The Nesting Dolls

CHAPTER 10

After I’d found my old friend Helen Freedman’s handwritten recipe for “Harvey Calls It ‘Jewish Penicillin’ Chicken Soup” I made a list of the ingredients I’d need and called Mieka.

“How’s everyone in your kingdom this morning?” I said.

“The girls are bouncing off the walls. I’m doing as well as can be expected this close to Christmas. How about you?”

“Zack has the flu.”

“Bad?”

“Bad enough for me to call Henry Chan. He says to keep an eye on it.”

“Anything I can do?”

“I’m in a soup-making mood,” I said. “If you could pick up a stewing chicken and whatever vegetables look good and drop them by before you go to work, I’d be grateful.”

“Done,” she said. “You don’t have to take the girls skate shopping after school, you know.”

“I’d forgotten all about it,” I said. “Age.”

“You’ve had a few things on your mind,” Mieka said.

“Thanks, but the girls have been talking about getting their new skates for a week. More significantly, the skates are from Pete and Angus, and they’ve already given me the money.”

Mieka chortled. “Shrewd move to get Angus to pony up ahead of time. He still owes me for ten years of Mother’s Day presents.”

“Slip him the bill when he graduates. Anyway, let me talk to Zack about the skate shopping. My guess is that he won’t be happy if he thinks the ladies missed out on something because of him. Besides, Taylor will be home from school by the time I have to leave. We can work it out.”

I opened my appointment calendar by the kitchen phone. Sure enough, the girls were pencilled in for skate shopping at three-thirty. There was a luncheon at the university that had also slipped my mind, and Zack and I had a client’s party at five and another, in the same hotel, at six. I called the university and the clients’ offices and left regrets. I glanced at the rest of the week, and slumped. Each day seemed black with commitments. Too much. Then I thought of Theo Brokaw thanking me for visiting because “not many do” and felt a pang for complaining about the abundance of my life.

As penance, I got out the lemon oil and began to polish the sideboard above which we’d hung the pomegranate wreath Myra had crafted. Polishing was the kind of job I enjoyed – mindless and instantly gratifying. I’d just finished when Nadine Perrault called.

Her voice was strong and calm. “Alwyn and I had coffee today and she suggested I get in touch with you. She said you’d be pleased to know that I’m continuing to make progress.”

“That is good news,” I said.

“For me, too,” she said, and with an openness that I found appealing. “For weeks now I’ve felt as if I was sitting in front of a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were scattered all around me. I knew if I put them together I’d see the truth. But I was so afraid of what the final picture would be that I couldn’t make myself pick up the pieces.”

“Now you’re not afraid.”

“No. Because I know that Abby loved me, and that makes all the difference. I’m going to find out what happened to her, Joanne. I’m coming to Regina. Obviously, the explanation for Abby’s actions is tied somehow to Delia Wainberg. I’ve hired a Regina lawyer. His name is Darryl Colby. Do you know him?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I’m sure Zack will. Do you want Zack to get in touch with him?”

“Not until Mr. Colby and I have had a chance to talk. I’ve asked him to hire an investigator. I have to learn what convinced Abby that she could no longer survive our life together. No matter how painful the answers.”

“Zack always says it’s better to know than not know.”

“The truth shall set me free?”

“Or at least make it easier for you to sleep nights,” I said.

Nadine’s laugh was shadowed with irony. “I’d settle for that.”

When I placed the cordless phone back in its charger, I thought about Nadine and, oddly, about Myra. It was difficult to imagine two more different women, but they were embarking on parallel journeys: Nadine, coming to a distant prairie city to discover why the partner she loved had turned into a stranger; Myra, moving to a city where she was a stranger, to mine her husband’s archives and recover the man she had revered for forty years. Seemingly, when it came to doling out hope and heartbreak, life was remarkably even-handed.

Zack was stirring when I went into our room to check on him. I sat on the bed beside him and felt his forehead.

