The Last Good Day

CHAPTER
6

It was drizzling by the time I got to my parking spot in front of the College of Law. I was as tired as I could ever remember being, and when I checked the skies, I was relieved to see that the clouds rolling in were the colour of asphalt. God in Her infinite wisdom had heard my prayers. A gully-washer was on the way, and that meant a reprieve from my date with the yellow pig on the merry-go-round at Kinsmen Park.

The blessings continued. Mieka made my favourite creamy Spanish gazpacho with sourdough bread for dinner, and after we’d finished eating we sat by the big window in the kitchen watching the storm and listening to Taylor read from a book she’d found in Maddy’s room about Inuksuit, the rock figures the Inuit build to mark the Arctic landscape.

Taylor was passionate about process. She liked to know how to make things – origami, compost, lasagna from scratch – and the book’s instructions about how to pile stones to create landscape intrigued her. She was, however, puzzled by the fact that a book so obviously intended for adults had found its way into Maddy’s library. When she asked, Mieka was matter-of-fact.

“A father’s logic,” she said. “Maddy’s favourite book this summer is Hide and Sneak, and there’s an Inukshuk in it. So Maddy’s father bought her a book that tells her more than anyone needs to know about Inuksuit.”

“History repeating itself,” I said. “When Mieka was Maddy’s age, she stacked six blocks on top of one another, and her dad came home with a book on the world’s greatest architects.”

Taylor turned to Mieka. “So how come you didn’t grow up to be an architect?”

Mieka shrugged. “I discovered the Easy-Bake Oven,” she said.

When the lights flickered and the power went out, Mieka lit candles to ward off the gloom. I held Lena a little closer, and Taylor taught Maddy how to tell the distance of a strike by counting off the time between a lightning flash and a thunderclap. It wasn’t long before my eyes grew heavy, and when Maddy decided it was story time, she didn’t have to coax me to crawl into bed with her and read. We unearthed a flashlight, burrowed under the covers, and started on the pile of books beside her bed. Somewhere between Hide and Sneak and A Promise Is a Promise, I fell asleep. When I awoke, the room was dark and quiet, and my granddaughter’s small fingertips were resting on the pulse in my neck. I turned so I could see the other twin bed in the room. Taylor was in it, breathing rhythmically. I watched as she stirred, then settled in. A sense of peace, unfamiliar as it was welcome, washed over me, and I rolled over and drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep that lasted until morning.

During the next twenty-four hours I kicked back and let the domestic rituals of a happy household carry me along. When we woke up, Taylor and I took the girls outside so Mieka could catch some extra sleep. The horizon was bright, and Taylor dried the front steps off with an old beach towel so the four of us could sit on the top step in our nighties, watching 9th Street spring into the accelerated rhythms of Monday-morning life. Mieka’s catering business was closed on Mondays, so when she woke up we all gave ourselves over to the sweet laziness of a day off. We took a long and aimless walk, then spent the rest of the morning in the backyard, running through the sprinkler and playing ball. Mieka cranked up James Brown on the CD player, and she and the girls rocked to “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag”; we ate a picnic lunch, and then the little girls and I retreated to my shady bedroom and I napped with a granddaughter in each arm.

When we woke up, we made the long-anticipated trip to Kinsmen Park, where Taylor and my granddaughters squeezed into the seats of the same miniature train and rode the same merry-go-round that Mieka and her brothers had thrilled to during Saskatoon visits when they were kids. There were a few changes – an ear-splitting whistle on the train and two new horses on the merry-go-round, a black stallion with wild green eyes and a zigzag blaze of white on his chest, and a bubblegum-pink pony with curling eyelashes and a lush showgirl mane. Maddy tried out both the newcomers, but the old yellow pig with a handful of freshly painted blue daisies sprinkled like freckles over his snout was still the favourite. As I watched Taylor hold Lena on the pig’s broad back and saw my granddaughter’s small body sway to the music and the wonder of it all, I gave thanks for summer moments – inconsequential and ephemeral, but capable of warming the bleakest day of deep winter.

