The Glass Coffin

CHAPTER
5

Jill was silent as she pulled on the slacks and sweater I’d brought, but after she’d run a comb through her hair, she turned to me. “I didn’t kill him,” she said. “I got the blood on me when I found his body.”

I indicated Officer Ciarniello with my eyes. “We don’t need to talk about this now,” I said.

“But I need you to know,” she said.

I met her eyes. “I know.”

Officer Ciarniello popped her head around the door. “Inspector Kequahtooway will be waiting.”

“We can’t have that.” The cheekiness was vintage Jill, but the delivery was flat.

Kevin Hynd was still at his post by the door to the ladies’ room. As we came out, he slid his arm through Jill’s. “Don’t volunteer anything,” he said, then led us towards the elevator.

Alex was sitting on small couch just inside the room where the wedding and reception had been held. He was talking to a petite, curvy blonde named Pam Levine. She was an associate producer on “Canada Tonight,” and when we’d run into one another Christmas shopping, she’d announced that the bodysuit she was wearing to Jill’s wedding would shoot her straight to the top of Santa’s list of Bad Little Girls. Nobody would have disputed Pam’s claim that her lipstick-red outfit was a sizzler, but as she answered Alex’s questions, she didn’t look naughty, she looked terrified.

Kevin led us to a table well away from the windows that faced the maze where Evan had been killed. With his Captain Trip insouciance and grizzled masculinity, Kevin did not, at first, seem like one of nature’s gentlemen, but he was courtly as he pulled out chairs for Jill, Officer Ciarniello, and me. Jill and I sank into ours, but Officer Ciarniello remained standing. When Alex came over, he dismissed her, and she left, struggling under the weight of Jill’s gown in the evidence bag.

Alex sat down and Kevin took the chair opposite him. “Is there a reason that you’re staying?” Alex asked.

“I’m Ms. Osiowy’s lawyer,” Kevin said.

Alex’s eyes widened. “And you cook too,” he said.

“What a long strange trip it’s been,” Kevin said pleasantly. He gave Alex his full name, then said, “I’ve instructed my client not to volunteer any information.”

“Fair enough,” Alex said. “I’ll just ask my questions.”

As he shifted in his chair to face Jill, Alex’s body language and tone changed. I was hyper-alert, anxious to know how he would treat her. Alex had come to know Jill through me. He didn’t trust the media. As an aboriginal cop who had come off his reserve to work in the system, Alex was wary of the institutions that govern our lives and of the people who run them, but he had grown genuinely fond of Jill.

“What happened here tonight?” he asked.

Jill chewed the nail polish on her thumbnail. “I wish I knew,” she said.

“Just tell me what you can,” Alex said, and his voice was soft with empathy.

Jill was a savvy journalist, and under normal circumstances, she would have seen through the warm reassurances that are standard issue for officers playing the Good Cop role. These were not normal circumstances, and when Jill exhaled and smiled gratefully at Alex, I knew she was seriously off her game. I shot a glance at Kevin Hynd.

“I’m on it,” he muttered. He leaned close to his new client. “Jill, the less you say, the better.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied.

“Then tell me everything you know,” Alex said. There was urgency in his voice. He was pressing her because he knew the window of opportunity opened by her vulnerability could slam shut at any time. “How did you come to be out there by the snow maze, Jill?”

“I was looking for…” She caught herself. “I was looking for someone.”

The cords in Alex’s neck tensed. “Who?”

“Just a guest I hadn’t spoken to. An old friend from the network. Someone told me she’d gone outside for a smoke, so I decided to join her.”

Alex put down his pen and stared at Jill. “You left your own wedding reception to step outside for a smoke in the middle of a blizzard?”

Jill was cool. “I hadn’t had a cigarette in three hours, and it had been a stressful day.” She raised her hand to deflect a hasty interpretation. “Not because anything was wrong – just because there’s stress in every wedding.”

“All right, so you’re out in front of the gallery, lighting up with your friend…”

“No,” Jill cut him off. “She wasn’t there. I’d missed her. I decided that since I was already outside, I’d have a cigarette.”