“Well?” he said.

“Still warm.”

“How come you don’t use a thermometer?”

“I don’t need one,” I said. “Thermometers make you crazy. Touching works just as well, and it lets you feel things a thermometer can’t measure.”

“Such as?”

“Such as whether the patient is glad to have your hand on his forehead.”

“I’m glad,” Zack said. “I’d be glad if you just sat there all day.”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do except I promised Madeleine and Lena I’d take them skate shopping after school. Taylor will be home. Do you think you’d be okay for an hour?”

“Sure. The girls need skates and I never tire of Taylor’s updates on Declan.” Zack took my hand in his. “Anything happening in the big world?”

“Nadine Perrault called. She’s coming to Regina.”

“Not welcome news, but hardly surprising,” Zack said. “Should I gird my loins?”

“I don’t think so. Nadine’s pretty open about what she wants. Ultimately, she wants Jacob, but she told me today her immediate need is to find out what made Abby believe she could no longer survive the life she and Nadine shared.”

Zack winced. “That’s a phrase that will stick.”

“The phrase is Nadine’s,” I said. “And it will stay with me too. It’s hard to fathom what could make a woman as gifted and strong as Abby turn her back on everything that mattered to her. And if it’s hard for us to understand, can you imagine what it’s like for Nadine? Anyway, logically enough, she thinks the answers must be here, and she’s hired a Regina lawyer.”

“Who’d she get?”

“His name is Darryl Colby.”

Zack scowled. “Interesting choice.”

“Do I know him?”

Zack shifted his position and groaned. “You met him at the Bar Association Christmas party.”

“The one with the big booming bass who sang ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch’? He seemed like a lot of fun.”

“Don’t let that big booming bass disarm you, Ms. Shreve. Darryl is, in the immortal words of Dr. Seuss, as cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel.” He also appears to have misplaced his conscience somewhere along the line.” Zack pushed himself so he was lying on his side.

“Better?” I asked.

“Nope. I still feel like homemade shit.”

“Let me try something,” I fluffed up the extra pillows on the bed, brought them over to Zack’s side, and positioned them against his back. “How’s that?”

“Good,” he said.

I smoothed Zack’s covers. “Darryl Colby doesn’t seem like the kind of lawyer Nadine would choose.”

“Putz Llewellyn probably recommended him. Guys like that have a network. They slither out of the same eels’ nest.” Zack heaved a mighty sigh. “I’m through talking, Jo. I’m dead.” Within seconds, he was asleep.

I brought in the newspaper and sat in the chair by the window. It wasn’t long before Zack half-opened his eyes. “That wasn’t much of a nap,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

“Water?”

I poured some from the Thermos and helped him into a sitting position. Zack drank thirstily and then lay back on his pillow. “I was dreaming about eels,” he said.

“That’s because before you drifted off we were talking about Darryl Colby.”

“Shit. I was hoping that was just part of the dream.” Zack narrowed his eyes. “So Colby really is Nadine’s lawyer.”

“Yes, but you’re tough,” I said. “You can take him.”

“Darryl’s certainly waited long enough for a chance to take a shot at me.”

“You two have a history?”

Zack nodded. “Darryl worked for Murray Jeffreys.”

“The lawyer who died after he and Noah were fighting.”

“Yeah. Darryl came to my apartment the morning after Murray died. He’d been to the morgue and noticed that for a guy who’d died of a heart attack, Murray had a lot of bruises. I told him to shove off, but he pushed my chair out of the way and strong-armed his way in.”

“Was Delia still there?”

“Oh yeah, and wearing one of my T-shirts. Darryl asked Delia why she put out for everybody but Murray and him. At that point Noah showed up and threatened to kill Darryl. It was quite a morning.”

“And you think Darryl’s waited all these years to get even?”