Magic time, but Lawyers’ Bay was never far from my mind, and Mieka was quick to pounce when my smile grew fixed and my eyes deadened into a five-mile stare. A half-dozen times she asked me to tell her what was wrong, and a half-dozen times I shook her off and changed the subject. That night, after the kids were in bed, she buttonholed me.

“Last chance to tell me what’s going on,” she said. “I should warn you that I’m not going to let you leave town until you open up.”

“Mieka…”

“I’ve been your daughter for thirty-one years, remember? I know you. There’s nothing you love more than being with the grandkids, but you breeze in here yesterday, looking like hell, pat the girls on their heads, rip up to the university to see a law professor – no explanation given – then you fall into bed at seven p.m. and sleep for twelve hours.”

“It’s been a lousy week,” I said.

Mieka raised her hand in a halt gesture. “I’m not criticizing you; I’m worrying about you. You’ve been doing all the right things this weekend, but you keep slipping away from us. I know the accident at Lawyers’ Bay must have been a nightmare, but you haven’t brought it up once. There has to be something else.”

I took her hand in mine. She had her father’s hands, long-fingered, slender, and heartbreakingly familiar. The inner walls came tumbling down. Suddenly, the prospect of talking was very appealing. “There is something else,” I said.

“Let’s get some coffee and go out on the deck where it’s cool,” Mieka said. “The upstairs windows are open, so we can hear the girls if they need us.”

We carried out a tray with coffee things, and Mieka touched a match to a votive candle in a small blue metal box that protected it from the wind. Letters were cut out of the metal, and when the candle was lit, the spaces glowed, spelling out the word Harmony. For a few minutes we sat in the comforting half-light, inhaling the heavy sweetness of a July garden and listening to the low voices and bursts of laughter from the guests at a barbecue next door.

Finally, Mieka put down her mug and leaned towards me. “So, what’s going on?” she asked.

“I wish I knew,” I said. “Nothing fits, Mieka. For starters, despite what the media says, Chris Altieri’s ‘accident’ was no accident. It was a suicide, but I was with Chris the night it happened. He’d been through a rough time. A woman he’d been involved with had an abortion, and he’d been depressed about what had happened. But that night he seemed to turn a corner. When we said good night, he asked if he could come for a run with Willie and me the next morning. Two hours later he was dead.”

“Something could have triggered a relapse,” Mieka said. “He might have seen a baby or heard a child’s voice.” She peered at me, checking for a response. “Too melodramatic?”

“No,” I said. “He just seemed to have moved past that. And then at the funeral, a former student of mine who’s now a lawyer herself said she thought there was something very wrong at Falconer Shreve.”

A breeze caught the candle on our table; the letters spelling out Harmony flickered, then disappeared. Mieka didn’t seem to notice.

“Why was this woman talking to you? Why didn’t she go to the police?”

“She did go to the police,” I said. “She told them she was concerned about an acquaintance of hers who left Falconer Shreve suddenly and without explanation. The detective she talked to told her that sometimes people just walk away, and she should forget about it.”

“That’s ridiculous. I hope she reported him or her.”

I took a breath. “Mieka, the detective she talked to was Alex.”

Mieka shook her head vehemently. “I don’t believe that.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but it turns out Alex has a Falconer Shreve connection of his own. The new woman in his life is Lily Falconer, the wife of one of the partners.”

My daughter’s face tightened. “A married woman – great. What’s she like?”

“Enigmatic. Angry. Erotic.”

Mieka snorted. “Call me superficial, but I was thinking more along the lines of whether she’s drop-dead gorgeous and has a great bod.”

“No to the first, yes to the second,” I said.

My daughter took a sip of coffee. When she spoke she made no attempt to hide her impatience. “I don’t buy it,” she said. “You and Alex were happy together. He wouldn’t just sniff the air and follow the first woman who put out a scent, no matter how enigmatic, angry, and erotic she was.”

