Part 12 (1/2)
”n.o.body's perfect, Jo. Anyway, I'm not working for him for much longer.”
”It didn't work out?”
”It worked out. For a while, anyway. Gary has his faults, but I've always found him easy to get along with. And I liked the quiet around here.” She placed the tape carefully along the top flaps of a packing box. ”Unfortunately, it was too quiet.”
”The firm was having trouble getting clients?”
She narrowed her eyes. ”Look, Jo, maybe we shouldn't be talking about this. Anyway, you're the one who's got the mega-problem these days. Have the cops managed to find out who killed Maureen Gault?”
”No, that's why I'm here. I need to talk to Gary. Will he be back today?”
She shrugged. ”I don't know. Gary's not exactly the poster boy for effective office practices.”
”If he comes back, ask him to call me, would you? I don't want to go to his house. Sylvie thinks I'm Public Enemy Number One.”
”I wouldn't let that keep you away.”
”It won't,” I said.
”Jo, can I tell Gary what you want to see him about?”
”Sure. Tell him I want to talk to him about the day before Ian died.”
Her body tensed with interest. ”They've found something, haven't they? Ian's death wasn't just lousy luck. There was a reason he was killed.”
”They haven't found anything,” I said, ”but I think I have.” As I told her about the evidence pointing to Maureen Gault, I could see the anger in Lorraine's eyes.
”You think she planned to kill him?”
”That's exactly what I think.”
”But why would she want him dead?”
”I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Lorraine, could there be anything in Ian's appointment book that would shed some light on this?”
”Such as ...?”
”Such as the people he saw the last week. Maybe there was somebody out of the ordinary. Howard and Jane remember an old Ukrainian man who was around the night of the party. Does that ring a bell?”
She shook her head. ”It's been such a long time, Jo.” She smoothed the masking tape on the box in front of her. ”I can tell you right now there won't be a clue in the last week's appointments. Ian wasn't there. Remember, you two took off the week before Christmas to go cross-country skiing with the kids.”
”We went down to Kenosee. I'd forgotten.” I said.
Lorraine picked up on the disappointment in my voice. ”Don't give up on the office angle completely, Jo,” she said. ”Even if Ian wasn't there, I would have kept a record of his messages.” She looked around the room. ”I'm just about through here. I'll go over to the Legislature. I packed all Ian's stuff and sent it to the archives. It shouldn't be any problem to dig up Ian's appointment book. If anything looks interesting, I'll call you.”
”Thanks, Lorraine,” I said.
She came over and slid her arm around my waist. ”Come on, I want to show you something.” She took me over to the big plate-gla.s.s window that looked down on a parking lot. The area was a favourite for prost.i.tutes and for the johns who sought them out.
Lorraine pointed down. ”That's where Gary parks his car,” she said. ”All last summer one of the street girls used his car as her office: sitting on the fender, fixing her makeup in the outside mirror, even lying over the hood and working on her tan when there wasn't any action. I must have volunteered twenty times to go down and tell her to beat it, but Gary wouldn't hear of it. He said everybody needs one place where they won't get ha.s.sled.”
”And the point of the story is ...?”
Lorraine shook her head and smiled. ”I don't know. Maybe just that Gary hasn't turned into as much of a rat as you think.”
I hugged her. ”Let's keep in touch, Lorraine.”
One more errand and I could go home. By the time I left the Humane Society I was forty dollars poorer and a kitten richer. It was windy and cold when I drove into the Nationtv parking lot. I stuck the kitten inside my coat, and as I walked into the building I could feel the sharpness of its claws through my sweater. The door to Jill's office was open. She was on the phone, and she motioned for me to come in. When I took the kitten out of my coat, she said a fast goodbye to whoever she was talking to and leapt to her feet.
”I don't believe my eyes,” she said. ”You with a cat.”
”I don't believe my eyes either,” I said. ”But here she is, and I'm appealing to you as a cat person to take care of her until after Taylor's party tomorrow.”
”I accept,” she said. ”You can always count on cat people.” She took the kitten from me and began stroking under its chin. I could hear the kitten's motor-hum of satisfaction. ”So Taylor was the one who finally broke you down. How many times did the other kids ask for a cat?”
”Don't remind me,” I said. ”But it was all Taylor wanted.”
Jill held the kitten against her cheek and rubbed. ”How do you think Sadie and Rose are going to feel about an interloper?”
”They'll probably put out a contract on me,” I said.
She looked at her watch. ”The sun's over the yardarm somewhere. Do you have time for a drink?”
”I do,” I said, ”but you don't.” I pointed to the cat. ”You have responsibilities. Jill, could you bring her over tomorrow around 3:30? I thought the adults could get together for cake and a gla.s.s of wine when the kids had wound down a bit.”
”I'll be there, at 3:30. Cat people are punctual to a fault, but of course now that you're a cat person yourself, you'll be learning that.”
I stopped at the mall on the way home and bought the rest of Taylor's presents. After I'd hidden them in the bas.e.m.e.nt for wrapping later, I came upstairs and started dinner. I felt edgy but good. The answers seemed to be coming closer, I could feel it. I was rubbing rosemary into the lamb chops when the phone rang. It was Lorraine Bellegarde.
”I've got something,” she said. ”There was a stack of phone messages stuck in the appointments book. I guess after we heard about Ian, someone put them in there and forgot about them. Come to think of it, that someone was probably me. Anyway, there were the usual messages from const.i.tuents and government departments.”
”How about from the Seven Dwarfs?”
”They all rang in. Do you want me to check who called when?”
”Could you?”
I wrote down the information and thanked her.
”And now for the piece de resistance,” she said. ”There were fifteen separate messages from Henry.”
”Who's Henry?”
”I'm not sure, but I think he may be your old Ukrainian man. He called and called that last week. I remember him now. A sad old guy. He was always blowing his nose. Anyway, the bad news is he wouldn't leave his last name. The good news is he left his number.”
”Bingo,” I said. I repeated the number and wrote it down. ”Thanks, Lorraine. Ian used to say he could always count on you to come through.”
”Anytime, Jo,” she said softly. ”Anytime.”
My heart was pounding as I dialled Henry's number. There were two rings. Then the operator's voice: ”Your call cannot be completed as dialled. Please check the listing again, or call your operator for a.s.sistance.” I hung up and looked again at the number. It could be long distance. I dialled one and tried the number again. This time I got through.