Zack shrugged. “All I know is if I were advising Nadine, Darryl Colby is exactly the lawyer I would have suggested. He’s a junkyard dog. Even when he’s winning, he never misses a chance to snap at opposing counsel. People respect Delia. Most of the lawyers in town would have a tough time going full bore against her. Darryl will dig up the dirt, and lick his chops as he tears her reputation to shreds.” Zack rolled over. “God, I feel awful.”

“Too much talking,” I said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go up to the drugstore and pick up your prescriptions, and then we’ll get you into the shower and change your sheets. Okay?”

Zack just nodded and shut his eyes.

When I came back from the drugstore, Mieka was in the kitchen, unpacking groceries.

“You’re a wonder,” I said.

“Nope, just one of Lakeview Fine Foods’ best customers. I called ahead and they had everything ready.”

“Zack always says the more people you know the more people you know who can do something for you.”

Mieka made a face. “Cynical, but true. Is he doing any better?”

“Not yet,” I said. I held up the bag of medications. “I’m counting on these.”

“And on Helen Freedman’s chicken soup,” Mieka said.

“That soup’s been our standby since you were in kindergarten,” I said. “And this time I’m really counting on it because life is not getting simpler.” I took off my jacket. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee? I should get Zack started on his pills. But if you have a moment, I’d like to talk.”

Mieka glanced at her watch. “I’m already over-caffeinated, but I’m okay for time.”

I had to wake Zack up to take his pills. “Nurse Ratched here,” I said. “Do you want this medication orally or should we arrange another way?”

Zack pushed himself to a semi-sitting position. “I never figured you for a mean woman,” he muttered.

I kissed his shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said I would rather it was me going through this than you?”

“Hell, yes. I’d rather it was you, too.” He gave me a weak smile. “You do realize that was a joke, don’t you?”

“It better have been,” I said. “I’m the one who controls the drugs.”

When I got back to the kitchen, Mieka was washing the stewing chicken.

“Bucking for sainthood?”

“No, just for someone to babysit the girls New Year’s Eve.”

“Won’t you be at the lake with us New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes, and I was hoping I could bring a date.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yes, but it may fall through, so don’t get your hopes up,” Mieka said. “Anyway, just in case, could the girls stay with you and Zack New Year’s Eve?”

“Absolutely. An excuse for me to have my perfect New Year’s Eve. Everyone in bed by nine o’clock.”

Mieka smiled. “Same old Mum.”

“Same old Mum,” I said.

Mieka opened the knife drawer, took out my heavy-duty knife, and waved it in the air. “Do you want to do the honours or shall I?”

“I’ll do it,” I said. I took out the cutting board and set to work.

“Okay, so what’s going on?”

“Abby’s partner, Nadine Perrault, called this morning. She’s coming to Regina.”

“So, this is bad news?”

“It’s going to make life more complicated for Zack,” I said.

“If Zack weren’t involved, where would you think Jacob should be?”

“I don’t know. Nadine would be a very good parent. She’s warm and thoughtful. She doesn’t put herself first, and she’s capable of great love. But Abby Michaels wanted Jacob to be with Delia and she must have had her reasons. Certainly Delia’s legal position seems solid.”

“Why ‘seems’ rather than ‘is’?”

The leg came free and I severed the thigh from the drumstick. “Zack’s uneasy about this case,” I said, “I guess it’s rubbing off on me.”

“So what’s going to happen?”

“I think Jacob will end up with the Wainbergs. It’s not going to be a fairy-tale ending, but if life unfolds as it should, it’s possible that everyone involved will be reasonably content. Delia’s prepared to offer Nadine access, and if Nadine’s lawyer can prove that Abby’s decision was based on something other than concern about Nadine’s character, the access should be generous.” I began cutting the other leg free.

Mieka shook her head. “You didn’t spend much time with Nadine, Mum. She could have some skeletons rattling in her closet.”

“The priest at Nadine’s church in Port Hope didn’t think so. He told Nadine that everything Abby did at the end grew out of her love for Nadine and her desire to protect her.”