“Lily didn’t just happen along,” I said. “She and Alex have known one another for years. They both grew up on Standing Buffalo.”

“Then it could just be a brother-sister thing.”

“Like Siegmund and Sieglinde?”

“I don’t know who Siegmund and Sieglinde are,” Mieka said. “I’m the one who dropped out of university in first year, remember?”

“I remember,” I said.

“Till your dying day,” Mieka said dryly. “Anyway, Alex wanted out of your relationship. That happens. But the rest of this just doesn’t make sense. Alex wouldn’t get involved with a married woman. And he wouldn’t compromise his job by refusing to talk to someone who came to him with a problem.”

I picked up the pack of matches on the table and relit the harmony candle. It was cold comfort. “We’re dealing with facts here,” I said. “We may not want to believe them, but that doesn’t make them less true.”

“Poor Mum,” Mieka said. “No wonder you looked wiped when you got here. So what are you going to do?”

“Go back to the lake, I guess. See what happens next.”

“Not good enough,” Mieka said. “Be proactive. Talk to Alex.”

“As your Uncle Howard would say, ‘I’d rather be pecked to death by a duck.’ ”

Mieka laughed softly. “Funny, I don’t remember your ever going for the duck option. You’ve always been gutsy about tackling things head-on, and that’s what you should do now. Ask Alex why he blew off that lawyer who tried to tell him something was rotten at Falconer Shreve, and ask him, as nicely as possible of course, if the reason he left you was that he was screwing around with this Lily Falconer.”

“That’d be a memorable conversation,” I said.

“But a productive one.” Mieka stood up. “Clear the air. Find out what you can. Make sure the authorities know everything they need to know, then let them handle it. Mum, Greg and the girls and I are coming up to Lawyers’ Bay for the entire month of August. You’re going to have to be in fighting trim to put up with us till Labour Day.” She stretched. “Bedtime for me,” she said. “And for you.” She lifted my chin and looked at me speculatively. “You know what you need?”

“Do I have a choice about hearing this?”

“The same choice I had when you shared your thoughts about my dropping out of university.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“You need a good all-night date. Put Alex behind you and find a new guy. A little romance will give you back your glow.”

On the drive back to the lake, Taylor continued to be absorbed in the Inukshuk book Mieka had lent her, so the miles sped past in silence. I had plenty of time to consider my daughter’s advice – all of it. Mieka’s counsel to confront Alex was solid. Asking him the hard questions would be painful, and I might not like the answers. Still, it would be better to know. It would be good to learn what I could about Clare from the members of the tightly knit Moot Team, too. If one of the women had been in touch with her in the last eight months, the case was closed, but if none of those closest to Clare had heard from her, we were clearly dealing with a matter for the police. Fiat justitia: I would do what I could to make certain that justice was done, but once I’d got the ball rolling, I was going to step aside and let Anne Millar and Clare’s law-school friends take over. As Mieka had reminded me, August wasn’t far away, and I wanted to be in shape for some serious fun.

Mentally, I had crossed every t and dotted every i, but the sight that greeted me when we pulled up in front of our cottage was fresh proof that when humans make plans, the gods laugh. Noah Wainberg was on his hands and knees on the mat in front of our door. He had a green tool box beside him, and it appeared he was jimmying our lock.

“What’s Isobel’s dad doing?” Taylor asked.

“Only one way to find out,” I said, sliding out of the car and shaking the stiffness out of my legs. “Let’s ask him.”

Noah turned when he heard us. “Bad news,” he said. “You were robbed.”

My pulse quickened. “Is everybody okay?”

“Yeah. Nobody was home, but you should probably take a look around. Your son’s girlfriend – Leah, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Well, Leah gave the place the once-over. She didn’t think anything was missing except your laptop computer.”

“No great loss,” I said. “It’s vintage, and I haven’t really used it in ages. The main thing is that no one was hurt.”

“I agree. Material things are replaceable.”

Taylor’s eyes were wide. “Cats aren’t. They better not have taken my cats.”

