stiff from being stoic. What kind of sadist invented the post-funeral party anyway?”
“The theory is that the reception gives the bereaved a chance to connect with the living again.”
“Even if that’s the last thing the bereaved want to do?”
“Especially if that’s the last thing the bereaved want to do,” I said.
“I guess I see some logic there,” she said. “Enough chitchat. I’ve been sent to extend an invitation you can’t refuse.”
“Go for it.”
“We’re taking what remains of Chris out on the lake tomorrow morning.” She drew deeply on her cigarette. “His last boat ride, and the consensus is that you should come along.”
“I take it you didn’t lead the march to the consensus.”
“No, I think it’s a stupid idea.”
“I agree. You did your duty. Just report back that I said no.”
“It’s not that simple.” Delia extended a leg and wiggled her foot. She was wearing flip-flops with daisies. Frivolous footwear for a woman on a serious mission. “Anyway, you probably should say yes. Kevin wants you to come.”
“You got in touch with Kevin?”
“Lily did.” Delia arched an eyebrow. “According to her, Kevin would like you to go in his stead.”
“That doesn’t make sense either,” I said. “Kevin and I are friends, but we’re not…”
“You’re not lovers,” she crowed. “I knew it. The others all thought you were – that Kevin had sent you up here this summer to try you out – see how well you fit in with us.”
“That’s bizarre,” I said. “Delia, Kevin walked away from Falconer Shreve because he wanted something else. He’s hardly going to wander all over Tibet so that his ex-partners can check out his new girlfriend.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Delia’s eyes glittered. “You’re right, of course. Kevin stopped caring about what we thought a long time ago. As far as he’s concerned the Winners’ Circle is dead and Falconer Shreve is just another shitty law firm.”
Delia’s face was grey. It seemed unconscionable to add to her burden. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” I said.
Delia slumped with relief. “I owe you,” she said, crushing out her cigarette.
“It’s the least I can do,” I said. “You’ve all been kind to us, and Kevin may not be a lover but he is a friend.”
“Sometimes that’s better,” Delia said. “Less wear and tear on the heart.” She stood, removed a fresh cigarette from her pack, and gave me a small smile. “So I’ll see you at the dock at five? Early, I know, but we wanted to get out on the water before the invasion of the Jet Skis.”
“Five is fine,” I said. “Delia, can I ask you something?”
She tensed. Her fingers still rested on the handle of the screen door, but her voice went unexpectedly hard. “If it’s about the rumour that Chris’s death wasn’t an accident, forget about it. I refuse to give headspace to that theory.”
“No, it’s something else,” I said. “Can you tell me about Clare Mackey?”
I was watching Delia carefully for a reaction. What I got wasn’t subtle. She shuddered as if she’d touched something loathsome. “If you know someone who’s thinking of hiring her, tell them to forget it.”
“She didn’t work out at Falconer Shreve?”
“Au contraire. She worked out fine – quite the rising star – then she just took off, leaving her files in an absolute mess.”
“Disorganized?”
“Oh, they were beautifully organized. They were also incomplete. A lot of lawyers, me included, carry information about cases around in their head. Sometimes it’s just safer that way. But if circumstances change, and you know you’re not going to be handling a particular file, you have a duty to your clients and to your colleagues to make sure somebody knows what you know. Little Clare must have been absent the day they covered that particular obligation in ethics class. When she got that job offer in Victoria, she just took off.”
“I thought she went to Vancouver.”
“Somewhere on the left coast, I don’t know. All I know is she skipped off and took a lot of essential information with her.” Her face clouded at the memory. “It still makes me furious. Clare wasn’t a novice. She knew someone would have to pick up the slack, go over ground she’d already covered. She also knew that, unless you had specialized knowledge, it would be tough sledding. Clare does corporate work. She also has a commerce degree with a specialty in forensic accounting -”
“Accounting analysis,” I said.
“With enough precision to make the results stick in a courtroom. Forensic accountants offer a lot of litigation support, quantifying economic damages – the economic loss involved in a breach of contract or the loss of future earnings. I guess when Clare was playing second fiddle to the litigators she got the hots for the law – I used to nod off in corporate law, but some lawyers love it, and of course, with corporate clients, the money’s good. Anyway, to give Clare her due, she was a whiz.”
“But she left her clients and her colleagues in a mess,” I said.
“Oh boy, did she ever. There was one particular case – I still get the shivers when I think about it. It was so complicated and we were working against the clock. None of us had pulled that many all-nighters since law school.”
“Why didn’t you just get in touch with her? Surely she had an obligation to her clients to tell you what she knew.”
“Lily tried. Clare clammed up, said there were numbers she simply didn’t remember and didn’t feel comfortable estimating. Which was bullshit. We didn’t need her to give us the numbers; we needed her to give us the information she’d used to arrive at the numbers.”
“And she refused?”
“Apparently. And if she ever shows that sweet little heart-shaped face around here again, I will personally punch out her lights.” Delia struck a match and touched the end of her cigarette. “Do you know I’d quit this for ten whole days before Clare left? But as soon as I saw that mountain of work she’d left behind I bummed a smoke from one of our clerks, and I was back to square one.”
“I understand Clare left on Remembrance Day,” I said.
Delia exhaled slowly. “You’d have to ask Lily, but considering all the memories little Clare left behind, Remembrance Day would have a certain resonance, wouldn’t it?”
CHAPTER
5
When I hit fifty, I vowed to keep physical and mental inflexibility at bay through the practice of yoga. Given my lackadaisical approach, it seemed unlikely that I would ever reach the highest happiness of nirvana, but there was one yoga posture I was faithful to. When my body or my children told me it was time to chill out, I would close the door, dim the lights, roll out my mat, and assume the shava-asana or corpse pose: head centred, body and palms on the floor, mind focused on my breathing. Shava-asana had never failed me, but that night even the corpse position couldn’t deliver me from the torment of monkey thoughts.
Nothing about Clare Mackey’s sudden relocation to Vancouver rang true, and there was more. Clare wasn’t the only one who had been missing in action on that icy Remembrance Day. Alex Kequahtooway had been a no- show too. November 11 was Taylor’s birthday, and we’d had big plans: a trip to the Science Centre with nine of her closest friends, then back to our house for cake, ice cream, and presents. We’d arranged to leave our house at two in the afternoon. When Alex hadn’t arrived by ten past, I called his office, his home, and his cell. There was no answer. By two-thirty, the kids were bouncing off the walls, and I pressed Angus into service to drive the group Alex was going to take. The rest of the afternoon had been a nightmare – trying to keep the mood light while I watched the door of the Science Centre and waited for my cell to ring. Neither Alex nor the phone call of