Mieka’s eyes widened. “Are priests in Port Hope allowed to divulge the secrets of the confessional?”

I cut the joint between the drumstick and the thigh. “Apparently this priest had a generous heart, and the moral decision with which he was faced was clear-cut. He saw a good person suffering needlessly, and he was able to help. He was lucky.”

“But you’re not?” Mieka asked.

“Zack is Delia’s lawyer, so I can hardly make overtures to Nadine.”

Mieka frowned. “I understand why Zack can’t, but I don’t see why you can’t do what you want to do.”

I began removing the wings. “You may have a point. I like Nadine, and she is going to be so alone. Given the circumstances, there’s no guarantee that Delia will even let her see Jacob. It might be perceived as a concession.”

“Where’s Noah in all this?”

“Where he always is – with his arms protectively around his wife.”

“That sounds a little bitchy.”

“When it comes to Delia, I’m a little sensitive these days. She has an amazing success rate as a litigator, but the men around her treat her as if she’d fall apart in a stiff breeze.”

I turned the bird onto its breast and began cutting along each side of the spine to remove the backbone.

“So does your ire extend to Zack?”

“I’m probably overreacting to the Ontario trip but, yes, it does. He treated Nadine badly and he risked his health because he felt he had to protect Delia.”

“Jealous?”

“Probably. There’s this primal thing among the partners at Falconer Shreve. It goes way back. No matter how brilliantly Delia performs as a lawyer, Zack still sees her as the girl he had to hold all night because, the year they were articling, she was at the centre of a fight.”

“And Delia felt responsible?”

“As Zack described it, it was more that she was in a state of shock. Anyway, there was no shortage of knights in armour prepared to defend her.”

“And Zack was among them,” Mieka said. “So, was there a romance?”

“I doubt it. Zack’s had a lot of women, but Zack’s and Delia’s feelings for one another go deep. I can’t see them risking their relationship for a one-night stand.” I removed the stewing hen’s backbone, cut through the breastplate to make two halves, and flourished my knife. “Done,” I said. “This chicken is ready for the pot.”

After Mieka left, I covered the chicken parts and gizzards with water, chopped onions, carrots, parsnips, and fresh thyme and added them to the pot, seasoned the broth, and turned on the heat. Chicken soup, the anodyne for all the ills of the world, was on its way.

Mieka and I had arranged that I would pick the girls up at school at three-thirty. The day ahead was clear. I took a biography I’d been waiting to read into the bedroom, sat by the window, and looked out at the day. It was bright, still, and cold enough to create sun dogs in the sky. I turned to the first page of my book. It opened in Tennessee. A young woman was driving through heat so blistering the plastic of her car seat was sticking to her legs. She was singing, “I’m Going to the Chapel and I’m Going to Get Married.”

My husband stirred. I moved my chair closer and continued to read. It was a quiet morning. I awakened Zack when it was time to give him pills and liquids. At intervals, I skimmed the soup. Mid-morning, a courier arrived with three large and unwieldy packages. When I ripped off the paper, I discovered that I’d signed for three copper pots filled with poinsettias in Zack’s favourite deep red. I brought the pots into our bedroom, placed them on a low table close to the window where he could see them, and went back to my book.

An hour before noon, I skimmed the soup and, following Helen Freedman’s recipe, made and refrigerated matzo balls. When Zack awakened, I was ready. I kissed him. “Welcome back,” I said.

Zack took my hand. “Always glad to be where you are, Ms. Shreve. So what’s going on?”

“Someone sent you flowers,” I said.

“Am I dead?”

“No, just worthy of spoiling.” I handed him the unopened card. He slipped on his reading glasses. “From Louise,” he said. “She sends her affection and apologies.”

“As well she might,” I said.

Zack gave me a sharp look. “I take it things didn’t go well with you two last night.”

“No. I was angry at what she was doing to Declan, and I was furious that she dragged you out of the house when you were sick to clean up the mess she’d made.”

