I can do… ”
“You’re doing it,” I said. “Arresting the man who killed Abby will bring Delia a measure of peace. Take my word for it – that will make Zack’s job easier.”
Debbie pulled on her gloves. “I hope so. Zack’s a fine man. I wouldn’t have Leo today if it hadn’t been for him.”
“Was it that bad for Leo?”
“My son tried to kill himself,” Debbie said. “In my estimation, that’s as bad as it gets. All his life people had admired Leo; suddenly, they pitied him. I’ll never forget the deadness in his eyes the day he was told he’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”
I thought of Abby. “Leo didn’t see how he could survive his new life,” I said.
“That’s right,” Debbie said. “But luckily, he had Zack.”
In one of life’s small cosmic jokes, Madeleine and Lena had found the skates they dreamed of, but the skates Madeleine coveted were available only in Lena’s size, and the only pair left in the style for which Lena longed was in Madeleine’s size. They accepted their fates with uncharacteristic equanimity. Christmas was growing closer, and our granddaughters were fervent believers in Santa’s list.
We left the store with time enough to take the new skates to be sharpened by Eddy, the wizened gnome who had sharpened our family’s skates since my children were little.
Eddy’s tiny business, in the basement of a store that had once sold tobacco products but now sold vintage comic books, had been there for as long as I could remember, but this was the girls’ first trip. They had been chatting nonstop since I picked them up at school, but as we walked to the back of the comic book store and stood on the threshold of the steps that led to the basement, they fell silent.
The steps were steep and poorly lit; the air from below was dank and smelled of tobacco. When the girls and I started down the steps, we were met by an odd and unsettling whirring sound that caused both girls to grab my coat from behind. We were, indeed, descending into the heart of darkness.
In every essential way, Eddy and his business were much the same as they had been when I met him thirty years before. I had never seen him without a cigarette. There was always a pack of Player’s Plain in the pocket of his muscle shirt, and there was always a lit cigarette in his mouth. His skin was the colour of a cured tobacco leaf and his arms, now stringy with age, were heavily tattooed with images of anchors and calls to patriotism. Yellowing pictures of busty bathing beauties with come-hither smiles and upswept hair blanketed the shop’s ceiling. Periodically, Eddy would tilt back his head, peer through the smoke from his cigarette, and wink at them.
Madeleine and Lena were mesmerized as Eddy went into action, clamping each skate so that the blade touched the grinding wheel, setting the wheel in motion, whirring away just long enough, taking the honing stone to the sharpened blade to remove the burr. Eddy never spoke a word until he was through and he muttered a price. I paid. He pocketed the cash and we left the stygian depths.
We were on the street before either of the girls spoke again. “That was weird,” Madeleine said.
“But not too weird,” Lena chirped. “Just weird enough.” She looked across the road at the skating rink on Scarth Street Mall. The sun was out; the sky was blue. The sun dogs had disappeared. The day was warm enough to try out new skates. “Could we have just a little skate, Mimi?”
“Let me call your granddad and see how he’s feeling,” I said.
I dialled Zack’s cell. He picked up on the first ring. He sounded terrible.
“How are you doing?” I said.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“Is Taylor taking good care of you?”
“She was with me until a few minutes ago. She hovers, so I sent her packing.”
“Are you feeling worse?”
“I’m fine. Did you get the skates?”
“We did and we had them sharpened. The temperature is reasonable, and we’re standing here looking at the Scarth Street Mall rink. The girls are eager to try out their new skates. Would you be okay for another forty-five minutes?”
“Sure. Hey, take some pictures with your BlackBerry and send them to me.”
“I’m not sure I remember how.”
“Maddy can give you a hand.”
“Stay tuned,” I said.
Regina is a city with a population of 200,000, but over the years, I’ve displayed an uncanny knack for running into the one person whom I least wish to see. The girls were laced up and slip-sliding their way around the ice when Theo and Myra Brokaw approached and sat on the bench next to me. They were dressed for a winter walk: Sorel boots, stylish grey down jackets, and the red scarves they’d been wearing the night of the Wainbergs’ party.
“How nice that you’ve found the time for an outing,” Myra said.
“I promised our granddaughters I’d take them skate shopping,” I said.
“And a promise is a promise,” Myra said. The edge in her voice was unmistakable.
“That’s Madeleine in the green jacket and Lena’s the one in purple,” I said, pointing them out.
Theo shook his head. “Daughters.” As the girls moved around the rink, Theo’s eyes followed them. “Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide. Push. Glide,” he said softly.
I looked at Theo Brokaw. He was still a handsome and virile man. Age had not blurred the classic lines of his profile; his skin was taut, and even in repose his body had the coiled-spring energy of a man who found pleasure in physical exercise. When Delia clerked for him, he would have been in his late forties. Attractive, learned, and revered by his colleagues, Theo Brokaw was exactly the kind of man to whom a young woman who lived for the law would have been drawn.
The possibility that Theo had fathered Delia’s child had been at the edge of my consciousness from the morning Delia sat in our kitchen and told us about the baby she had given up for adoption. As Zack noted, nothing in Delia’s history or character suggested that her romantic life would be conducted so casually that she would be unable to identify the father of her child. Logic pointed to a serious love affair. So did the spark that flew between Theo and Delia when she greeted him at the door the day of the party. There had been nothing tentative or confused about Theo’s embrace; he had clung to Delia with the passion of a lover.
It occurred to me that the tapes Myra had mentioned might offer a glimpse into Theo and Delia’s relationship that year in Ottawa. I turned to Myra. “This morning you mentioned that you had footage of Theo talking to his students. That might be good television.”
Myra arched an eyebrow. “It
“Thank you,” I said. “Myra, I admire your determination. I wasn’t trying to brush you off when you phoned. Zack is ill, but he was adamant about not disappointing the girls.”
“I understand,” she said. There was sly amusement in her smile. “I understand a great deal, Joanne. I am not a stupid woman.”
When I got home, Willie greeted me at the door, his stump of a tail moving like a metronome marking the beats of his joy. The package from Myra Brokaw was on the hall table.
I unzipped my boots, hung up my coat, and went to my husband. There was a half-glass of ginger ale on the table beside him and Taylor’s practice bells from Luther were on the nightstand within easy ringing distance. Louise’s three poinsettias had been joined by six more – all large and all red. I kissed Zack’s forehead. “So what’s with all the flowers?”
“Taylor brought them in. The cards are there by the bells.”
“I take it the bells are for summoning your nurse.”
“That’s right. I told you she hovered.”
“She loves you,” I said. “I love you.” I gestured towards the poinsettias. “Everybody loves you.”
“What the hell are we going to do with all those, anyway?”
“Save money. I was going to buy a poinsettia for Mieka, one for Pete’s clinic, and one to put in Angus’s room to welcome him home. Now I don’t have to. You can spend the money we save on your heart’s desire.”
“You’re my heart’s desire,” he said. “Did we save enough to buy you a Birkin bag?”
“I don’t need a Birkin bag.”
