12 Rose Street (26 page)

Zack had half an hour till his next meeting so I spirited him off to the Noodle House to rev up the troops while I made yet another to-do list. As always there was music in our campaign headquarters. Zack knew many things, but he never had children growing up in the 1980s and 1990s. When he was greeted by a searing guitar solo, he frowned. “Can people actually think in here with all that noise?”

“That’s not ‘noise.’ That’s ‘Today’ by The Smashing Pumpkins,” I said. “A seminal song.”

“You know all that?”

“Milo knows all that. He was the one who figured out that a constant menu of classic rock would bring people into campaign headquarters. He was also the one who was smart enough to suggest that we call our headquarters ‘the Noodle House’ because it sounds cool.”

Zack was thoughtful. “You’re very fond of Milo, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I said. “I like people who commit to what they do. That’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

Zack wheeled over, put his arm around my legs, and squeezed. “That goes both ways, Jo. You’re doing a helluva job with this campaign. Moving the press conference to Rose Street was a good call.”

“The jury’s still out on that,” I said. “Incidentally, Jill asked me to tell you she’s committed to this story and she’s not going to quit until she knows the truth.”

“That was the response I was hoping for,” Zack said. “The more people who know about this, the less vulnerable we are.” His cell beeped a reminder. “Time to head out. I’ll just say a quick hello to everybody.”

When I got back to my place by the door, my cell rang. I picked up. The urgent, imploring tone of the caller’s voice was immediately recognizable. “Joanne, it’s Liz Meighen. Are you free to talk?”

“Yes,” I said. I walked outside. It was chilly, but the sun was warm and I was very eager to hear from Liz.

“I know I should have been in touch sooner. I should have called to explain why I didn’t come that morning.” Her voice faltered. “Suddenly my life is full of ‘should haves.’ ”

“As long as you’re all right.”

“I’m not really,” she said slowly. “I’m on a new medication and it’s making me confused – but I think I already told you that – the night I forgot to put the white chocolate in the pots de crème.”

“And the dessert turned out brilliantly. Liz, we’re all getting older. These things happen.”

“Not the kind of things that happen to me. One day – I’m not sure exactly which day it was – I drove to the drugstore. It was the same drugstore we’ve been going to for thirty years. It’s six blocks from my house and I couldn’t remember how to get home.”

“Have you talked to your doctor?”

“I don’t know where he is,” she said.

“Are you at home now?”

“No. I’m in a safe place. When everything started spinning out of control, I knew I had to get away.”

“Where are you?”

“It’s better for you not to know. That way Graham can’t put pressure on you. He can’t be trusted, Joanne. I don’t know who to trust any more. I thought my psychiatrist was on my side. He’s always been supportive, but lately I’ve had the feeling he was undermining me. Working against me. Does that sound crazy? This new medication jumbles my thoughts.”

“What you said doesn’t sound crazy,” I said. “Do you have any idea why your psychiatrist would decide to work against you?”

“Yes. The morning I was supposed to see you, I discovered that Dr. Goetz is one of them.”

My veins tightened. “The psychiatrist you’re seeing is Michael Goetz?”

“Do you know him?”

“We met briefly. Liz, when you said Dr. Goetz was ‘one of them,’ what did you mean?”

Suddenly, she was angry. “You don’t believe me,” she said.

“I do,” I said quickly. “I just didn’t understand what you meant.”

She said the words slowly as if she were explaining something that was self-evident. “Dr. Goetz was one of the men in Graham’s group. The morning I was supposed to see you, I overheard Graham talking to him on the phone. Graham was very angry. Of course, I couldn’t hear Dr. Goetz’s side of the conversation, but Graham wouldn’t listen to him. He just kept shouting, ‘You’ve got to do it. There’s no other way.’ Joanne, I know Graham is trying to convince Dr. Goetz to get me committed so he can get power of attorney and take over my money.”

“Liz, I’m your friend, and I know what you’ve been going through, but for your own sake you have to be careful not to jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions. Graham’s having financial difficulties. The night before I was supposed to meet you, he asked me for money and I turned him down. When I overheard him talking to Michael Goetz, I was sure I knew exactly what was happening. I confronted Graham. He said he’d been trying to convince Dr. Goetz to change my medication because the medication I was on was scrambling my mind and he was afraid I’d say something – something – something – I can’t remember the word. It’s a word I used to know, but I can’t remember it any more.” There was an edge of hysteria in her voice. “I’ve always been able to remember words. I’m losing my words, Joanne. I’m losing myself.”

