Getting Away With Murder

ELEVEN

The restaurant Wellington Court was literally just around the corner from where I’d talked to Paulette Staples, Wise’s first wife. His second wasn’t waiting for me when I asked for my table inside this converted house a chilly block away from the business centre of town. To my right, as I sat facing the door, were a series of bright watercolours of doorways and window sills in some sunny Mediterranean setting. The bar, not far from the door, looked, at first glance, like it never served anything stronger than a Shirley Temple, but a closer examination showed that it stocked all the standard items, with a few locally brewed beers thrown in.

When she came in, I could see that she had spotted me right away. She started over to my table, but was sidetracked by a shout from a woman in a blue outfit with enough salad in a bowl in front of her to keep her and her best friends fed for a month. The woman introduced Lily to the woman with her. They laughed together. They laughed again and then Lily continued towards me. Lily Wise was a small woman who looked like she might boast that she still weighed what she had when she was twenty-five. She now looked fifty, was lean and well taken care of. I could picture her doing aerobics in a black leotard, while an off-stage voice counted off the stretches. She wore glasses with thick lenses and pale blue frames. Her hair looked like it had been cropped short by someone who knew what he was doing. There were strands of white mixed in with the prevailing black. I could picture her on committees, working with people, managing things.

“Mr. Cooperman?” she asked as I started getting up. When I was on my feet she added: “Don’t get up,” and I relaxed back into my chair again. She sloughed a mink coat which she draped over the back of her chair like it was off the rack. Some people are sensitive about wearing furs nowadays; apparently not Lily Wise. She rubbed her glasses with tissue and a waiter brought her a red drink. “They know me here,” she explained. “That’s why they indulge my passion for Campari. Are you having something?”

“I just got here myself, Mrs. Wise.”

“You better call me Lily or Lilian. I’m not all that fond of my married name.”

“That’s what Paulette said.”

“One of the things we agree about.” I invited Lily to use my given name too, but she looked like she had a bitter almond in her mouth when I told her what it was. “Actually, Paulette and I agree about a lot of things.” I decided to try out the drink she was sipping. When it came, I enjoyed its astringent tartness, like the drink was sucking my cheeks from the inside. We both ordered our lunch: Lily, a quiche with a salad and I, a fancy pasta with vegetables. As long as Wise was picking up the tab, I thought I could experiment. It proved to be pretty good, a better choice than Lily’s. At least I ate mine, she just played with hers as though eating wasn’t something she approved of. While we were eating, she told me about her years of teaching before she met Wise. She grew up in Toronto and had that Toronto certainty about her.

“Well, Mr. Cooperman. Time to put away the table chat and get down to business. What do you want to know?”

“How much did Paulette tell you?”

“Somebody’s trying to kill Abe and you’re trying to stop it.”

“Good. Do you have any candidates?”

“There was a time when I had reason enough, but I’ve mellowed with the years. I don’t know who he’s in bed with these days. She might be worth talking to. Intimacy breeds the killer instinct, I find.”

“As far as I know, he’s not with anybody. I mean, there’s a woman in the house, but she’s married to Mickey Armstrong.”

“That would be Victoria. I’ve heard a lot about Victoria. From what I’ve heard, she’s not the compliant type. Nor is Mickey. No, I think you can rule her out as Abe’s bedroom companion at least. She may have a reason for killing him, but I doubt if the reason would be sexual. Are there just the three of them living there?”

“I’m not sure. There are some low types who flex their muscles from time to time.”

“The boys live in the house next door. Abe owns two of the houses on Dorset Crescent.”

“I didn’t know that. Thanks. Does your daughter get along with him, Lily?”

“Julie has to be polled on that question fairly frequently, Mr. Cooperman. Sometimes she thinks that he is her own Teddy bear daddy, and at other times, she could gladly cut his throat.”

“Nobody’s tried using a knife yet. That’s a mark in her favour, although I hear she’s pretty good with a gun. What does Julie do for a living, Lily?”

“Nothing,” she said, taking out her irritation at me or the question on a piece of lettuce. “Julie is between marriages just now. Her current boyfriend is a mover and shaker in the fashion industry. Have you heard of Mode Magazine?”

“I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll ask my father. He was in ladies’ ready-to-wear for over thirty years.”

