The Icing on the Corpse (22 page)

“You have a lot of nerve, interfering with my family.”

“That's exactly the way I see it with you, Camilla. I guess we're birds of a feather.”

“Flock off then.”

“Very funny. I'm looking forward to the big event,” said Alvin.

“What?”

“It sounds great.”

“It sounds hellish, but you will have to take my word for it, because you will not be there. And before you stick your head back in that magazine, here's a task for you.”

Okay. I was limited in what I could do. My support systems were in the toilet. A lot of doors had closed. But nothing in my bail restrictions prevented me from talking to a pathologist.

I made a beeline for the Ottawa Hospital and hotfooted down the hallway to the pathology department. Dr. Harry Varty had a puzzled look when I finally tracked him down in a cold green hallway.

“Glad you're feeling better.” I seized his hand and shook it. I tried not to dwell on where that hand might have been. “Camilla MacPhee. Nice of you to make time for me.”

“I don't believe I…”

“This won't hurt a bit.”

“Wait a minute. Camilla MacPhee? Why do I know that name. Have you been in the news? Aren't you the lawyer who was just disbarred?”

This was hardly fair. “I have not been disbarred. Any complaint will probably be dismissed since it's without foundation.”

“And weren't you charged with assault?”

“Assault? Certainly not. There is a misinterpretation of some of my activities. A bit of grandstanding by certain interested parties.”

“What happened to your face?”

“Not relevant.”

“At any rate, I don't believe you have an appointment.”

None of his clients would have appointments, but it wasn't the time to mention that. But he wasn't finished. “And after what I read, I won't see you without checking with the police first.”

“It's just a few questions, for God's sake,” I said. “Don't be afraid to stand on your own two feet.”

But he was already on the other side of his office door.

So that didn't go well either. Never mind. He wasn't the only pathologist in the world. Benning must have died earlier in the afternoon or early evening. It was just a matter of time until I confirmed it.

And that would be great news. Elaine was always overbooked for every minute of the day. Once a time of death was established it would be easy to poke holes in her story. Another positive: Lindsay had been in our sight all day and into the late evening.

Neither one of them could have killed him.

I felt like dancing, although not necessarily at a family party, even though a number of bothersome questions remained. Why did Lindsay lie about her missing sweater? Who wore Elaine's coat and hat in the Crystal Garden at two in the morning? And more to the point, how?

But first, time to nail Elaine's activities. It would help to get a gander at her agenda for the day. How the hell could I find out without visiting the WAVE office or talking to Elaine? Big no-nos.

Until I figured out what P. J. was up to, I couldn't trust him either. My sisters were tied up until after the wedding. The WAVE staff and Elaine knew Alvin. Breaking into the WAVE office under cover of darkness seemed out of the question, mainly because of Alexa's shower. I surprised myself at how easily I pondered a little B and E. It showed how the system creates criminals.

I could have enlisted Mrs. Parnell, but I had other plans for her. Anyway, I had one more item of business to take care of myself.

“Hello,” I chirped into the phone. “I represent JFV Research Associates. We're doing a survey about the satisfactions of grandparenting. Do you have a minute to answer a few questions.”

“I have the minute, but I don't have the grandchildren.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said to Mrs. Hector Lynch. She had no idea how sorry. “Could you answer a few questions, anyway? It would help others.”

“Sure, why not.” P. J.'s mom said.

“Wonderful. How many children do you have?”

“One.”

“And how old is he or she?”

“He's twenty-nine, and since you mention it, it's high time he settled down and produced a few grandchildren.”

“Hmmm. No daughters, then?”

“No.”

“Stepdaughters?”

“No, just the one boy.”

“I see. Nieces?”

“No.”

“Nephews?”

“Sorry.”

I took a deep breath. “Are there any small children in your life?”

“Not really.”

“Little red-haired neighbour kids?”

“Pardon me? Exactly what kind of a survey is this again?”

“Thank you, you've been very helpful.”

“No problem, Ms. MacPhee.” Mrs. Parnell beamed.

“Glad to hear it.” I accepted a refill of Harvey's Bristol Cream. I felt like grabbing the bottle and chug-a-lugging.

I was sitting on her black leather sofa listening to big sounds from her massive stereo system and wishing her lovebirds didn't have quite such loud and unappealing calls.

“Exactly the kind of challenge I've been needing. Get me away from the computer and the phone.”

“I thought it might be.”

Mrs. Parnell raised her glass in a toast. “Yes, here's to being back in the swing of things. I have felt a sense of failure since my web searches and calls failed to produce the desired results. Many interesting tidbits though, fascinating, but false steps.”

