The Icing on the Corpse (8 page)

Elaine cornered me in the kitchen where I was engaged in breaking up the pizza boxes and hunting for the recycling container. I needed to keep busy to stay awake. Despite the coffee and the large amount of pizza I had wolfed, I was feeling groggy.

“Having a little trouble understanding Lindsay's situation?” Elaine said.

“Why do you ask?”

I don't know. Your expression maybe. Don't be too superior in this area, Camilla. It's easy for this to happen to any woman.”

“I know.”

“I don't think you do. You think it couldn't happen to you.”

She was right, but damned if I wanted to admit it. “You're forgetting I run an agency for victims, Elaine.”

“Not for a minute, Camilla. But you might ask yourself who you are to judge whether a person is a victim or not.”

I was worried about Mrs. Parnell's cat. Mrs. Parnell was worried about Lester and Pierre. Elaine was worried about potential disaster for the ice sculpture contest. Merv and Alvin were worried the other one would get in some extra shoulder pats. These were nice distractions from the real worry.

Every creak in the building had us all on full alert. At thirty below, the ceiling joists can make some startling sounds. We had been leaping out of our chairs regularly, then looking around, feeling silly. When Conn McCracken's call came in at eleven fifteen, I felt a flood of relief. I wasn't alone. All eyes were on the phone. We needed to hear the word that Benning was secured and Lindsay was safe.

“So,” I said, “is it over?”

“Bad news, Camilla. The son of a bitch got away.”

They were all looking at me when I hung up.

“Lord thundering Jesus, Camilla, you're dead white,” Alvin said.

“My dear Ms. MacPhee, you certainly are.”

Merv looked up. “I've seen flour with better colour than that.”

“What's wrong?” Elaine asked.

Lindsay buried her head in her hands.

Okay, looking at the team guarding Lindsay, I would be the first to admit the whole thing was like a bad sitcom. Cast of quirky characters in high-tension situation unlikely to occur in real life. Half an hour of snappy dialogue and rigged up conflicts and then a nice neat resolution. Canned laughter and then cut to commercial. Then nothing to do but wait for next week's show.

Except that in real life a little sitcom goes a long way. And no one was laughing.

With the threat to Lindsay, it's hard to believe we were all dozy. I smothered a yawn. So did Elaine. Alvin didn't even bother smothering his. Merv let out a little snore. Mrs. Parnell's head jerked a tad. Lindsay was horizontal on the sofa, unmoving. The arm of the cream tunic sweater peeked from under the blanket Merv had placed gently over her.

“Okay, listen up,” I said. “We can't let down our guard. That means staying awake.”

“As a rule,” Mrs. Parnell said, “you take turns keeping watch.” Merv and Alvin turned their attention to her. “Since we are five,” she continued, “let us have two keep watch, and three sleep. Four hour shifts work best. Then three will be fresh at about three in the morning, when, if I were Benning, I'd be making my entrance.”

“Right.” Exactly what he would do. But where did she get this stuff?

“So,” I added, “who gets the first sleep shift?”

Of course, Lindsay was actually already asleep, her cashmere arm covering her face. That's tranks for you.

“You go first,” Merv said, without taking his eyes off Lindsay. “I don't need to sleep. That way there will be three of us at all times.

“I don't actually sleep either,” Mrs. Parnell said. “Never close an eye in the average night.”

“Me neither,” Alvin said.

Elaine crossed her arms. “I certainly don't want to miss anything. I skipped the ice sculpture competition for this. I don't intend to snooze through it.”

“Fine,” I said, “we'll all stay awake all night, the whole bunch of us. No one closes an eye.”

That's the last thing I remembered.

I
opened my eyes to see something black, vile and smelly It took a while to recognize Alvin's sock, still containing Alvin's foot. How many times had I heard Alvin say kiss my foot? But I'd never thought it would happen. I pushed the sock away. It banged, vigorously. Leave it to Alvin.

But the noise came from somewhere else. Oh, the front door. Strange. Not my front door. Where was I? And why was I anywhere with Alvin's foot? It took a minute to recognize Lindsay's place.

Lindsay's place, where I had apparently chosen to bunk down on the gleaming maple floor for a long winter's nap. Every bone in my body complained as I stumbled to my feet. To make matters worse, Alvin continued to snore. No wait, that wasn't Alvin. Merv, his face mashed up against the leg of the sofa, issued a thunderous
largo
roar. In a pleasant counterpoint, Elaine emitted high-pitched flutelike trills. She lay with her head under the end table.

The banging continued. My heart thundered. Who was at the door? Would Benning have the nerve to knock? No way. He'd never make it past the cops. It must be the cops checking up on us. Bang. Bang.

“Coming,” I bellowed.

You'd have thought it would be loud enough to wake the others.

Not so. Even Mrs. Violet “I never close an eye” Parnell continued to snooze intently, bent over in her chair at a forty-five degree angle, her head cushioned by the stainless steel handles of her walker.

I was the only one awake but we were all there, as far as I could see.

Everyone but Lindsay.

“I don't know,” I said to Conn McCracken, once he had stopped stomping, blowing on his hands and swearing.

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

McCracken, his ratty little partner, Leonard Momberquette, and their cold bulky coats crowded the front entrance. Someone had left a pair of leather boots where I could trip on them. I skidded on a muddy puddle marring the elegant marble tile. My head buzzed.

“Just woke up. She must be here. Let me check upstairs. She's probably in the bathroom.”

I started on the stairs, two at a time. McCracken thudded behind me. Images of injuries and death flooded my brain. I heard the sound of my own voice: “Oh God, we were all asleep. What if Benning got in?”