Zack shrugged. “I agree with you about Declan. But Leland Hunter pays the firm a sizable sum to keep his family out of trouble, so I was just doing my job.”

“Has Leland ever considered doing that particular job himself?”

“Too busy earning money. Considering that Louise is his ex, he’s very responsible. Over the years, he’s paid a number of people to keep her from self-destructing. She used to have a kind of babysitter who went to restaurants with her and sat at the next table. The theory was the guy would keep Louise out of trouble, but half the time she gave him the slip. Finally, Leland realized that no matter how many people he hired to protect Louise, she’d always find a log with which to set herself on fire. Last spring when she was charged with DUI, she was weaving and driving so slowly that the cops ran her licence and were there waiting at her front door when she finally wended her way home.”

“Do you think she wants to get caught?”

“I’m not a shrink, but my theory is that Louise’s motivation is the same as Declan’s – she wants Leland to pay attention to her.”

“So Louise teaches her son that to get his father’s attention, he just has to break the law,” I said.

“You know I can’t answer that,” Zack said. “Anyway, aren’t you being a little hard on her?” He started to cough and he couldn’t seem to stop. I put my arm behind his back and pulled him upright. When the coughing finally ended I was scared and furious. I rested my forehead on his shoulder.

“To answer your question,” I said, “I don’t think I’m being too hard on Louise at all.”

Zack slept deeply for the next three hours. He was feverish, and even when I wiped his head with a cool cloth, he didn’t awaken. Concerned that he was becoming dehydrated, I took him a glass of ginger ale and roused him. He’d managed to drink half of it when the doorbell chimed. He made a gesture of dismissal and lay back on his pillow. “I’m good,” he said. “Better see who that is.”

The guest on the porch was Debbie Haczkewicz. Her cheeks were ruddy with health and cold, but her eyes were tired.

“I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d stop by to see how Zack’s doing,” she said.

“He’s been sleeping pretty much on and off all day,” I said. “But I can see if he’s awake.”

“It’s nothing important. Just telI him I came by.”

Debbie looked as weary as I felt. “Would you like to come in?” I said. “I’m dragging, and I was about to make myself coffee.”

“Dragging is my permanent state these days,” Debbie said. “Caffeine helps, and I’d appreciate a cup of something that didn’t taste like the floor sweepings we have at headquarters.”

Our kitchen caught the afternoon sun. It was a cheerful place in which to sit, and Debbie and I had our coffee there. “So how’s it going?” I said.

“Not well,” Debbie said. “It’s been nine days since Abby Michaels died, and all we have are questions. We know from the forensic pathology results that Abby Michaels didn’t fight her attacker. Usually in these cases the victim’s fingernails are a treasure trove for the M.E. – samples of the attacker’s hair, skin, and blood – but Abby’s nails were clean.”

“Is it possible that she was drugged with something like Rohypnol?”

Debbie sugared her coffee. “Nope, Toxicology’s still running tests, but so far no traces of any of the classic ‘date rape’ drugs, including alcohol. It seems that Abby didn’t perceive the man who killed her as a threat.”

“She was a stranger here. Whom would she trust that completely?”

“I have a theory,” Debbie said. “Abby Michaels had just given away her child. She was traumatized. She went to someone whom she believed would help her deal with what she’d done. I think she put herself in his hands. The element of surprise was on his side. The autopsy results suggest that the man strangled her, raped her, dragged her down at least one flight of stairs, then pulled her through the snow to her car and drove her to the parking lot behind A-1.”

I shuddered. “Do you ever get used to seeing that kind of viciousness?”

Debbie was measured. “No, but that degree of contempt for another human being is revealing. It suggests a psychosis, and nine times out of ten, that means we’re dealing with a habitual offender. If we’re lucky and can match the semen on the victim with semen in the vi-class data bank, we can start checking halfway houses and the location of inmates on mandatory release and sooner or later, we find our guy. But we’ve already established the semen found on Abby doesn’t match any in the vi-class data bank.”