“Don't worry about it. Benning's relationships would be clandestine anyway, not likely to be publicly available.”

“Still, I thought I would turn up something, if not on Benning's criminal connections or family, then at least on Rina Benning's relatives. Nothing but dead ends.”

“It's probably good news, Mrs. P. If there are no other significant leads, we can focus on Randy Cousins. You and Alvin did one hell of a job there.”

“Nevertheless, I feel like a fool, leading the troops astray, wasting time.”

“Something wrong with those love birds, Mrs. P.?”

“The last time they were terribly agitated, I believe it had to do with your cat, Ms. MacPhee.”

“Your
cat. So you're ready to take on the challenge?”

“With pleasure. I'm tied up this evening, but tomorrow's clear. I'll be in the trenches.”

Back in my own apartment, soaking in the tub and making plans for the next bit of investigating, I had a moment's niggle about what kind of trouble Mrs. P. could get into. But the task seemed straightforward.

Her challenge did not extend to the real battlefield. She was an innocent-looking old lady most people would not associate with me. What could go wrong? I relaxed, smiled and splashed a few bubbles in the direction of the calico cat.

We were getting somewhere on the Randy Cousins front, and Mrs. P. would move that forward nicely. As soon as I found confirmation about freezing times, we'd get Elaine back on the street, where she could continue her life's work of annoying everyone she met.

No matter what the evening held, tomorrow looked promising.

T
he ride to the NAC would have been tense even if Alvin and Mrs. Parnell hadn't been in the Buick along with Edwina, Stan and me. On the up side, in deference to her bad legs, Mrs. Parnell was installed in the front seat, leaving me to stew in the back with Edwina. On the down side, Alvin was also in the back seat, giving me one more thing to stew about.

“Should be a great evening,” he said.

I kept my mouth shut.

“Fine food, desserts, nice view. Hmmm.”

I bit my tongue.

“I bet it cost a bundle.”

“It will be worth it,” Edwina said.

“It better be.” And I'd thought Stan was asleep at the wheel.

“Lively family conversations.” Alvin just wouldn't shut up.

“And the wedding,” Mrs. Parnell boomed from the front seat. “Looking forward to an update.”

Stan snickered. “Oh, you'll hear about the big wedding.”

I turned to Edwina and whispered. “It's only a week until the wedding. Why do we have another social event? I have things to do.”

“Smarten up, Camilla. Everyone's busy Stan and I planned this evening in place of the traditional dinner after the rehearsal.”

“Wait a minute, I thought it was a shower.”

“It's in place of both. People are thrilled for Alexa and Conn. They want to show it. But, of course, they're trying to combine two households, so they don't need anything. And anyway, it's a nice surprise, which is why we didn't tell you until today, in case you…”

At least I hadn't forgotten it. For some reason, I had been kept in the dark. I thought that was a nice change with my family. “All these parties are too much for Daddy.”

“Exactly why we're doing it. We're spreading out the celebrations. We don't want him getting exhausted, and he wanted us together. He's excited about the boys being home.”

I gave up. I stared out the window up the hill as we whipped past the Parliament Buildings on Wellington until I felt Edwina's sharp elbow in my ribs. “As for you, Camilla, nobody will mention the mess you made of your face or the trouble with the Law Society and the police. You can reciprocate by behaving like a functioning member of the family. No buts. No smart remarks. Just do it.”

“Okay.”

“And if that's what I think it is on your upper lip, you'd damn well better get waxed before the wedding, missy.”

A little of my sisters goes a long way. This would be a lot of my sisters. They made a big show of cooing over Alexa's tall blonde boys, Scott and Andy. The boys were full of news about their careers. Promotions, transfers, Silicon Valley acronyms. Edwina and Donalda pressed them for information about girlfriends.

Mrs. Parnell and Alvin also received the visiting royalty treatment. As for me, I was conscious of ice crystals forming on the tips of my ears. To say nothing of my upper lip.

“Mrs. Parnell, we're very pleased you could join us,” Donalda said, helping to steady the walker and guide Mrs. P. to our table.

“Any time,” Mrs. P. said. “All I ever need is an invitation.”

“Of course, you have a standing invitation to any of our family dinners,” Edwina said, lifting one powerful eyebrow. “Surely Camilla must have mentioned it.”

Damn.

“I'm sure she must have, but the old memory's not what it used to be.”

“Alvin! What a lovely shirt,” Donalda said. “So vibrant. Just what we need to lift our spirits.”