“You’re probably safe on that score,” I said, but Taylor didn’t hear me. She had already raced into the house to check on Bruce and Benny.

“So when did the break-in happen?” I asked Noah.

“Last night. Leah and your son had taken your dog for a run down the beach. When they got back, the front door was open. This is the only cottage here without a security system. Kevin’s parents were pretty trusting, and he takes after them. Anyway, the lock I’ve installed is just temporary. A security company is coming out from the city tomorrow to hook you up.”

“That’s sort of sad, isn’t it?” I said.

Noah wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Sad but inevitable,” he said. “Oh, and I was supposed to tell you that Lily’s ordered a new laptop for you.”

“Everything taken care of,” I said.

He smiled lazily. “I can take the lock off the door if you want.”

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I said. “I guess I’m just a little shaken. How can there be a robbery in a gated community?”

Noah shrugged. “The water isn’t gated. Somebody wants to come up onto the beach in a canoe, I guess they can do what they want.”

“It’s kind of hard to imagine someone paddling up to steal a laptop,” I said. “The images don’t quite mesh.”

“We live in troubling times,” he said.

“That we do,” I said. “Look, can I get you a glass of iced tea or something? You’re getting the full blast of the sun there.”

“Some water would be good. Actually, so would some shade.”

I gestured towards the cottage’s shadowy recesses. “Let’s go inside,” I said.

Taylor was curled up on the couch with her cats and Willie. When he spotted me, Willie leaped off the couch and scrambled over to me.

“I’m glad to see you too,” I said, rubbing his head. When Noah and I went out to the porch, Willie stuck to me like glue.

“Bouviers are great dogs,” Noah said.

“Best dog I ever had,” I said. “If you’re ever in the market for a loyal if challenged companion, I highly recommend them.”

Noah scratched Willie’s head. “Delia’s frightened of dogs.”

“Did she have a bad experience?”

“No. She’s scared of a lot of things – dogs, spiders, thunderstorms. But she can present a brief to the Supreme Court without breaking a sweat, and I know of more than one macho lawyer who’s looked up at that big bench and fainted dead away.”

“Did you ever present a brief to the Supreme Court?”

“I never practised law,” Noah said quickly.

“But you graduated from law school,” I said. “When I was in Saskatoon I visited an old friend of mine who teaches at the College of Law. We were looking at photos of graduating classes. I hadn’t realized you were in the same class as Delia and… the others.”

“The ‘others’ being the members of the Winners’ Circle,” Noah said. “I was never a member of the Circle, but it’s been years since I was crushed by the omission. They’ve discovered I have my uses.” He tapped his tool box. “I’m the only one around here who can unplug a toilet.”

“My husband was a lawyer,” I said. “He always said that lawyers and plumbers did pretty much the same thing: remove the blocks that stop the system from working.”

“That’s about it. Give me a call if anything makes you nervous.” Noah drained his glass. “Hey, I almost forgot. That was a nice picture of you in the paper.”

“I didn’t see it,” I said.

“Sorry. How could you?” Noah walked over to the front door and picked up a rolled copy of the Leader Post. “Here – page one.”

One look at the picture and it was easy to see why it had made page one. The photograph was of me and Patsy Choi.

“I didn’t see her at the funeral,” Noah said. “Do you know her?”

“Just from the media,” I said. “She came in late and sat beside me.”

“She looks good,” Noah said.

“She does in person, too,” I agreed.

“I wonder what she’s like on the inside,” Noah said.

“Pretty fragile, I would imagine.”

“Aren’t we all?” Noah said. “Now let’s take a tour of your house and see if anything besides the laptop is missing.”

“You don’t have to stay,” I said.

Noah nodded. “I know, but there are times when a person shouldn’t be alone, and this is one of them.”

The place was shipshape. Having assured me that he could be there in two minutes if I needed him, Noah left with Taylor in tow. She’d had a good time in Saskatoon, but being away from the other two members of her triumvirate had been a wrench. After two days of Blue’s Clues and the Wiggles, Taylor was hankering for the company of girls who knew how to apply eyeshadow.