“What a joy for you! But, Mr. Cooperman, we are not talking about the same thing. Monsieur Didier Santerre has never spent an afternoon on Spadina Avenue in Toronto, which is where, I’m guessing I admit, your father learned the shmate business. I mean no offence, Mr. Cooperman, it’s just that there are worlds of difference between Spadina Avenue and the Champs Elysées.”

“I begin to see,” I said. “But why don’t you start calling me Benny? I’ll feel better.”

“My late brother was a Benny, Mr. Cooperman. It’s not a name I like to use.”

“Try Ben or Benjamin. Anything you like. I feel peculiar calling you Lily while you’re still calling me mister.”

“Yes, I know a family where they call the cleaning woman Mrs. Tarnapol and she calls them Harry and Bernice. What odd times we live in, Mr. C.”

“That’s a little better. We were talking of high fashion.”

“You know, of course, that Julie’s best friend is Mona McGuire? You’ve heard of her at least?”

“That’s not a name I know.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Mona McGuire just happens to be the world’s most famous, and highest-paid, model. She’s a world-famous celebrity. She also happens to come from right here in Grantham.”

“Good for her and bully for us. What does this have to do with Julie’s relationship with her old man?”

“Julie would never introduce her friends to Abe! She’s deeply ashamed of her father, Mr. C. She doesn’t use the name Wise-”

“But I understand she spends his money.”

“No need to be offensive! She has a right to use Abe’s wealth. She is his only daughter.”

“We keep coming back to that. Does she spend any time here in town or is she off on the Champs Elysées?”

“She has an apartment on the Île St. Louis, but she still has a house here in Grantham. As a matter of fact, Mona and Didier spend time here as well. Morna’s family lives here and Morna’s still a relatively simple, unspoiled girl.”

“Not the sort who would try to shorten Abe Wise’s days, I’ll bet. What does this Santerre guy have to do with the magazine and the model?”

“I can’t imagine anyone so insulated, Mr. C. You really are a phenomenon.”

“Yeah, I hear that all the time. A magazine costs a pretty penny to put on the stands. Is it in good shape?”

“Advertisers are trampling one another trying to buy space. Didier is the publisher and founder. He is an important man of our times. Morna has been his protégée since she was fourteen.”

“Protégée. I like the sound of that. So, neither one of them is interested in any of Abe Wise’s big bucks?”

“Hardly, Mr. C.”

“And what is Julie’s attraction for Santerre and Morna McGuire? Is she a designer or something?”

“Julie has a flair for creating interest. People watch her. The columnists notice where she goes, what she does and, of course, what she wears.”

“I begin to understand, Lily. Do you think Hart would kill his father?” I said, trying a new direction.

“He might want to,” she said, without changing her expression, “but frankly I doubt if he has the guts.”

“Can you think of an enemy, from the present or the past who might want to see him dead?” She thought for a moment, while I finished off the last strand of linguine or fettuccine or whatever it was lying there alone on my plate.

“He’s led such a strange life. It’s hard to imagine where to start looking for enemies. But, apart from the general hurly-burly of a life in criminal circles, and a lot of people who would figuratively like to wring his neck, I can’t think of a solitary name. Nothing stands out.”

“Thank you for helping out, Lily.”

“I only hope I haven’t muddied the waters.”

“Oh, one thing: what do you know about a policeman named Neustadt?”

“He’s the one who just died, isn’t he? That was a strange sort of accident. Like falling up a flight of stairs. Abe used to talk about him. He thought that he wasn’t straight. There was something not quite right, crooked, maybe, about him. I’ve heard others say it too. I think he went a little off his head, didn’t he? I know that Abe hated his guts, that’s all. Abe used to brood about Ed Neustadt. I suppose it was mutual. Those things often are. I think he was funny about women.”

“How do you mean, ‘funny’?”

“I met him a few times at different functions when he was deputy chief or acting chief. A woman senses these things.”

“If Neustadt wasn’t already dead, I’d say I’d found the man trying to kill your ex-husband.”

“Maybe you have, Mr. C. Have you thought of that? When did he die? If Abe discovered that Neustadt was trying to kill him, he’d put out a contract on him pretty quick. Maybe, you aren’t the only one working on this case. Maybe Abe’s already taken care of it.”

“But why would he hire me?”

^“Why as a cover, of course. Don’t you ever read mystery stories?”