“In the blizzard,” Alex said. This time he made no attempt to disguise his scepticism.

“There’s a portico out front that offers some shelter,” Jill said. “Besides, by that time the wind had died down.”

“And the weather had become so pleasant you decided to stroll over to the maze.”

“Inspector, if you keep jerking Jill around, we’re out of here.” Kevin Hynd removed a rose from the centrepiece and handed it to his client with a flourish. “We’re solid,” he said.

It was a gallant gesture, and Jill rewarded him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said. “For the flower and for the reminder that the inspector is no longer a friend.”

Alex winced. He was a good officer, but he was also a man sensitive to rejection, and for a moment, I felt my heart go out to him. The feeling didn’t last. If lines were being drawn, I was on Jill’s side.

Jill twirled the rose between her thumb and index finger. “Here’s what happened,” she said. “Take it, or leave it. I was standing in the portico smoking when I heard a cry – not a cry exactly, but obviously the sound of someone in trouble. It was coming from the direction of the maze, so I went over.” Jill’s eyes lost their focus. She was back at the scene. I’d had my own doubts about Jill’s story to this point, but suddenly her words had the ring of truth.

Alex seemed to believe her too. “You were wearing a wedding gown,” he said. “Why didn’t you just go inside and get somebody to call 911?”

Jill’s eyes flashed. “Damn it, Alex, you know me. You know that if I heard someone in agony, my first thought wouldn’t be what I was wearing or how I could offload the problem onto someone else. Why can’t you get your head around the fact that I did what any decent human being would do?”

Alex didn’t raise his eyes from his notepad. “All right,” he said. “You heard a cry and you responded. What happened next?”

“When I was about halfway to the maze, the sounds stopped,” Jill said. “I kept going until I came to the entrance. I went in. That’s when I found Evan. The walls were blocking the light, so I couldn’t see him until it was too late. He was just inside.” She bit her lip. “I fell right on top of him. For a few seconds I just lay there. I was stunned. Finally, I put my hand against his throat to see if he had a pulse. That’s when I touched the ulu – it was stuck here.” Jill placed her fingers against her own carotid artery. “I knew enough not to take it out. That’s how people bleed to death.” Her eyes were vacant. It was clear she was teetering on the brink of shock, and Kevin tapped her hand with his own, bringing her back.

Jill exchanged glances with him, then she continued. “I put my ear against Evan’s mouth to hear if he was breathing. He didn’t seem to be. I ran back to the gallery. There was a commissionaire just inside. He phoned the police. Then I went to look for…,” she hesitated, and in that moment, I knew that whatever came next would be a lie. “There was a medical doctor at the reception,” Jill said. “I went to see if I could find her.”

“So you went back upstairs to the party,” Alex said.

“Yes,” Jill said. “And from that point on, there are a hundred people who can tell you what I did.”

“We’ll be talking to every one of them,” Alex said dryly.

Jill turned to Kevin Hynd. “Can we go now?”

Kevin leaned back in his chair. “Inspector?”

Alex didn’t look up. “Tell your client to stay in town. I want her available.”

Jill stood up abruptly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Alex.”

“I still need someone to identify Gabriel Leventhal’s body,” Alex said.

Jill’s voice was icy, “And you expect me to do it.”

“I’m not a monster,” Alex said. “I was hoping you could suggest someone.”

“Felix Schiff took over as best man when Gabe didn’t show up,” I said. “He’s known Gabe for years.”

Alex shrugged. “Point him out, and you can be on your way.”

“He’s not here,” Jill said.

“Where is he?” Alex said.

Jill looked away. “Back at the hotel, I guess.”

“You don’t know? He was the best man at your wedding. I would think when he left the reception, he might say goodbye and mention where he was headed.” Alex’s face was dark with anger. “Jill, ever since we sat down for this interview, you and your lawyer have been dumping all over me because I’m trying to do my job. You say you’re innocent. Then let me hear the truth. No more lies. No more evasions.”

“I’m not lying,” Jill said. “I haven’t seen Felix since… since before I went outside to have that cigarette.”

