'Sure,' I said. 'Just now. So help me out here. Help your mom. Two minutes, Andrew. Come on.'
'You said one minute before. And there isn't much I can tell you,' he said. 'We weren't that close lately. We used to be when we were little. When we were going to the same schools and summer camps. When we were living in the same house. But we grew apart once I got into the business.'
'When was that?'
'After university. I worked summers for my dad while I did my business degree-straight construction jobs, nothing fancy, so I could learn everything from the ground up. Like he did. But Maya never had the slightest interest in business. Not Dad's, or any kind.'
'She wanted to be an actress?'
'Always. And she was good. I always went to see her plays. But she was into other things lately that seemed to get between us.'
'Like what?'
'I don't know. All this environmental stuff, I guess. She used to look up to me when we were younger. The older brother, right? Now all of a sudden I couldn't do anything right. She'd bug me if I was having coffee in a Styrofoam cup instead of a mug. Or because I drive instead of cycling-like I could do that in a suit-or that I don't take public transit, which I can't do with all the places I have to be every day. I mean, I don't care what other people do. I don't bug them about it. But she was getting obsessive about it lately-like she wanted to impose a carbon tax on everyone.'
'The night she died, Andrew.'
His face darkened and his shoulders stiffened inside his coat. 'I have to-'
'Just tell me what she and your dad were arguing about.'
'I don't think so. Dad says what happens in the family, stays in the family.'
'And look where it got Maya.'
'That's not fair. You make it sound like it was Dad's fault she killed herself, and it wasn't. It's not like they had a big screaming match.'
'But they did argue.'
'Everyone argued. A little.'
'What about?'
'I don't even know you. And you're prying into things…'
'That hurt?'
'That are none of your business.'
'Doesn't your mom have a right to know?'
He glared at me for playing the mom card then sighed deeply. 'Maya was just being Maya. Getting on Dad's case about this project.'
'Why?'
'I don't know exactly. It started in the den. First she got into it with Nina. Don't ask me what about. Then with Dad. I didn't hear everything. Maya was afraid this project would have a big impact on the environment. Maybe a few ducks would lose their habitat or something. Which is bullshit.'
He pointed to the southern expanse of the job site, where a lone Canada goose was drinking from a small stream that had formed in ruts left by giant tires. 'All that is going to be parkland,' he said. 'Twelve per cent of the land. And we were only required to allocate ten. There will be grass and trees and ponds.' He swallowed hard a couple of times. 'It's all going to be beautiful. The park, the marina, the residences, the shops. All of it. And we're the ones building it.'
A tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it with the back of his hand. 'I just wish my sister was here to see it,' he said.
CHAPTER 6
I slipped through a curtain into a room that had been painted entirely black. Walls, ceiling, floor, stage, all the same flat black. A square the size of a small bedroom had been taped off on the stage. The tape glowed lightly as if radioactive.
About twenty people were watching a young man who was sitting at a desk, reading a thick blue book, pencilling notes in its margins. A pretty blonde with dishevelled hair stood behind a line of tape and knocked on an invisible door, stamping her foot twice to provide the sound. The man looked up from his book, his face darkening, as though he'd been expecting-dreading-this visitor. He closed the book and walked to where the woman stood. He mimed opening the door and stepped aside as the woman entered. Before either of them could say anything, an older man sitting in the front row called, 'Stop.'
He was in his forties, muscular, bald with a wispy hairline of implants combed back from his crown. Theo Harris, who had been Maya Cantor's drama teacher.
The actor looked at him with a petulant frown. 'Why'd you stop us so soon? I didn't think we got far enough to screw up.'
'Don't jump to conclusions, James,' Harris said. 'I just want to try something here.'
He climbed up onto the stage and took the actress aside. He whispered briefly in her ear, then went into the darkened wings and returned with something held behind his back. He slipped the object into the pocket of her coat and then climbed down and took his seat. 'Once more, please.'
James sat down at the desk and resumed reading. I moved quietly to the back row of chairs and eased into one.
The actress stamped her foot again. James closed the book as he had before and went to the door with the same dark look on his face. He opened the invisible door but before he could look away, the actress pulled a small black revolver from her pocket and jammed it against his chest.
James jumped back with a startled look. 'What are you doing? That's not in the scene.'
Harris stood again. 'You weren't in the scene, James. You knew before the knock who was going to be there and why she was there. Didn't you?'
James stared sullenly at the black floor.
'Joe Clay doesn't know who's there, does he?' Harris asked.
'No.'
'If he did, would he open the door? Think of what Kirsten represents to him now. To you. You've finally achieved sobriety. You're finally on the road back to your self. And she is dangerous to you, isn't she?'
James's jaw was set so tightly, the word 'Yes' barely escaped.
'I pulled that little stunt with Alicia because I wanted to see surprise on your face. I wanted to see the look of a man who can lose everything he has in a split second if he isn't careful. That's where Joe is right now, isn't he? That's where you are if you are Joe.'
'I guess.'
'Don't guess, James. Know. Know that you are on a tight-rope with no net. All you have is the little bit of strength you've discovered since you started going to AA. So if it takes a gun to find it in yourself, next time she knocks on the door I want you to see that gun whether it's in her hand or not.' 'We were devastated when we heard about Maya. Devastated. This sort of thing happens so often with actors-they're hardly the most stable beings on the planet-but Maya Cantor? No one saw it coming.'
We were sitting in Theo Harris's office one flight up from the theatre, drinking coffee. He was also wolfing down an egg salad sandwich, for which he apologized. 'If I don't eat before my next class, I'll be tripping from hypoglycemia.'
'What sort of student was she?' I asked.
He mulled it over for a moment before answering. 'Capable, I would say. She certainly had talent. I wouldn't say she was gifted, not in the sense that Alicia Hastings is. If you'd seen more of Alicia's work in that scene today, you'd know what I mean. I never should have paired her up with James. He is so mannered, so constipated emotionally. She blows him away without even speaking.'
'And Maya?'