“Liz, you need help. Is there someone there I can talk to?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m not sure if there’s anyone I can trust here.”

“You told me you were in a safe place.”

“I thought I was, but now …” Her voice rose till it was almost a shout. “Don’t trust anybody. Do you hear what I’m saying, Joanne? Do not trust anybody.” Liz had trouble hanging up the phone. It sounded as if she’d dropped it. There was background noise – another voice – someone offering to help. Then, finally the phone was back in its cradle and there was silence.

I tried *69 to check the number of the last call I’d received, but it was blocked. I left a message at the Meighen house asking Graham to call me. Then I called Michael Goetz’s office. His nurse said he was in a therapy session. I told her I had concerns about one of Dr. Goetz’s patients, and I left my name and number. I was not optimistic that either Graham Meighen or Michael Goetz would get back to me.

It had been a disquieting morning, and the prospect of being alone with my thoughts in an empty condo was not appealing. Besides, I had information about Michael Goetz that would interest Margot. When I got off the elevator in our building, I went straight to her place.

She beamed when she opened the door and saw me. “I was just thinking about you,” she said. “The press conference went well, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said. “Did you notice that Slater and Michael beat a hasty retreat?”

Margot nodded. “I wondered about that,” she said. “Come on in. Lexi’s down for a nap. Stay and have lunch with me. Jasmina made cabbage soup and I have some very nice rye bread.”

“Do you happen to have some very nice rye whisky to go with it?”

Margot raised an eyebrow. “I take it that the morning took a nose-dive after the press conference. Lucky for you Leland
always made sure we had a bottle of Crown Royal in the house. I’ve been pregnant or nursing forever, so it’s all yours.”

Margot put the soup on to warm; I made myself a drink, and we sat down at the kitchen table.

“About twenty minutes ago, I had a call from Liz Meighen,” I said.

“Graham’s wife? What’s up with her?”

“I wish I knew. She wouldn’t tell me where she was. To be honest, I’m not certain she knew that herself. She’s been pretty unstable for a while now.”

“I remember hearing that she and Graham lost their daughter last year.”

“And the loss was devastating, but Liz seemed to be getting better. Then, out of nowhere, she started falling apart.”

“Grief has no timetable,” Margot said. “I’ve been learning that myself.”

I reached across the table and touched Margot’s hand. “I know how difficult it’s been for you since Leland died. But I think the root of Liz’s problems may be more sinister than grief.”

Margot frowned. “That sounds ominous.”

“If what Liz Meighen told me is true, she’s being victimized. But I honestly don’t know if I can trust what she says.” I sipped my drink and felt the warmth spread through my veins. “Margot, do you know anything about Graham’s current financial status?”

“Nothing definite, but there’s been a fair amount of buzz about the subject lately. Apparently, Graham is suddenly afflicted with the reverse Midas touch. Everything he touches turns to ashes. He’s made some lousy decisions, and rumour has it that he’s gambling.”

“That would lend credence to what Liz told me on the phone. She believes Graham and her psychiatrist are conspiring to have her declared
non compos mentis.”

“So Graham can get at her money?”

“Presumably,” I said. “Now take a wild guess at the identity of Liz’s psychiatrist.”

Margot’s eyes widened. “Michael Goetz. Wow. If Michael
is
conspiring with Graham Meighen to get Liz’s money, he’s in deep doo-doo – legally, and with the College of Physicians and Surgeons.”

“That might explain why Michael was so eager to distance himself from Brock.”

“You think he’s protecting Brock?”

“I don’t know. Margot, I don’t even know if what Liz told me is true. Given what you said about Graham’s financial problems, it makes sense, but when Liz talked about Michael Goetz being ‘one of them,’ she did sound delusional. And her reaction when she thought I didn’t believe her was erratic. She was furious and then she just seemed to lapse into despair.”

“So are you going to the police with this?”