“Nobody knows; nobody tells,” Alex said, seemingly to himself. “What hotel is he staying at?”

“The Saskatchewan,” Jill said.

“A straight answer. Thank you very much.” Alex raised his hand in dismissal. “You can leave now.”

Bryn was with her aunts at the top of the staircase that curved to the main floor. The three women formed a provocative triptych. Shoulders squared, jaw set, Claudia MacLeish was stoic. Bryn, too, was composed, but tears ran down her cheeks as if somewhere inside her there was a well of sorrow that could not be stilled. Tracy’s woe was unrestrained. Hands cupped over her eyes, she sobbed with such intensity that her slender body seemed to convulse. Her suffering might have touched a stranger, but we “Magictown” aficionados had caught Tracy’s act before. The cupped hands and the sobs were tipoffs that, once again, the Broken Wand Fairy’s powers had failed her.

If I had had magical powers, I would have made all three women disappear, but like the Broken Wand Fairy, I was mired in the real world. All I could do was watch as Jill ran to Bryn, clasped the girl’s bare shoulders, and assessed her anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Bryn said. The tears were still flowing, but her words did not suggest deep and abiding grief. “I’m glad he’s dead,” she said.

Jill drew the girl to her. “Shh…,” she murmured. “You mustn’t say that.”

Bryn broke away. “Why not? It’s true. It’s not like I haven’t told you a million times that I hated him.” She whirled to face her aunts. “I told you too. He deformed my life, and nobody did anything about it. Now somebody has. Just don’t expect me to be a hypocrite like everybody else.”

It was a situation that demanded quick and deft handling, and Kevin Hynd supplied it. “We haven’t met,” he said, extending his hand to Bryn. “I’m Jill’s lawyer. Since you’re her stepdaughter now, I’m going to give you some legal advice.”

Bryn took his hand warily. “What’s the advice?”

“Put a sock in it,” Kevin said equitably. “There are cops hanging off the rafters here. If you want to rant, wait for a change of venue.”

“I’m not leaving Jill,” Bryn said quickly.

“You don’t have to,” Jill said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Stay with us,” I said and immediately regretted the invitation. I would have shared a pup-tent with Jill, but the idea of having Bryn at close quarters was not appealing. I didn’t like her, and Angus’s readiness to leave the reception suggested I wasn’t the only one who suspected his goddess had feet of clay.

“Finally, a decision.” Claudia shifted into full take-charge mode. “Let’s move,” she said. “The only thing that calms Tracy down when she’s this hysterical is one of her pills and a massage, and these healing hands of mine won’t be able to do their job unless they’ve spent some time wrapped around a big glass of Johnny Walker. Bryn can pick up her stuff when you drop us off at the hotel.”

Bryn’s eyes widened. “No,” she said. “I’m not going back there. Just pack up my things and send them to Joanne’s in a taxi.”

Claudia frowned. “If that’s what you want…”

“It is,” Bryn said.

“And that’s it?” Tracy’s voice was jagged. “After seventeen years, you just walk out of my life?”

“Oh please,” Bryn said. “Like you care about anybody but you.”

Jill turned to Claudia and Tracy. “She’s had a lot to deal with today.”

Claudia made no attempt to hide her exasperation. “Bryn, I may not have done enough, but I did the best I could.” She gestured towards Tracy. “So did she.”

“Bite me!” Bryn snapped, then flew down the spiral staircase. I watched her, surprised and oddly heartened. For the first time since I’d met Bryn, I knew I had heard her true voice. It wasn’t pretty, but it was authentic. As she disappeared into the lobby, I found myself hoping that despite everything that had been done to her, the bouncy egotism of the seventeen-year-old would get Bryn through.

When we came in, Taylor was lying on the hall floor with her head on Willie’s side, gazing at the angels suspended from the flocked tips of her tree. The invisible music box was still playing “The Way We Were.” As I listened to its endless, tinny repetitions, I knew I had discovered a fresh circle of hell.

The blast of cold air from the open door roused Taylor from her reverie. “Is the party over?” she asked, looking up at us.

“Yes,” Jill said. “It’s over – big time.”