Alone, I realized that the break-in had made me anxious for reassurance that all was well with those I loved. A rumbling in my stomach tipped me to the fact that I was also hungry. Clearly, a visit to the Point Store would be just the ticket. Willie was mournful as I started out the door, so I picked up his leash. “You’ll have to wait outside, you know,” I said. He didn’t care.

Leah was busy behind the till when we arrived. She blew me a kiss, and I went back to the meat counter, where Angus was jawing with a customer. I waited while he finished up, then gave him a hug, asked him to make me a salami sandwich, and filled him in on his sister’s news. I was hankering after company, so I took my sandwich outside to pass the time at Coffee Row. The regulars had taken their places at the picnic table, but a card table was empty, so I poured myself a cup of weak coffee, chose a cookie from one of the yellow bags of generic biscuits, and settled in with Willie to eat my salami sandwich and see where the morning took us.

I wasn’t the only one who’d brought a dog to Coffee Row that morning. Morris, the dedicated smoker of Player’s Plains, had brought along his pet, a big yellow animal with a Buster Keaton face and what looked like a golden lab-mastiff pedigree. She was lying at her master’s feet, snoring. It was a tranquil scene: the old men in their John Deere caps sitting in the shade of the cottonwood trees smoking and nodding, and the dog with her head resting on her front paws, jowls spilling to the ground, body vibrating with every rumbling inhalation and exhalation. When Stan Gardiner came down from his flat and took his place at the head of the table, it was clear that the catalyst for some conversation had arrived.

“About time you came down to join your friends,” Morris said.

“Instead of sitting in your room watching your Lawrence Welk videos.” The speaker, a gnome with big ears and a high, aggrieved voice, picked up the theme. “What kind of thing is that for a man to do?”

“In my opinion, Aubrey, it’s about as valuable as sitting down here waiting for the hair in your ears to grow,” Stan Gardiner said. “So what’s the news across the nation?”

“Endzone’s got herself a new trick,” said Morris. “Watch this.” He waved a piece of bologna in the air. The big yellow dog opened one eye, then the other. Clearly, her master knew how to get her attention. “Endzone, drive the truck,” Morris barked.

The dog loped lazily towards a Ford half-ton. The door on the driver’s side was open and Endzone jumped into the driver’s seat, placed her paws on the steering wheel, and peered around.

“Look at that,” Morris marvelled. “Wouldn’t you swear she was driving that truck?”

“Apart from the fact that the door to the cab is open and the motor isn’t running, I guess I would,” Stan Gardiner agreed.

“Exit the truck,” Morris yelled. He held out the bologna. Endzone leaped down and snapped up the treat with a single bite. “Did you hear she took off again?” he asked.

“It’s in their blood,” Aubrey said sagely. “They can’t help themselves. Her mother was the same.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t end up killing two men like her mother did,” Stan said. “That was a real tragedy.”

I stared at Endzone with new eyes. It was hard to believe this sad-sack Buster Keaton dog had killer genes.

“She may have already started,” Morris said. He peeled a slice of bologna from the package and gummed it absent-mindedly. “I’ll bet when all is said and done, they’ll find out she had something to do with that Chris Altieri’s death. If he did commit suicide, which I doubt, I’ll bet it was because of her. The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree, and if the particular nut we’re talking about had stayed closer to the tree, it would have been better for everyone.”

Stan dipped a gingersnap in his coffee. “Nuts and trees. Why the hell can’t you ever just say what you want to say plain, so that an ordinary human being can understand what you’re saying?”

“Because I’ve been around, and I know the importance of being discreet,” Morris said.

“Well, you’re just being stupid. Say it plain, man.” Stan Gardiner’s anger was building.

“All right, here it is plain. If Lily Falconer had stayed closer to her husband and kid, there might not have been a suicide over there at Lawyers’ Bay. That Lily is like her mother – a fatal attraction. She can’t help the way men buzz around her, like bees around a flower. But two good men died because of Lily’s mother, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a case of history repeating itself here.”