The sun was pouring into our kitchen, but I felt a chill. “If he was able to take Abby by surprise, he must seem trustworthy,” I said.

“Or he’s in a profession that makes a woman feel it’s safe to let down her guard,” Debbie said tightly. “And, of course, that’s why he poses such a threat to his potential victims and to the police force. There’s a deadly mix here: We have a disarming psychotic, and we have a public desperate for action because Abby was educated, middle-class, and not known to indulge in risky behaviour.”

“People identify with her,” I said.

“And they feel vulnerable,” Debbie said. “Abby could be their sister, their girlfriend, their wife, or their daughter. People are scared.”

“And that puts pressure on you,” I said.

“You bet it does,” Debbie said. “Nobody likes to admit it, but when we get the call that a body’s been found, there’s an adrenalin rush. All the possibilities are open. We choose the members of the lead investigative team, let them know they’re up to bat and meet them at the crime scene. By the time I get there, the uniforms are already ricocheting, bagging evidence, taking photographs, taking notes, making guesses. Everybody’s charged up. But that’s Day One. As the days go by and nothing pans out, the adrenalin seeps away. We all start getting antsy, and that’s a dangerous time in an investigation because this is when we start getting seduced by false clues. It’s as if we’re all standing in the dark – waiting for a sound or a flash of light. When there’s been nothing but silence, and one of us hears the snap of the twig, there’s always the danger that we’ll overreact – give that twig far more attention than it merits. That’s where we are now, Joanne, and it’s not a good place to be.”

We walked to the front hall together. When Debbie was dressed to leave, she turned to me. “If there’s anything I can do… ”

“You’re doing it,” I said. “Arresting the man who killed Abby will bring Delia a measure of peace. Take my word for it – that will make Zack’s job easier.”

Debbie pulled on her gloves. “I hope so. Zack’s a fine man. I wouldn’t have Leo today if it hadn’t been for him.”

“Was it that bad for Leo?”

“My son tried to kill himself,” Debbie said. “In my estimation, that’s as bad as it gets. All his life people had admired Leo; suddenly, they pitied him. I’ll never forget the deadness in his eyes the day he was told he’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

I thought of Abby. “Leo didn’t see how he could survive his new life,” I said.

“That’s right,” Debbie said. “But luckily, he had Zack.”

In one of life’s small cosmic jokes, Madeleine and Lena had found the skates they dreamed of, but the skates Madeleine coveted were available only in Lena’s size, and the only pair left in the style for which Lena longed was in Madeleine’s size. They accepted their fates with uncharacteristic equanimity. Christmas was growing closer, and our granddaughters were fervent believers in Santa’s list.

We left the store with time enough to take the new skates to be sharpened by Eddy, the wizened gnome who had sharpened our family’s skates since my children were little.

Eddy’s tiny business, in the basement of a store that had once sold tobacco products but now sold vintage comic books, had been there for as long as I could remember, but this was the girls’ first trip. They had been chatting nonstop since I picked them up at school, but as we walked to the back of the comic book store and stood on the threshold of the steps that led to the basement, they fell silent.

The steps were steep and poorly lit; the air from below was dank and smelled of tobacco. When the girls and I started down the steps, we were met by an odd and unsettling whirring sound that caused both girls to grab my coat from behind. We were, indeed, descending into the heart of darkness.

In every essential way, Eddy and his business were much the same as they had been when I met him thirty years before. I had never seen him without a cigarette. There was always a pack of Player’s Plain in the pocket of his muscle shirt, and there was always a lit cigarette in his mouth. His skin was the colour of a cured tobacco leaf and his arms, now stringy with age, were heavily tattooed with images of anchors and calls to patriotism. Yellowing pictures of busty bathing beauties with come-hither smiles and upswept hair blanketed the shop’s ceiling. Periodically, Eddy would tilt back his head, peer through the smoke from his cigarette, and wink at them.

