring boy, Camilla. Make sure you get the story of his life,” Merv said.

  “Might not be a long story. This is serious.”

  “No shit,” Alvin said. “Here he comes. He's gunning it.”

  I yelled. “Floor it to 24 Sussex and drive up to the gates. They have enough Mounties for a musical ride. Do you hear me?” Nothing. “Alvin?” More nothing. Followed by a crash and the sound of tearing metal. Then ragged breathing. “Alvin?” I turned to Merv. “Benning's caught him.”

  “Camilla?” A squeak on the receiver.

  “Yes!”

  “You were right. When the security guys ran out, he took off.”

  “Great. Then?”

  “And guess what? I got a partial of the licence plate.”

  “Excellent. What is it?” I turned to Merv. “He caught some of the licence.”

  To do Merv credit, he pulled out a notebook and a pen.

  “Okay, Alvin, shoot.” I strained to hear. Muffled voices buzzed on the line. Then Alvin squawked like he was having his feathers plucked.

  “Hey wait,” he said. “I don't want to get out of the vehicle. Listen. You can put the guns away. I was being chased by that guy, Benning, the one who just escaped. Don't you guys listen to the radio?”

  “Alvin's experienced first hand the high level of security at the PM's residence. Those are your boys, aren't they, Merv?”

  “Yes, indeedy. And they will check out Mr. Ponytail dressed in women's clothes, driving a vehicle registered to someone else, and then he'll try to give them his usual level of mouth.” Merv chuckled.

  While I have no problem with Alvin as the butt of a joke, I didn't want to go to the hoosegow and bail out the boy again. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had his fingerprints taken while in the midst of a Justice for Victims activity. Whenever Alvin gets arrested as a result of some action of mine, I pay for it for a long time. This time, the payment would include bodywork.

  “Hey, you can't do that. I have a right to legal advice.” Alvin's voice shot well into his higher ranges.

  “Alvin,” I shouted into the phone.

  “Let go of me.”

  I tried again, “Alvin, Alvin, put the officer on the phone.” I turned to Merv. “Can you talk to them and explain?”

  Merv made a moue. “They have procedures.”

  “Well, of course, they have procedures, but we both know Alvin wasn't doing anything wrong. It would be most unfair if he's interrogated.”

  “Hang on, Camilla, we're moving again.”

  “But you have to speak to them.”

  “We can't block the bridge.”

  He had a point besides the one on his head. “Fine, but as soon as we can pull over on Colonel By Drive, you'd better talk to them.”

  “Sure,” Merv said. “But I don't think we can park on Colonel By.”

  “As soon as you turn onto Echo then.”

  Merv started to hum, not altogether an auspicious sign. Or a pleasant sound. I stuck a finger in my ear.

  “Alvin. Don't argue with the officers.”

  More squawks.

  “Listen to me. Put one of them on the phone immediately or your leather jacket's history.”

  Merv made the left onto Colonel By Drive this time and proceeded north with unnecessary caution.

  “Get the lead out,” I said to Merv. And then to Alvin, “Goddamn it, do what you're told, this once. Oh, sorry, officer, I thought I was speaking to my colleague. My name is Camilla MacPhee, and I am a lawyer with Justice for Victims. That deranged creature is in my employ. And I can assure you he was in grave danger. He has a partial licence plate number and a description of the car to be relayed to the Ottawa police. What? Excuse me? I can't believe this. Wait a minute.” I turned to Merv. “This guy's a real comedian. You want to speak to him?”

  “Not sure I want to be associated with either of you,” Merv said.

  “I'm glad you think it's funny. I think Alvin's been arrested.”

  “Again? Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.”

  But he did take the phone. “Merv Morrison here. Who's talking? Right. Sure. No shit, he's for real, believe it or not. Me? Yeah, I'm on the mend. Couple weeks. What? No, no. I'm with an acquaintance. Right. I know you got procedures. Hey, no problem. Take it easy.”

  I would have killed him on the spot, but we'd reached the town house Lindsay Grace called home. “Park here,” I said.

  Merv was still chuckling. I decided not to react. I needed to keep my mind free. On the other hand, I did need to know what to do about Alvin. Plus the usual when, where and how.

  “They'll take him to the Leomont Building at Vanier and McArthur. And they'll impound your vehicle. You'll get him out, but they'll need to assure themselves he poses no risk to the Prime Minister or other august bodies.”

  “I'll have to help him.”

  “I wouldn't rush. I figure on five different jurisdictions involved in this baby, if you count the Prime Minister's Protection Detachment and National Security Intelligence. He'll be their guest for most of the day. City cops will be the least of his problems.”

  “Okay, one challenge at a time. This is Lindsay's place.”

  Alvin would have to wait. Now it was time to deal with Lindsay Grace. Was it possible Benning had found her before he pursued Alvin? Logic said no. But logic and Benning don't mix.

  Merv said, “Catch that view of the canal. She must be rolling in cash.”

  “Do you think that matters when someone wants to kill you, and all you can do is hide out and pray?”

  Merv kept his mouth shut, but he checked out the wrought-iron fencing, the solid brass details on the doors and the landscaping designed to look appealing even when covered with snow.

