“Endzone’s got herself a new trick,” said Morris. “Watch this.” He waved a piece of bologna in the air. The big yellow dog opened one eye, then the other. Clearly, her master knew how to get her attention. “Endzone, drive the truck,” Morris barked.
The dog loped lazily towards a Ford half-ton. The door on the driver’s side was open and Endzone jumped into the driver’s seat, placed her paws on the steering wheel, and peered around.
“Look at that,” Morris marvelled. “Wouldn’t you swear she was driving that truck?”
“Apart from the fact that the door to the cab is open and the motor isn’t running, I guess I would,” Stan Gardiner agreed.
“Exit the truck,” Morris yelled. He held out the bologna. Endzone leaped down and snapped up the treat with a single bite. “Did you hear she took off again?” he asked.
“It’s in their blood,” Aubrey said sagely. “They can’t help themselves. Her mother was the same.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t end up killing two men like her mother did,” Stan said. “That was a real tragedy.”
I stared at Endzone with new eyes. It was hard to believe this sad-sack Buster Keaton dog had killer genes.
“She may have already started,” Morris said. He peeled a slice of bologna from the package and gummed it absent-mindedly. “I’ll bet when all is said and done, they’ll find out she had something to do with that Chris Altieri’s death. If he did commit suicide, which I doubt, I’ll bet it was because of her. The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree, and if the particular nut we’re talking about had stayed closer to the tree, it would have been better for everyone.”
Stan dipped a gingersnap in his coffee. “Nuts and trees. Why the hell can’t you ever just say what you want to say plain, so that an ordinary human being can understand what you’re saying?”
“Because I’ve been around, and I know the importance of being discreet,” Morris said.
“Well, you’re just being stupid. Say it plain, man.” Stan Gardiner’s anger was building.
“All right, here it is plain. If Lily Falconer had stayed closer to her husband and kid, there might not have been a suicide over there at Lawyers’ Bay. That Lily is like her mother – a fatal attraction. She can’t help the way men buzz around her, like bees around a flower. But two good men died because of Lily’s mother, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a case of history repeating itself here.”
My heart was pounding so loudly, I was certain the gents at the next table could hear it, but they had sunk back into meditation. Willie, however, picked up my tension. He strained at the leash. “Stay,” I hissed. He looked at me reproachfully, but he stopped pulling. Ears pricked, I listened for the next revelation.
Morris took out a cigarette and offered the pack around. There were no takers. He lit his smoke and sat back. “I owe you an apology, Stan,” he said.
“You owe me more than one apology,” Stan said crankily.
“Don’t push your luck,” Morris said. “You’re no saint. All the same, I was out of line criticizing your viewing habits. I like Lawrence Welk myself. As for that champagne lady – Alice what’s her name – well, she could park her dancing slippers under my bed any time she liked.” He laughed his dry, wheezing laugh. “Come on, Endzone,” he said. “We’ve done enough damage here. Time to head back to the house.”
Overwhelmed by the enormity of what I’d heard, I watched man and dog make their dusty progress down the road. Morris’s words had been plain enough, but I couldn’t seem to take them in. I was so engrossed in puzzling out what he’d said that I didn’t notice that Leah was standing beside me until she tapped my arm.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, yourself,” I said. “Talk about bad timing. You just missed Endzone, the wonder dog.”
“I’ve caught his act. That dog will do anything for processed meat.” Her smile was pained. “I’m glad you’re back, Jo. I’m guessing someone’s already told you about the break-in.”
“Noah was putting a new lock on the door when Taylor and I got back from the city,” I said. “He filled me in.”
“I feel so awful. Angus does too. But we did lock the door. The lock was just so old – whoever broke in didn’t have any trouble forcing it. Was anything else besides the laptop missing?”
“No,” I said.
“Weird,” she said. “Because that laptop of yours – no offence – but it wasn’t worth risking a jail term over. And the place was neat as a pin. We weren’t gone long, thirty minutes, tops. Angus says whoever did the job must have been watching the cottage.” Leah pushed her chair back. “I’d better get back to work. The store is humming today.”
I walked back to the cottage, mulling over the information that had come my way during the last thirty minutes. Despite the gathering heat of the day, I felt a chill. Angus’s theory that the laptop thief had been watching our cottage wasn’t the most menacing intelligence I’d received, but it was the one most directly connected to my life. For the first time since I’d arrived at Lawyers’ Bay, I was apprehensive as I opened my front door. Before I settled in, I went through the house to make sure everything was in order. I was glad Willie was with me. He was a toothless lion, but a stranger wouldn’t know that.
I satisfied myself that all was in order, then changed into my bathing suit and picked up my book and a beach towel. I needed the warmth of the sun on my back and I needed not to be alone. But before I could allow myself the luxury of the beach, there were two telephone calls I had to make.
The first was straightforward. Anne Millar deserved a report on my meeting with Holly Knott. I found Anne’s business card in my wallet, picked up my cell, and dialled. Anne was in a meeting. Her administrative assistant suggested I leave a message on her voice mail and I did. My message was brief. I said that Holly Knott believed that Clare might have kept in touch with the members of her Moot Team and that Holly had e-mailed the head administrator at the College of Law giving her the go-ahead to release the women’s contact information to me.
The second phone call was not so easy. My hands were shaking as I dialled Alex’s number at the police station. When I learned that he wasn’t on duty, I was relieved, but I knew I couldn’t let myself off that easily. I dialled his apartment number, and as I listened to the phone ring, I imagined the familiar room with its clean, uncluttered lines and collections of Mozart. There was no answer. As I dialled Alex’s cell, my face was flushed. I was certain he would pick up, but he didn’t. I rang off without leaving a message – glad that I didn’t have to ask questions with answers I didn’t want to hear. But I was already asking myself a question. Lily Falconer had taken off. Was it possible that she hadn’t taken off alone, that like her mother before her Lily had exerted a pull on the men in her life that she couldn’t control, and that Alex had succumbed to what Morris, the man who had been around, termed her fatal attraction?
CHAPTER
7
I didn’t have time to ponder Lily’s history or her mother’s. As they had since I’d arrived at Lawyers’ Bay, events tumbled over one another, leaving me without time to do much but react. The head administrator at the College of Law called with contact information about Clare Mackey’s Moot partners. It was holiday time, so finding people in the office hadn’t been easy, but I did manage to track down one member of the team, a woman named Maggie Niewinski, who was working for a small law firm in Prince Albert, a city on the edge of our province’s parkland. In less than an hour, Maggie had touched base with the other women from the Moot Team. None of them had heard from Clare. No one had been worried. They were all establishing new careers and lives in new communities; keeping in touch had been put on hold. But the sudden realization that no one had heard from Clare had been unsettling. When Maggie called me back to report, she tried to keep the edge of panic out of her voice, but I could hear it, and I felt an answering anxiety. Something was not right.
When a shiny black Ford pulled into my driveway and Detective Robert Hallam hopped out, waved, and smiled, relief washed over me. It was as if the Moot Team’s collective anxiety had somehow conjured up this most reliable of officers. As always, Robert was dapper: black dress shoes polished to a high gloss, grey lightweight slacks with a knife-sharp press, a striped cotton shirt the colour of orange sherbet, and a grey silk tie.
When he came inside he gazed around at the shabby comfort appreciatively. “This is so nice,” he said. “I’ve