Madeleine and Lena were mesmerized as Eddy went into action, clamping each skate so that the blade touched the grinding wheel, setting the wheel in motion, whirring away just long enough, taking the honing stone to the sharpened blade to remove the burr. Eddy never spoke a word until he was through and he muttered a price. I paid. He pocketed the cash and we left the stygian depths.

We were on the street before either of the girls spoke again. “That was weird,” Madeleine said.

“But not too weird,” Lena chirped. “Just weird enough.” She looked across the road at the skating rink on Scarth Street Mall. The sun was out; the sky was blue. The sun dogs had disappeared. The day was warm enough to try out new skates. “Could we have just a little skate, Mimi?”

“Let me call your granddad and see how he’s feeling,” I said.

I dialled Zack’s cell. He picked up on the first ring. He sounded terrible.

“How are you doing?” I said.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“Is Taylor taking good care of you?”

“She was with me until a few minutes ago. She hovers, so I sent her packing.”

“Are you feeling worse?”

“I’m fine. Did you get the skates?”

“We did and we had them sharpened. The temperature is reasonable, and we’re standing here looking at the Scarth Street Mall rink. The girls are eager to try out their new skates. Would you be okay for another forty-five minutes?”

“Sure. Hey, take some pictures with your BlackBerry and send them to me.”

“I’m not sure I remember how.”

“Maddy can give you a hand.”

“Stay tuned,” I said.

Regina is a city with a population of 200,000, but over the years, I’ve displayed an uncanny knack for running into the one person whom I least wish to see. The girls were laced up and slip-sliding their way around the ice when Theo and Myra Brokaw approached and sat on the bench next to me. They were dressed for a winter walk: Sorel boots, stylish grey down jackets, and the red scarves they’d been wearing the night of the Wainbergs’ party.

“How nice that you’ve found the time for an outing,” Myra said.

“I promised our granddaughters I’d take them skate shopping,” I said.

“And a promise is a promise,” Myra said. The edge in her voice was unmistakable.

“That’s Madeleine in the green jacket and Lena’s the one in purple,” I said, pointing them out.

Theo shook his head. “Daughters.” As the girls moved around the rink, Theo’s eyes followed them. “Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide,” he said softly.

I looked at Theo Brokaw. He was still a handsome and virile man. Age had not blurred the classic lines of his profile; his skin was taut, and even in repose his body had the coiled-spring energy of a man who found pleasure in physical exercise. When Delia clerked for him, he would have been in his late forties. Attractive, learned, and revered by his colleagues, Theo Brokaw was exactly the kind of man to whom a young woman who lived for the law would have been drawn.

The possibility that Theo had fathered Delia’s child had been at the edge of my consciousness from the morning Delia sat in our kitchen and told us about the baby she had given up for adoption. As Zack noted, nothing in Delia’s history or character suggested that her romantic life would be conducted so casually that she would be unable to identify the father of her child. Logic pointed to a serious love affair. So did the spark that flew between Theo and Delia when she greeted him at the door the day of the party. There had been nothing tentative or confused about Theo’s embrace; he had clung to Delia with the passion of a lover.

It occurred to me that the tapes Myra had mentioned might offer a glimpse into Theo and Delia’s relationship that year in Ottawa. I turned to Myra. “This morning you mentioned that you had footage of Theo talking to his students. That might be good television.”

Myra arched an eyebrow. “It would be good television,” she said. “That’s why I’ve already couriered the DVDS to your home.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Myra, I admire your determination. I wasn’t trying to brush you off when you phoned. Zack is ill, but he was adamant about not disappointing the girls.”

“I understand,” she said. There was sly amusement in her smile. “I understand a great deal, Joanne. I am not a stupid woman.”

When I got home, Willie greeted me at the door, his stump of a tail moving like a metronome marking the beats of his joy. The package from Myra Brokaw was on the hall table.

