Part 4 (1/2)
”You have children come up here for lessons.” Pimple again. ”You don't care about them?”
”You see any children?”
”This is a workplace, there's a law against smoking in a workplace.”
”Today the place is closed. Today it is my private place. I am beside an open window, see? I blow my smoke outside with the car smoke. You going to arrest me for a cigarette?”
”I think you should put it out.” This time from Toothbrush.
”You, with the ugly moustache, you smoke, too, I can smell it on your clothing. You want one but you cannot have one because your partner with the pimple in his eyebrow would not like it.” She blew smoke in their direction. ”You are just jealous.” She smiled.
”Maybe we should take you into the station and question you there.”
She smiled again. ”You have badges, you have guns, you have authority. You can do what you want.”
”Did you see him?”
”He was walking on the street.” She looked down at Vankleek. The newspaperman, the overcoat with the black beard, was talking to a pair of OPP officers on the opposite sidewalk. ”I saw him from this window.”
”You recognized him?”
”Of course I recognized him. Who could forget a man like that?” She squashed her cigarette on the brick sill outside the window. The sill was black with burn marks.
”He didn't come up here? Come to your house?”
”He did not visit me. I was hoping he would.”
”Why?”
”He was an attractive man. He had beautiful hands.” She clenched hers.
”Where were you last night?”
”At home.”
”Alone?”
”All alone,” she said. ”That's how I live.”
”What time did you leave here?”
”Nine o'clock. Later than usual. The evening cla.s.s was over at eight. I stayed for a while. I was dancing. Alone. Giselle. You know Giselle?”
”Anybody see you leave?”
”My driver.”
”Who's that?”
”Ed. He drives a taxi. He picks me up every night. He took me home.”
”Where would we find him?”
”I would try the taxi company,” she said. ”There is only one taxi company in this town.”
”You know his last name?”
”Yes, it is on his license, on the back of the pa.s.senger seat. His picture and his name and his cab number. His name is Edwin Kewell. With a K and two Ls. His middle name is Arthur, it is not on his license. We talk a lot. He likes hockey. He does not like parsnips.”
”Enough about Mr. Kewell,” Toothbrush said. ”We'll talk to him. He drove you home?”
”That is correct. He picked me up at five minutes after nine o'clock. I smoked a cigarette in the doorway while I waited for him.”
”He pick you up all the time?”
”For a year now. I like to know who drives me places. Sometimes when people take you for a ride you do not know where you will wind up, you know?”
”What time did you get home?”
”About half past nine.”
”You live that far away?”
”Not that far. Six or seven blocks. We took the long way.”
”Why?”
”We were talking.”
The Pimple liked that. ”Just talking? Do you and Mr. Ed have more than a Driving Miss Daisy relations.h.i.+p?”
”Mr. Kewell has never been inappropriate.”
”Depends on what you consider appropriate. Half an hour to drive six blocks? Sure you didn't park somewhere? Fool around?”
”Or plan to meet up later? Maybe go out and shoot somebody?”
”Being a policeman must be hard. Only ever thinking the worst. Poisons the heart, does it not?”
In the end they didn't take her anywhere for further questioning, but they promised her they would be back. She said she looked forward to it.
At first glance they seemed an unlikely pair - Stacy: cool, stylish, athletic; Adele: gangly, fiery, herky-jerky, no discernible fas.h.i.+on sense whatsoever. Adele wore basic black cop shoes, crepe soles, possibly steel-toed. Anyone getting a kick in the s.h.i.+ns would know about it. Stacy preferred high boots and jeans with a bit of stretch. Stacy had black belts in three disciplines. She kicked higher than s.h.i.+ns. Orwell was pleased with his matchmaking. He gave himself a reflex chastis.e.m.e.nt - there you go again, being Big Daddy - but it didn't diminish his pleasure in looking at the two women standing in front of him. A hawk and a heron. Both alert, fully engaged in what they did best.
”Sit down, detectives. What have you got?”
Stacy started. ”Del thinks Delisle was up here seeing a woman.”
”Or he found one when he got here,” Adele said. ”He moved pretty fast.”
”There was definitely s.e.x involved,” Stacy said. ”Maybe a married woman. Somebody he was careful didn't get spotted.”