Kevin had gravitated towards Angels Among Us. “Serious foliage,” he said.

Taylor bobbed her head in agreement. “Do you know who all the angels are?”

Kevin perused the tree carefully and nodded. “Every last one.”

“They’re all dead,” Taylor said. “But look at the card.”

Kevin put on his wire-rimmed glasses and read. “It’s true,” he said. “The great ones never really die.”

Angus loped down the stairs and took in the scene. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Let’s go up to your room,” Bryn said. “I don’t feel like talking about this in front of everybody else.”

“If you want privacy, you can use the family room,” I said. “Nobody’s in there.”

Bryn glared at me, but my son shot me a look of relief. “Good plan. My room’s pretty much of a slag heap.”

After Angus and Bryn left, I turned to Jill and Kevin. “Slag heap or living room?”

“Normally I’m a slag heap man,” Kevin said. “But this is a professional visit.”

I didn’t remember a chapter in Ms. Manners’ book of etiquette that covered entertaining a friend who was a murder suspect and her lawyer, but I did my best. As we walked into the living room, I turned on lights, flicked on the gas fireplace, and made the hostess’s offer. “What can I get you?” I asked. “Coffee? A drink? It’s the holiday season, so I’m well stocked.”

“Actually,” Jill said. “What I’d like is a joint.”

“Can’t help you there,” I said.

“I can,” Kevin said. “As long as Joanne doesn’t mind.”

“Joanne doesn’t mind.” I said. “It’s for medicinal purposes.”

Kevin pulled a baggie out of his pocket, rolled an expert joint, and handed it to Jill. He rolled a second one and offered it to me.

I shook my head. Kevin shrugged, touched the tip of the joint with a lit match, and sucked deeply. Beaming like a benevolent Buddha, he leaned back in his chair. “Truth-telling time,” he said. “And, Joanne, I know how this sounds, but I think it would be better if you left.”

Jill started to protest, but I cut her off. “Kevin’s right,” I said. “What you tell him is covered by lawyer-client privilege, but what you tell me is fair game. Besides, Taylor and I are at a critical juncture in Little Women. Beth is just about to leave this vale of sorrow, suffering, and tears.”

Jill inhaled and gave me a half-smile. “I love that part. Beth always made my fillings ache.”

Apparently Taylor shared Jill’s opinion of the saintliest March sister. When Beth breathed her last, Taylor rolled over with a satisfied sigh and fell into a sound sleep. I turned off the light thinking Claudia’s idea of a super-sized Johnny Walker had much to recommend it. Willie had other plans. He was waiting on the threshold of Taylor’s room, and he leapt to attention as soon as he saw me. It was well past time for his after-dinner walk, and as I followed him down the stairs, his tail stump wagged with anticipation. Once again, the universe was unfolding as it should. I hadn’t made it much past the landing when Angus caught up with me. “I can take Willie,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said. “But if you want to stay with Bryn…”

Angus lowered his voice, “Actually, Mum, I’d kind of like to get out of here for a while.”

“Situation getting a little intense?” I said.

He shook his head in bemusement. “It’s not intense at all.”

“Bryn did tell you about what happened to her father?”

“Yeah. He’s been dead – what? Four hours? Bryn’s already got the whole situation wrapped up and put away. When Dad died, I was a fucking zombie for months.”

“People handle things differently,” I said.

“I guess,” Angus said. “But all Bryn seems to care about is whether she’s still going to go to New York for New Year’s Eve. Don’t get me wrong. I feel sorry for her, but she weirds me out.”

“Then stay away from her,” I said. “Take Willie for his walk, and I’ll help Bryn get settled.”

“I don’t think she needs any help,” Angus said. “She’s watching Miracle on 34th Street. She said that when she gets tired, she’ll go to bed.”

“I’ll get her some towels,” I said. “I’ll even put that lavender aromatherapy candle you gave me in her room. It might help her relax.”

Angus sniffed the air. “If she wants to relax, she should just stand here for a while. Somebody’s got themselves some pretty sweet ganja.”

“Jill and her lawyer needed to unwind,” I said.

