The Endless Knot

“He or she – I couldn’t tell which, quoted Shakespeare. ‘If you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’ ”

“The Merchant of Venice,” I said.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “I guess whoever made the call didn’t get to the part where Portia talks about the quality of mercy. The cops seem to think the bomb was intended to kill.”

“Did they have any ideas about who it was supposed to kill?”

Charlie and my son exchanged a quick glance.

“Mum’s going to find out sooner or later,” Peter said.

Charlie shrugged. “The bomb exploded in the clients’ room outside Zachary Shreve’s office. Apparently, Zack wasn’t there at the time.”

“He was in the bathroom,” I said.

“Well, he caught a break there,” Charlie said. “Because I guess his office is pretty well toast.”

CHAPTER

3

Zack had been right when he’d said that threats were nothing new in my world. When my husband had been Attorney General, an increased volume of mad-dog phone calls and letters written in crayon was always a tipoff that a full moon was rising. As a member of Canada Tonight’s political panel for three years, I’d had my share of attention from the marginal and the delusional. Once, after our panel had sparred over the question of the nation’s place in the forests of the nation, a caller who asserted that Christ would return when the last tree was felled paintballed our house. But the distance between a paintball and a bomb is a big jump, and as Charlie’s words sunk in, I felt the familiar rat-a-tat of fear. The panic was short-lived. My cellphone rang just as I drove through the gate to Lawyers’ Bay. It was Zack, and when I heard his large, warm voice, relief washed over me.

“Great timing,” I said. “I just learned that you’re in the market for a new office.”

“Damn,” he said. “I was hoping that particular piece of information wouldn’t drift your way.”

“Think again,” I said. “This is Regina. Sooner or later everybody finds out everything.”

“And you have already found out that I’m fine.”

“Zack, you could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” he said. “So let’s talk about something else. What’s it like at the lake?”

I tried to match his insouciance. “Gorgeous,” I said. “Not a cloud in the sky and there are leaves everywhere. The lawns look like they’ve been carpeted. The lake’s a little choppy, but we’ll be able to take the boat out.”

“I’ll hold on to that thought,” Zack said. “It might just keep me from driving myself nuts trying to figure out how to win a case that is probably unwinnable.”

“Where’s that famous optimism of yours?”

“I’m still optimistic,” Zack said. “I’m just not sure my optimism is justified. Anyway, as Gawain said, ‘it’s time for fate to take its course.’ ”

“Where did that come from? At lunch you didn’t know who Gawain was.”

“I looked him up on the Internet. Great story. Loved that Green Knight.”

“You amaze me,” I said. “Your office has just been bombed, you’ve got this huge case going on, and you’re playing around on the Internet.”

“It’s a lawyer thing,” Zack said. “I can’t stand people knowing things I don’t know. Anyway, gotta go.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you at the lake.” But it was too late. He was already gone.

During his first hour at Lawyers’ Bay, Charlie Dowhanuik was on his best behaviour. Our family was spread out over three of the five cottages: the place that I’d rented the summer before from Kevin Hynd; the house that the late Chris Altieri’s partners had bought from his estate to use for guests, and Zack’s. That meant that, in addition to unloading the car and getting dinner started, we had to air out three houses, make beds, and distribute more fresh towels than I cared to think about. Charlie’s manic energy was a godsend. By the time Mieka, Greg, and the little girls arrived, the cottages were ready; the big table in Zack’s sunroom was set for dinner; the casseroles I’d brought from home were in the oven, and the burgundy was breathing.

As always, the first few moments with Mieka, Greg, and the granddaughters were chaotic. As soon as she was liberated from her car seat, Maddy streaked for the lake. Quick as cats, Taylor and Isobel streaked after her. Lena, aware she was missing something, squirmed out of her mother’s arms and crawled after her sister. I scooped her up. In her small fist, she was clutching a Cheezie, sodden and half-chewed. I nuzzled her hair. “Who’s the luckiest grandma in the whole world?” I asked, and she rewarded me with a dazzling orange smile.

Mieka reached out to hug me. “It’s nice to have the luckiest grandma close enough for a handoff. I’m bushed.”

“Long week?” I asked.

Mieka sighed. “They’re all long,” she said. Greg put his arm around her shoulders. They were the same height, five-foot-eight. They had been together since they were eighteen, and in those days they had both been pleasantly rounded, but over the years, Mieka had grown very thin, and when I bought my son-in-law the Tilley shorts he was wearing, I’d been careful to order extra-large. On a good day, they made jokes about their reversal of the fates of Jack Spratt and his wife, but today was clearly not a good day. They both looked careworn.

Greg filled his lungs with pungent lake air and exhaled with a sigh. “It’s good to be away from the city,” he said.

“Problems with the business?” I asked.

“Nope. It’s thriving,” Greg said. He’d been a stockbroker, but when Mieka’s catering business took off, he’d quit to manage their company. “Your daughter has a knack for knowing what people want to eat. We’re getting a lot of corporate work, which is great, but we need to expand.”