“I don’t know. We can’t ignore the fact that Michael Goetz is married to Slater Doyle and Slater works for Graham. But if we’re wrong and Liz is having some sort of psychotic episode, a false charge could derail Michael’s life. He’s not my favourite person, but Brock is a good man, and he loves Michael. I don’t think we can take a chance.”

“So we shouldn’t tell Brock.”

“We have to tread lightly. There’s been enough damage, and there’s more to come. Liz left town on Saturday and Sunday night, Zack and I saw Graham and Jill having what had all the earmarks of a romantic dinner.”

Margot raised an eyebrow. “Did somebody forget to tell Graham he’s married?”

“That doesn’t seem to be an issue,” I said. “Of course, it never was for Jill either. Zack said he told you about Jill’s affair with Ian.”

“He did,” Margot said. “I was waiting for you to bring up the subject. I’m sorry, Jo. I really am. You deserved better.”

“Ultimately, I got the best,” I said. “And Jill is getting involved with another man who will just be using her. Zack says Graham’s a sociopath.”

“That’s interesting. More than once, Leland told me Graham was a man without a conscience.” She cocked her head. “So are you going to warn Jill about the new man in her life?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m certain Graham’s sudden interest in Jill stems from the fact that he needs money.”

“I didn’t realize there was big money in journalism,” Margot said.

“There isn’t,” I said. “A few years back, Jill was married. The marriage didn’t last long, but when her husband died, Jill inherited a very healthy investment portfolio.”

“Money is a powerful aphrodisiac,” Margot said. She stretched lazily. “Soup’s ready. Do you want a refill for that drink?”

“No, that hit the spot, but I trust Jasmina’s cabbage soup to do the rest.”

I always enjoyed Margot’s company and the food was comforting. As I was leaving Lexi awakened, so I managed to work in a snuggle and a gummy grin. My hour at Margot’s had been a happy one, but my concern about Liz nagged at me, and despite everything, I was worried about Jill. By the time I walked across the hall to our condo, I’d decided to call her.

When I picked up the phone, my nerve failed, so I took the coward’s way out and sent Jill a text. “Disturbing rumours about Graham Meighen. Don’t get involved with him.” I hadn’t expected to hear from Jill, and by six o’clock when she hadn’t acknowledged receipt of the text, I assumed her silence was my answer.

Howard Dowhanuik buzzed from our lobby early Thursday morning. It was chilly, and when Howard arrived on the doorstep his cheeks were still rosy. Howard was a political animal, and the campaign had reinvigorated him. He was wearing a black cable-knit crewneck sweater and the red toque with a pom-pom that one of his daughters had knit for him. “You look like an ad for one of those enriched living retirement homes,” I said.

“Still sassy after all these years,” Howard said. “How about a cup of coffee? It’s cold out there.”

I poured Howard’s coffee and we sat together at the butcher-block table. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “I heard some disturbing news about Graham Meighen yesterday, and I sent Jill a text warning her about him. Since the last time I encountered her, I told her that I wanted her out of our lives, I understand why she’s ignoring the messenger, but I need to make certain she’s paying attention to the message. Could you talk to her?”

Howard’s head-shake was vehement. “She wouldn’t listen to me, but, Jo, she would listen to you.” Howard’s gaze could
still pierce. “If Jill thought you cared enough about her to deliver the message in person, she’d take it seriously.”

“It’s not happening, Howard.”

He sipped his coffee. His eyes hadn’t left my face. “Why not? Jill’s staying at the Hotel Saskatchewan, Suite 806. Just knock on her door and tell her. You don’t even have to go inside.”

“Howard, these days, I don’t like the person I become when I’m around Jill.”

“Then don’t be that person,” Howard said. “I won’t minimize what Jill and Ian did, but you and the kids survived. You have a future. Ian’s dead and Jill wishes she was dead. She called me last night. She knows you’ll never forgive her, but she’s hoping that if she gets the inside story on Graham Meighen’s role in the Ridgeway campaign she can help Zack get elected.”

“And in the process she’ll get a story that will be a poke in the eye to the young turks at Nation
TV
. Howard, Jill is not involving herself with Graham Meighen so she can get Zack elected. She’s after a story, and she’s prepared to do what it takes to get what she wants.”

“But you think she’ll get more than she bargained for with Graham Meighen.”