I was beginning to think he could blush on demand.

My father was already seated along with Donalda and Joe at a long table with a view of the canal. “Violet,” he said, standing and adjusting his tie.

Mrs. Parnell gave as close as you could come to a girlish pirouette while clutching the handle of an aluminum walker.

As a special treat, Alvin had brought Day-Glo leis for everyone. We looked most festive as we waited with the lights low to surprise the bejesus out of Alexa and Conn.

It promised to be a long, long night.

“Gee.” Alvin swallowed one more chocolate truffle. “It's getting late, and I haven't heard the latest about the wedding plans.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Parnell, “I'd love to have the details.”

Oh, nice. From the frying pan into the fire.

“You have your invitation, I hope,” my father said.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. P. said. “I can't wait.”

“Me neither,” said Alvin.

What?

“One week from tonight,” Donalda said with a glance in my direction.

“Under control,” Edwina said, firmly.

Alexa fixed me with a look. A dress shop would have been a palatable alternative to this shindig, but it seemed better not to mention it.

“We're ready. Even the problem with Camilla's dress is solved,” Alexa said.

“I don't believe I've ever been to a candlelight wedding on Valentine's Day,” said Mrs. Parnell. “It sounds romantic.”

My father said, “Very romantic.”

When your parents hit eighty, you'd think you could count on them to settle down and not be making cow eyes at the neighbours.

“Let's see.” Edwina ticked items off on her fingers. “The flowers have been selected, cream-coloured roses and callas, the colour scheme's worked out, the favours are ready, the seating arrangements are done, the music's been chosen, the caterer's been whipped into shape. St. Jim's is booked. The men have their tuxes ready. Andy and Scott are here, ready to waltz Alexa down the aisle. Except Camilla has shown not the slightest interest in any of the preparations…”

“What do you mean, the problem with Camilla's dress is solved?” I said.

Alexa said: “Edwina selected one for you. It's being shortened. Ready tomorrow. You don't even have to pick it up.”

They do say be careful what you wish for. Having my bail revoked started to look like a better prospect than wearing a bridemaid's dress selected by the Starch Queen.

“What kind of music?” Alvin said. “I have a superb Jimmy Buffett collection. I'd be glad to let you have it.”

I would owe him one for the attempt at deflection.

“Then,” Edwina said, with just the tiniest flicker in Alvin's direction, “there's just the rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?” I blurted.

“Oh, Camilla.”

I hate it when they all speak at once. “Okay, okay, of course, the wedding's a big deal. But aren't they all the same? It's not like we haven't done it before.” Everyone was looking at me. “I thought this was in place of the rehearsal. What?”

Edwina narrowed her eyes, “Of course, there's a rehearsal. It's a time-honoured tradition. Although you appear to be unaware of it.”

I thought I heard Alexa sniffle.

Edwina crossed her arms. “For my peace of mind, Camilla, tell us where the rehearsal is and when.”

Mrs. Parnell leaned forward and whispered to me, “She brings to mind Churchill at his finest hour.”

I can think on my feet. Where would it be? Daddy always says when your back's to the wall, use your brain.

“St. Jim's, of course. Sunday night.”

Edwina's eyebrow remained raised.

“Saturday,” I amended. You probably can't have a rehearsal on a Sunday.

Edwina's nostrils flared. I was running out of options.

“Friday evening then.” I detected a sigh of relief around the table. “What are you worried about? I'll be there.”

That did the trick. Conversation turned to the wonderful view of the canal.

“Terribly romantic,” Mrs. Parnell said. “With those twinkly lights and the fresh snow and skaters.”

My father smiled. “We must come here again.”

Alexa leaned over and whispered, “Let's go to the ladies', Camilla.”

“I don't need to go.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What? Ouch. Okay.”

Once we were through the door, she let me have it. “I want you to promise on your honour to be nice to the best man. Is that clear?”

The best man. Maybe I
was
underinvolved in this wedding. I tried to remember who the best man was. One of Alexa's boys? But hadn't Edwina just said they were walking her down the aisle? Of course, they could do both. I couldn't remember anyone mentioning it. I racked my brain, but it was full of Benning and Lindsay and Elaine Ekstein. No matter what, I knew better than to let on I had no idea who the best man was.

“Why wouldn't I be nice to the best man?”

Alexa leaned over and whispered, “Promise you won't make those horrible remarks about his tail getting caught in the door.”

When we returned to the table, Leonard Mombourquette lifted his champagne glass to toast Alexa. His whiskers twitched.