My heart was pounding so loudly, I was certain the gents at the next table could hear it, but they had sunk back into meditation. Willie, however, picked up my tension. He strained at the leash. “Stay,” I hissed. He looked at me reproachfully, but he stopped pulling. Ears pricked, I listened for the next revelation.

Morris took out a cigarette and offered the pack around. There were no takers. He lit his smoke and sat back. “I owe you an apology, Stan,” he said.

“You owe me more than one apology,” Stan said crankily.

“Don’t push your luck,” Morris said. “You’re no saint. All the same, I was out of line criticizing your viewing habits. I like Lawrence Welk myself. As for that champagne lady – Alice what’s her name – well, she could park her dancing slippers under my bed any time she liked.” He laughed his dry, wheezing laugh. “Come on, Endzone,” he said. “We’ve done enough damage here. Time to head back to the house.”

Overwhelmed by the enormity of what I’d heard, I watched man and dog make their dusty progress down the road. Morris’s words had been plain enough, but I couldn’t seem to take them in. I was so engrossed in puzzling out what he’d said that I didn’t notice that Leah was standing beside me until she tapped my arm.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself,” I said. “Talk about bad timing. You just missed Endzone, the wonder dog.”

“I’ve caught his act. That dog will do anything for processed meat.” Her smile was pained. “I’m glad you’re back, Jo. I’m guessing someone’s already told you about the break-in.”

“Noah was putting a new lock on the door when Taylor and I got back from the city,” I said. “He filled me in.”

“I feel so awful. Angus does too. But we did lock the door. The lock was just so old – whoever broke in didn’t have any trouble forcing it. Was anything else besides the laptop missing?”

“No,” I said.

“Weird,” she said. “Because that laptop of yours – no offence – but it wasn’t worth risking a jail term over. And the place was neat as a pin. We weren’t gone long, thirty minutes, tops. Angus says whoever did the job must have been watching the cottage.” Leah pushed her chair back. “I’d better get back to work. The store is humming today.”

I walked back to the cottage, mulling over the information that had come my way during the last thirty minutes. Despite the gathering heat of the day, I felt a chill. Angus’s theory that the laptop thief had been watching our cottage wasn’t the most menacing intelligence I’d received, but it was the one most directly connected to my life. For the first time since I’d arrived at Lawyers’ Bay, I was apprehensive as I opened my front door. Before I settled in, I went through the house to make sure everything was in order. I was glad Willie was with me. He was a toothless lion, but a stranger wouldn’t know that.

I satisfied myself that all was in order, then changed into my bathing suit and picked up my book and a beach towel. I needed the warmth of the sun on my back and I needed not to be alone. But before I could allow myself the luxury of the beach, there were two telephone calls I had to make.

The first was straightforward. Anne Millar deserved a report on my meeting with Holly Knott. I found Anne’s business card in my wallet, picked up my cell, and dialled. Anne was in a meeting. Her administrative assistant suggested I leave a message on her voice mail and I did. My message was brief. I said that Holly Knott believed that Clare might have kept in touch with the members of her Moot Team and that Holly had e-mailed the head administrator at the College of Law giving her the go-ahead to release the women’s contact information to me.

The second phone call was not so easy. My hands were shaking as I dialled Alex’s number at the police station. When I learned that he wasn’t on duty, I was relieved, but I knew I couldn’t let myself off that easily. I dialled his apartment number, and as I listened to the phone ring, I imagined the familiar room with its clean, uncluttered lines and collections of Mozart. There was no answer. As I dialled Alex’s cell, my face was flushed. I was certain he would pick up, but he didn’t. I rang off without leaving a message – glad that I didn’t have to ask questions with answers I didn’t want to hear. But I was already asking myself a question. Lily Falconer had taken off. Was it possible that she hadn’t taken off alone, that like her mother before her Lily had exerted a pull on the men in her life that she couldn’t control, and that Alex had succumbed to what Morris, the man who had been around, termed her fatal attraction?