I unzipped my boots, hung up my coat, and went to my husband. There was a half-glass of ginger ale on the table beside him and Taylor’s practice bells from Luther were on the nightstand within easy ringing distance. Louise’s three poinsettias had been joined by six more – all large and all red. I kissed Zack’s forehead. “So what’s with all the flowers?”

“Taylor brought them in. The cards are there by the bells.”

“I take it the bells are for summoning your nurse.”

“That’s right. I told you she hovered.”

“She loves you,” I said. “I love you.” I gestured towards the poinsettias. “Everybody loves you.”

“What the hell are we going to do with all those, anyway?”

“Save money. I was going to buy a poinsettia for Mieka, one for Pete’s clinic, and one to put in Angus’s room to welcome him home. Now I don’t have to. You can spend the money we save on your heart’s desire.”

“You’re my heart’s desire,” he said. “Did we save enough to buy you a Birkin bag?”

“I don’t need a Birkin bag.”

“Damn,” he said. “In that case, let’s just talk. Tell me about your afternoon. The pictures were very good, by the way.”

“Maddy and Lena took them,” I said.

“I kind of figured that when there weren’t any pictures of the two of them together.”

“The girls and I missed you,” I said. “You’re our team photographer, but you’ll have plenty of chances. It isn’t even officially winter yet. Besides, Maddy and Lena had an audience. Theo and Myra Brokaw were down at the rink, watching the skaters.”

Zack frowned. “No one had a better legal mind than Theo Brokaw. It’s sad to think of him spending his day watching other people’s kids go round and round and round.”

“Myra told me Theo used to take his law students down to the Rideau Canal in the winter to skate.”

Zack chuckled. “And so he could deliver his famous push-glide-push-glide speech – Delia told me about it. Then, of course, I heard about it from other lawyers who’d clerked for Theo.”

“What’s the speech?”

“It’s just a little gem Theo used to trot out for one of his ‘teachable moments,’ ” Zack said. “Theo explained that the law is like skating. Push-glide-push-glide. Argue – allow the argument to sink in – argue – allow the argument to sink in. If Theo had been hosting your show about the Court that kind of crap would have been pure gold.”

“Actually, I did ask Myra to send over some of her home movies. But she beat me to the punch. The DVDS are already on the table in the front hall.”

“You’re not still thinking of using Theo in that special, are you?” Zack’s voice, already raspy, was a growl. “Because you can cut and paste all you want, but all the king’s horses and all the king’s men aren’t going to put Mr. Justice Brokaw together again.”

“I know that,” I said. “My interest in the tapes isn’t professional. I thought that with Nadine coming to Regina, it might be useful to narrow down the possibilities about the identity of Abby’s father.”

Zack gave me a sharp look. “So you think it’s Theo, too?”

“It’s logical,” I said. “The way Theo behaved when he saw Delia at the Wainbergs’ party was telling. These days, there must be a great deal that doesn’t make sense to Theo, but Delia’s perfume seemed to be a link to an old safe world when he was young.”

“And a force to be reckoned with.” Zack exhaled slowly. “Life really can be a bitch, can’t it?”

I kissed his hand. “I guess that’s why, all those years ago, Helen Freedman gave me the recipe for ‘Harvey Calls It “Jewish Penicillin” Chicken Soup.’ Think you’ll be able to handle a bowlful?”

“Bring it on. I’m going to call Delia and ask her to come over tonight.”

“Are we going to look at Myra’s home movies?”

“Depends, but the very fact that they exist presents us with one of Theo’s ‘teachable moments.’ A DVD of her skating days might remind Dee about the importance of full disclosure.”

“She’s kept that part of her life closed off for many years. You really think some old home movies will do the trick?”

Zack shrugged. “Who knows? But I’m tired of screwing around. I’m going to tell Dee that unless she opens up, I’m off the case. Until she tells me the truth, my hands are tied. And for a paraplegic, that’s no option at all.”