“So the next time I’m tense, I can roll a spliff?”

“Is that what they call it now?”

“Yeah. Spliff, doob, dart. Joint is still perfectly acceptable though.”

“You’re quite the font of information,” I said.

“Well you know how it is, Mum. Every so often I just check out High Times on the Internet.” He read my look. “Time for me to hit the trail before I dig myself in any deeper?”

“You’re a clever lad,” I said.

Watching Willie pull Angus through the snowdrifts was a powerful antidote for a lousy day. The combination of a boy, a dog, and a contact high had made me feel almost human again when a silver Audi I knew only too well pulled up in front of my house.

There had been times when Alex Kequahtooway and I had been so eager to touch one another that we had come together like teenagers, but those times were long past. Tonight, Alex came up the walk slowly, and I watched him approach with my arms folded across my chest. Under the harsh porch light, his face looked grey and tired, but mindful of Jill and Kevin in the living room, I didn’t invite him in.

“I know I’m persona non grata around here,” he said. “But I’m going to have to insist that someone in Jill’s little wedding party comes down to make a formal identification of Gabriel Leventhal’s body. We haven’t been able to locate Felix Schiff, and we need to move before the trail gets any colder.”

“What trail? Gabe died of a heart attack.”

“Maybe not,” Alex said. “Apparently the medical examiner found something that raised a red flag for him. He says we should treat this death as a potential homicide.”

“Gabe was murdered?” I said, and as soon as I’d formed the words, I knew the possibility had been in the back of my mind all along. Perhaps that’s why instead of reacting with tears or disbelief, I was suddenly furious. Gabriel Leventhal was one of the good guys, the kind the rest of us hope will stick around. “This is all so wrong,” I said.

“Then do what you can to make it right,” Alex said. “Come down to the morgue, so we can get moving on the investigation.”

“I’ll get my jacket,” I said. As I passed by the living room, I opened the door a crack. Jill and Kevin were together on the couch, talking quietly. “Alex is here,” I said. “They can’t find Felix, so it looks like I have to make the identification.”

Jill started towards me. “Jo, you don’t have to do this. Gabe didn’t have any family. There’s no rush.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” I said.

I pulled the door closed and went back to Alex. “I’ll be ready in two minutes,” I said.

He stared studiously out the window as I put on my boots and coat. “Ready,” I said finally, and that was the only word that passed between us until we walked into Pasqua Hospital, a health centre that contains a first-class cancer facility, medical offices where specialists treat the myriad weaknesses to which our flesh is heir, and a wing devoted to discovering how the dead came to be dead. That night, Pasqua’s lobby was festive. Alex gazed with distaste at the lights that framed the entrances to the coffee and gift shops, the shook-foil garlands that hung from the ceiling, and the tree decorated with homemade paper angels. “I hate hospitals at Christmas,” he said. “Bad enough to be sick and scared without having to look at decorations that remind you of a time when you were happy.”

Unless your personal happy times involved the scent of body parts floating in formaldehyde, there was nothing in the Pasqua morgue to trigger a madeleine moment. The medical examiner on duty was a Charles Addams cartoon of a man: tall, pale, and sepulchral. When we came in, he was hard at work, and as luck would have it, the cadaver he was working on was Gabe Leventhal’s. Battered, bloody, bruised, and broken, it seemed impossible that any new indignity could be visited upon the body of this decent man, yet the Y-shaped incision that bisected Gabe’s torso looked fresh.

My head swam. Out of nowhere, a memory: Alex at my kitchen table telling me there was a rule about rookies and autopsies – the bigger the rookie, the faster he fell. “It takes them a while to learn to disassociate,” he had explained. I closed my eyes, trying to distance myself. Behind me, the medical examiner’s voice resonated with the confidence of a bass in a church choir. “Breathe deeply, then just look at the face, and say the name.”

I followed instructions. “It’s him,” I said. “It’s Gabriel Leventhal.”

“Thank you,” the medical examiner said. “The woman at the desk outside will give you the appropriate papers to sign.”