  “Even so,” he said. He can be the most stubborn person in the world sometimes, despite some serious competition from my relatives. “Must be four hundred thousand minimum for this baby. Echo Drive, two minutes to downtown. Are you kidding, half a million. Did this Benning bankroll this?”

  I jabbed the doorbell. “Lindsay Grace was a hotshot financial analyst, a high flyer, when she hooked up with Ralph Benning.”

  “So not stupid.”

  “No, that's the tragedy. She's a bright woman who fell into the wrong relationship.”

  Merv snorted. “How smart could she be if she teamed up with this character? Didn't he serve time for spousal assault?”

  I tried again. The bell pealed loud enough for us to hear it outside. It couldn't be missed inside the house. “About as smart as the other women he was with. His wife taught high school physics. Not any more, of course. Her face isn't easy for people to feel comfortable with. And his other women have been smart and assured.” I gave the bell one final vicious poke.

  Merv shook his head. “Makes you wonder.”

  It sure did. I took a deep breath. “Time to go in.”

  “No way. You won't catch me breaking and entering. I have my pension to think of.”

  “Actually, I thought I'd use the keys.”

  I unlocked the Yale and the deadbolt and inched the door open. I had thirty seconds to get the jump on Lindsay's alarm system. I punched in the code and felt a flush of relie
f. Merv and I stepped into the foyer and stamped our boots on the marble floor. I stopped long enough to reset the alarm, then called out. “Lindsay?” I thought I heard a small noise from upstairs. “You hear that?”

  Merv tilted his head. “Music.”

  I slipped out of my icy boots. I'd kept my mind off my frozen feet on the ride over. Merv ditched his size thirteens. I stepped into the living room. One small benefit from Alvin's close call: not even Benning could be in two places at one time.

  So why had I been so frantic? Because, Benning, as the police now knew, appeared to be able to breeze through walls.

  “He can't find her here,” I said, trying to convince myself.

  “I don't see why not.” Merv stepped up right behind me. “How long has she lived here?”

  “Since September. But she was discreet. No one knows. Unlisted phone number.”

  As we checked the living room, Merv said, “If the guy has any kind of connections, he could tap into the hydro service or find the address on her driver's licence through MOT.”

  I knew that too.

  Merv seemed impressed by several bronze sculptures, the rather nice abstracts on the wall and the large arrangement of fresh and fragrant lilies as we passed through the dining area. My sisters would approve. The only whiff in my dining area was from my running shoes.

  The kitchen was empty too. On the counter was a plate with a half-eaten slice of toast. A cup with cold coffee. The radio was tuned to CBC's Radio One. I touched the espresso maker on the granite counter. Still lukewarm. So Lindsay had been home that morning, and chances were she'd been alone.

  I took a deep breath and retraced my steps. I hesitated at the base of the stairs then hurled myself up. Wimpiness was never one of my problems. But if you've ever stumbled over a dead body, you don't feel the same about closed doors.

  “Lindsay?” I called out, in case she was afraid of Benning creeping up the stairs. “It's Camilla and a friend. We want to make sure you're all right.”

  Upstairs the door to the guestroom stood open, as did the door to the master suite. The bed had been slept in, but the elegant pewter-coloured bedding was merely folded back, no careless jumble of sheets for Lindsay. No sign of a struggle. No blood.

  From behind the closed door, we could hear water running. And another sound. Music. Vivaldi. The air was steamy and fragrant with floral and musky and expensive scents.

  Abruptly, the water stopped.

  “Lindsay?” I don't know what the hell I thought, as I stood at the foot of the enormous bed. I sure didn't expect Lindsay Grace to step from her bathroom to her bedroom, shaking her damp hair behind her.

  “You're all right,” I blurted. “Thank God. We were so worried.”

  She whirled, screamed and dropped her towel. She hit the floor on the far side of the enormous bed.

  “I'm so sorry,” I said quickly. “I guess I panicked after your phone call. When you didn't answer, I drove over here in case. Now, of course, I see you're all right. So I guess I'll leave you alone to get, um, organized.” It's not like me to babble, but this time, I couldn't stop. Lindsay scrambled back into the bathroom. Who could blame her? I felt like a fool. “I'll be downstairs.”

  “All right,” she said, in a muffled voice.

  “Are you sure you're okay? Didn't mean to scare you. I brought a friend with me. He's a Mountie. He works in security.”

  “Give me a couple of minutes.” The voice was shaky.

  “No problem, Lindsay. I'll make some fresh coffee.”

  I caught sight of Merv. People look healthier after neurosurgery.

  “What's the matter?” I whispered. “Haven't you ever seen a naked woman before?”

  Six

  Merv's coffee went down fast. He takes three sugars, but this time he drank it straight. I was still dipping the teaspoon in the sugar bowl when he drained the last drop.

  Merv keeps his hair clipped about the length of a five o'clock shadow. His scalp was pink, another measure of his state of mind. I had no choice but to lean across the kitchen table and stare him straight in the eye. “Pull yourself together.”

  “Holy shit,” he said. And not for the first time.

