Part 50 (1/2)

”Dr. Ruth!” Stacy called out. ”Hi there. Detective Stacy Crean, Dockerty PD. Like to talk to you for a minute.”

Lorna Ruth froze for a second, tried to smile. ”Oh, h.e.l.lo. What are you doing here?”

”We're looking for Anya Zubrovskaya. We understand the two of you took a drive this afternoon.”

”Oh. Yes. We did. She needed a lift.” She looked over her shoulder to see Adele behind her, looking into the kitchen. ”Excuse me. What's going on?”

Stacy kept moving forward carefully. ”That's what we're trying to find out. Who were you calling to? Who's in the barn? Who is it you wanted them to 'bring out'?”

”This is private property, you know. And you are nowhere near Dockerty, Detective.”

”These are simple questions, Dr. Ruth. Or is it Dr. Wisneski?”

”Goodness gracious, Stace. Look who's here! It's my old friend Serge. How you doing, pal?”

Stacy said, ”Why don't you take the doctor inside with Mr. Siziva while I check on who might be in the barn?”

”Sure thing, partner. Toss me your cuffs. I only brought one set.”

Stacy handed her cuffs to Adele, then crossed the lane, heading for the barn. Halfway there a figure emerged from the shadows carrying something that looked dangerous. Stacy's hand immediately went to the b.u.t.t of her weapon. Then Anya came into the light.

”Anya, you all right?”

”My favourite detective. Yes, thank you. I am fine. My wrists are b.l.o.o.d.y and I do not smell very nice, but I am otherwise all right. There is a man tied up inside the barn. I hit him with this.”

”Would you mind putting it down now, Anya, please?”

”Oh, of course, I have been clutching it so tight. My hands are not working very well.” She needed to use her free hand to pry the chair leg loose. She dropped it on the ground. ”The man inside had a rifle. I pushed it under some straw.”

”Good. Why don't you come and sit in our car? We'll take care of things from here.”

”Yes. That's a good idea. I am a little weary.” She began to fall and Stacy caught her before she hit the ground.

Stacy carried Anya into the kitchen and got her seated, got her a gla.s.s of water, had a look at her bleeding wrists. Adele was keeping her eyes on Dr. Ruth and Sergei who were sitting with their backs to each other. Whenever either one opened their mouth to speak, Adele told them, ”Shut the f.u.c.k up!”

”There's a man tied up in the barn I should check on,” Stacy said. ”And a rifle somewhere.”

”Go ahead, partner,” said Adele. ”We're all just going to sit here quietly and wait for a bus to take all these a.s.sholes to the slammer.”

”Detectives!” Constable Maitland was coming through the door holding a man by the arm. ”This guy was trying to slip out the back. He wasn't running very fast.”

”Way to go, cowboy,” Adele said. ”Who have we here?” Charlie pushed the man into the room and Adele slapped both hands to her face in complete surprise. ”Holy f.u.c.k!” she said. ”Marty!” She shook her head. ”In a bazillion years I wasn't expecting you, and that's a f.u.c.king fact.”

Martin Grova shrugged. ”I have nothing to do with these people.”

”That's okay Marty. I'll make sure you get your own cell.”

When it came to theatre, Orwell tended to favour sung drama such as Madame b.u.t.terfly or The Music Man, but he granted that Thornton Wilder's old chestnut Our Town was a relatively painless theatrical affair, folksy, mildly amusing, and proceeding without flubs, miscues or undue coughing from the audience. When the curtain fell and the applause died down, the crowd heading for the lobby appeared to be in a uniformly good mood.

Orwell and family spent the first few minutes fielding compliments about the impressive stage presence of the youngest member of the Brennan clan.

”She's great, isn't she?” Diana was proud of her kid sister.

”Her voice carries very well,” said Erika.

Sam Abrams was easing his way in their direction through the crowded lobby. ”Mrs. Brennan,” he said, nodding politely. ”Chief. And . . .” he did an elegant quarter turn, ”. . . the new law partner of the redoubtable Georgie Rhem, Diana Daily.” His bow was courtly.

”h.e.l.lo, Sam,” she said. ”It's been a while.”

”Not a bad show, don't you think? Leda's very good.”

”I hear they might take it to Peterborough in a couple of weeks,” Sam said.

”Leda on tour,” Diana laughed. ”Watch out, world.”

”I need some air,” Orwell said.

Erika looked over her shoulder as she and Orwell made their way to the exit. Sam and Diana were chatting comfortably. ”He's married?” she asked.

”Sam? To the paper, maybe.”

”She likes him.”

”He's a nice fellow.”

There were small groups of people on the sidewalk, a few clouds of smoke. Mayor Donna Lee Bricknell was coming toward them.

”Good evening, Chief. Mrs. Brennan. How nice to see you.” She motioned Orwell to stand a bit closer. ”By the way,” she said. ”I was speaking with a friend of mine on the Newry Towns.h.i.+p Acreage Preservation a.s.sembly. Your pet.i.tion for a severance should go through without any problem.”

”Well now,” Orwell said. ”That is good news, Madam Mayor. I was sure I'd be going there hat in hand.”

”These things can usually be accomplished smoothly, when we all work together.” The Register's ace photographer, Kathy somebody, was pointing a camera in their direction. ”One hand washes the other, as they say,” said Donna Lee. ”Now, let's have one of those big Orwell Brennan smiles.”

Orwell bent his knees slightly and smiled at his friend, the Mayor of Dockerty.

Sam and Diana pa.s.sed by. ”We're going across the street for a quick coffee,” she said.

Orwell watched them cross the street, Diana in her high heels, Sam holding her elbow. ”She giggled,” he said. ”I distinctly heard a giggle.”

”Don't you interfere,” Erika said.