I’d been dismissed, but I didn’t head for the door. A window ran the length of the lab, and I gravitated towards it. As I stared at the snow-stilled city, Alex and the M.E., oblivious to my presence, talked shop.

“So what have you got?” Alex asked.

“For starters, a real pharmaceutical stew in the bloodstream – I can’t be more specific until we get the rest of the lab results, but for the nonce, let’s just say the preliminary screens are puzzling. And there’s the bruising.”

“Two tons of truck backed over him,” Alex said.

“Acknowledged,” the M.E. said. “As is the fact that he apparently spent the night in a snowbank. All the same, some of those bruises look old to me – and here’s the capper: there are traces of skin and blood under his fingernails.”

“He was in a fight,” Alex said.

“Or defending himself against an assault,” the M.E. said. “Whatever the case, someone’s given you a Christmas present, Alex. All you have to do is find a match for the DNA under Leventhal’s fingernails.”

“Start with a sample from Evan MacLeish,” I said.

The two men turned towards me. From their expressions, it was clear they had forgotten I was in the room. The medical examiner pointed to the door. “The exit’s that way,” he said.

“Let her stay,” Alex said. “She may be able to shed some light on this.”

The M.E. shrugged. “Your call, Alex.” Then he turned to me. “So start shedding light.”

“This morning I noticed Evan was wearing concealer,” I said. When the two men looked blank, I explained. “It’s heavy-duty makeup – the kind you use to cover a blemish. Evan said he’d cut himself shaving, but his jaw was swollen.”

The M.E. beamed “Your lucky day, Alex. Not only are you getting an early Christmas present, it’s tied up with a pretty bow.”

Alex shook his head. “This present’s more shit than pony,” he said. “Have you had any deliveries in the last hour or so?”

“I don’t know,” the M.E. said. “I’ve been stuck in here. This is our busy season. We’ve got a woman from pathology helping out. She’ll be able to tell you if we have any new arrivals.”

“No need to trouble her,” Alex said. “Evan MacLeish was murdered this afternoon.”

The medical examiner’s expression grew even more lugubrious. “Well hell,” he said. “Just when I was starting to believe there really was a Santa Claus.”

When Alex dropped me at our house, Angus was outside, shovelling snow.

“Being kind to your old mum?” I said.

“I just didn’t want to hang around inside.”

“What’s going on,” I said.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just Bryn.”

“She wanted to get up-close-and-personal?” I said.

“I don’t know what she wants,” he said. “After you left, Jill and her lawyer took off.”

“Where did they go?”

“To his store. He said they needed to be sure nobody walked in on them, which didn’t make any sense – I mean, who’s going to walk in on them in our house? Anyway, Jill asked me to keep an eye on Bryn, so I went in to watch the movie with her.” My son looked down at his boots. “Mum, I was there about three minutes when she started coming onto me.”

“And that was a problem?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It was a problem because it was totally BS. Bryn is really hot, Mum. What’s she doing faking this big passion for a guy like me?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know anything – except that all of a sudden, I’m not crazy about the idea of going inside either.”

“Want me to get you a shovel?” Angus asked.

“Good idea,” I said. “Let’s move a little snow around – shovel the day away.”

It took us half an hour to clear the walk and the driveway. The snow from the blizzard was crisp, even, and very, very, deep. By the time we were finished, my lungs were aching, and my muscles were crying foul, but as I looked at the path we had cleared, I felt a twinge of hope. Evan MacLeish was dead; Jill was safe; we didn’t have to let the misery bury us. Tomorrow the sun would rise earlier and stronger. The northern hemisphere was beginning its movement towards the time of budding life and fresh beginnings. Buoyed by possibilities, we headed for our front door. We’d almost made it when Angus stopped and pointed upwards.

Behind the filmy curtains of the bedroom, Bryn’s silhouette was ghostly. As soon as she realized we’d spotted her, she opened the window and called down. “It was fun watching you,” she said. “Especially since you didn’t know I was here.” She waved, then closed the window.

Angus ripped off his toque. “See what I mean, Mum,” he whispered. “She’s totally psycho.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction. I knew that in celebrating the end of the time of cold and darkness, I’d been woefully premature.