As my foot hit the top stair, I lurched sideways into the banister when something rushed by me. Merv shot toward the closed door of Lindsay's bedroom. McCracken's voice boomed behind us, “Stop. Don't open that door.”

Merv yanked the door open. I was glued to his heels as he exploded into the bedroom. We both stopped. I hardly noticed the pain in my foot as McCracken stepped on it.

Lindsay lay on the bed, on top of the pewter silk spread, unmoving in the dim morning light. She glowed, pale as dust, her red sweater sleeve like a slash of blood. Her hand stretched out toward the window. Eyes closed. Merv flung himself at the bed. He sounded like he was strangling.

I exhaled with relief. I knew she couldn't be dead. Benning would never leave her so undamaged. As I reached the bed and bent over, I saw her chest rise. She was breathing. Tears stung my eyes. She was all right.

I whirled on Conn McCracken. “You scared the shit out of us.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet,” came a voice from behind him. Leonard Mombourquette. The man we're all better off without.

“Lennie
,” McCracken said. I heard the warning whether or not Mombourquette did.

Merv reached down and stroked Lindsay's limp hand. “Thank God, thank God.”

I tuned into the racket coming from the staircase. Footsteps. Voices. Alvin led the second wave. He squinted without his glasses, his ponytail hung loose. “Is…?”

Elaine appeared behind him, pink and panting, her wild red curls beyond all hope. She edged into the room, banging her hip on the edge of the dresser. “Is…?”

A strange metallic thumping filled the air.

“What the hell's that?” McCracken moved toward the door. “Lennie, get on it.”

Mombourquette's hand shot towards his holster just as Mrs. Parnell lurched over the top stair clutching her metal cane for balance. “You better put your hand down, sonny,” she said, “before you get into trouble.”

“For Christ's sake, Lennie,” McCracken said.

Mrs. Parnell pushed past Mombourquette. “Is…?”

“She's alive,” I scurried to the bed and insinuated myself around Merv, “and she hasn't been beaten. But no one could sleep through this, so something's not quite normal.” I bent over and tried her pulse. Slow but sure. I brushed against a small vial near a round cut-velvet pillow.

“We'd better see if she's…” Merv reached for the vial.

“Don't touch that, Merv,” I said.

“Okay, everybody out.” McCracken pointed to the door as he called for medical assistance.

Nobody moved.

“Everybody out.”

I could have told him it would take more than that to get this crowd to abandon ship.

“Your problem. Stay here, people, if you want to get charged.” Mombourquette can always manage a sneer.

But Mrs. Parnell can sneer with the best of them. “I shall not abandon my post for the likes of you, young man.”

“This is not the time to get huffy, Mrs. P. We need to find out what happened here and see if Lindsay requires medical attention. I think she's okay, but it's better for her if you all wait downstairs.”

Mombourquette likes to give the orders. He opened his mouth.

“Keep in mind, it's best for Lindsay,” I told the crowd.

“Get these people out of here, Camilla,” he said.

I chose not to argue with him. I had my own reasons for wanting them out of the room.

“She's probably fine. My guess is she took a couple of sleeping pills to get her through the night, and she's in a deep sleep. But we'd better find out. We won't do her any good here. She might even panic if she wakes up to a scene from
Lethal Weapon,.”

“Right.” Merv wasn't moving. I figured he meant everyone else could leave.

“Why doesn't somebody put on coffee? We can all use it,” I said.

“I'll do that.” Elaine whacked her knee on the door on her way out.

“Alvin, can you give her a hand?”

Lindsay's eyelids fluttered but remained closed. “Merv, can you help Mrs. Parnell down the stairs?”

“I'm staying here.”

“Don't argue. And that goes double for you, Mrs. P.”

I reached over and checked Lindsay's pulse again. It gave me something to do. Lindsay issued a small hopeful sigh. Her colour seemed healthy. Cream, not white.

“So what's happening?” I whispered to McCracken. “Any leads on Benning?”

Mombourquette raised an eyebrow at McCracken. McCracken shook his head. I studied them.

“Don't worry about me, boys, I have all the time in the world. I wish I could say the same for Lindsay here. But take your time, no need to get off your butts and put Benning back where you should have kept him in the first place.”

Okay, so I couldn't really blame them for Benning's rampage. But when you wake up kissing Alvin's foot, it gets your day off to a bad start.

“You haven't heard?” Mombourquette snorted, and McCracken fired him a warning glance.

“Heard what?”

“We found him.”

“And he's back where he belongs?”

“You could say that.” Even at the best of times, I find Mombourquette's smirk hard to take.

“Lennie,” McCracken growled.

“You might say we have him on ice.” Light twinkled off Mombourquette's pointed incisors.

“Careful, Len.”

“High time, if you don't mind me saying so. I hope you can keep him behind bars this time.”

“Camilla.” McCracken doesn't usually call me by name, but this wedding thing had softened his brain.

“Forever would not be too long.”

“He'll have forever.” Mombourquette's tail twitched with amusement. A slight movement from the bed distracted me. Lindsay's eyes opened wide. “And then some,” Mombourquette said.

“I guess you haven't turned on your radio,” McCracken said.

They all thundered back up the stairs and crowded into her room as soon as Lindsay began to sob.

“C'mon, folks, give the lady some air.” McCracken pushed us all back into the hallway, closed the bedroom door and stood guard.

I thought Merv would punch him out, with Alvin's assistance. I hoped this unholy alliance would not endure past the immediate emotional situation.

“What have you done to that girl?” Mrs. Parnell pulled herself up to her full height, slightly more than Mombourquette's. She raised her steel-tipped cane, to steady herself I suppose, and accidentally brought it down on his instep.

Lucky for us the paramedics arrived.