  “And try a little conversational variety while you're at it.” I twitched the teaspoon dangerously.

  Merv poured himself another cup. Before I could dump the three teaspoons of sugar in it, he said “holy shit” again.

  “Lindsay might come downstairs. Do you think you can act like a rational human being? Imagine how traumatic it was for her coming across a strange man in her bedroom while she was…”

  “Holy…” Merv said.

  “…fresh from the bath. And if she does comes down, if you can't say something intelligent, don't say anything at all.”

  Merv didn't say anything, but I was pretty sure I knew what he was thinking.

  I asked myself some tough questions. Why hadn't Lindsay answered the phone after her hysterical call? How could she relax and listen to music in the tub while waiting for Ralph Benning to kick in the front door? I knew her first steps would have been to the medicine cabinet for an extra boost of the sedatives that helped her get through every day. But even so.

  “Merv, let's not sit on our duffs wasting time. We should review the security here. That's your specialty.”

  That seemed to snap him out of it.

  “Okay,” I said, “there are bars on the basement windows, top-grade Clear Defence security film on every pane of glass in the house, bars across the patio doors, a first-rate silent alarm system, wired to every door and window, panic button, and double deadbolts on the doors. Do you think she's missing anything?”

  I was still talking when Merv bounded off to check the basement and the first floor. It gave me time to think about Benning and how he might try to get in. These security products would discourage a burglar, but not a psycho with nothing to lose.

  Twenty minutes later, I was brooding over my third cup of coffee, when Merv returned. “Impressive. Someone did an fine job on this place.”

  “Anyone else but Benning and she wouldn't have a worry.”

  “I don't see how anybody could get in,” he said, grudgingly.

  “Benning could. Even this security won't keep out a hail of bullets or a two-thousand pound vehicle ramming the front door.”

  “You'll get rapid response with that centrally-monitored system.”

  “On a normal day, sure. But with every unit after Benning and the roads clogged, the response time will be pathetic.”

  Merv opened his mouth to speak. I shook my head to silence him as a slight movement in the doorway caught my eye. Lindsay Grace entered the kitchen with the soft, smooth movements of an expensive cat. Elegant and understated in a cream-coloured slim tunic and leggings that looked like cashmere. Her dark chestnut hair was dry and brushed back into a ponytail. That golden olive complexion didn't need makeup, not even the dab of lip-gloss she'd applied. Her only decoration was a tiny pair of gold hoop earrings. As usual, she smelled good. Organza, if I remembered correctly.

  Lindsay had the kind of face you'd see on the cover of Chatelaine. Except a photo might not capture the soft backlit skin and the fragility. If it wasn't for the lack of focus in her eyes, you would have thought she hadn't a worry in the world.

  She didn't match the stereotype of a battered woman. Of course, in my line of work, you learn fast not to rely on those preconceptions. None of Ralph Benning's victims had looked the part.

  “Mmmm,” she said, “I smell coffee.”

  “Ready for one?” I asked.

  “I'm sorry about the call to the office.” She reached for her coffee, her hands steadier than mine.

  That took me by surprise. “You're sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?”

  “Alarming you. I panicked when I turned on the radio and heard a prisoner had escaped. I don't know why I assumed that the prisoner who had escaped was Ralph. That was stupid of me. I guess I'm strung out because it's the sentencing he
aring. That's all I can think about. You didn't have to come all the way over and on such a terrible day too. I wasn't using my head. I had to take an Ativan, well two, and a long bath with some Vivaldi to calm down. I called back to tell you not to bother, but I got the answering machine.”

  “I wanted to be here.”

  “Well, I appreciate it, but I'm all right.”

  I took a deep breath. “Lindsay, have a seat.”

  She slid onto the attractive light metal chair. “Sorry for screaming, but I didn't recognize you for a minute. I've never seen you dressed quite like that. And I didn't know your friend.”

  It must have taken at least three Ativans to let Lindsay feel untroubled by the sight of Merv with his jaw around his ankles. I decided not to explain my outfit. I had no choice but to introduce Merv.

  “Lindsay, meet Merv Morrison. He's with the RCMP.” Out of regard for our longstanding relationship, I didn't mention Merv's sick leave, nor did the words gall or bladder leave my lips.

  Merv was already standing. Although maybe not breathing. Lindsay held out her slender hand and allowed it to be swallowed by Merv's. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “You must think I'm out of my mind.”

  I was impressed. Not every woman can handle an introduction to a man after he has had an eyeful of her birthday suit. Of course, it could have been the drugs.

  Merv said “holy shit” under his breath.

  Someone had to show signs of intelligent life. I tried. “We should work out a plan for what to do until Benning's back behind bars where he belongs.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  I didn't think I'd been the least bit unclear.

  “I mean, we want to make sure you are safe. You should stay somewhere else.” I did not mention Merv's theory about Benning being able to find out her address. I did not refer to the inside police connection. I did not describe what I thought Benning might do.

  “What do you mean, back behind bars?”

  I leaned over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Benning did escape. It took a while for the name to make the radio news.” Before I could add it was lucky she hadn't known that during her hour-long wait for our arrival, Lindsay slipped gracefully from the chair to the floor.