“I just didn’t want to hang around inside.”
“What’s going on,” I said.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just Bryn.”
“She wanted to get up-close-and-personal?” I said.
“I don’t know what she wants,” he said. “After you left, Jill and her lawyer took off.”
“Where did they go?”
“To his store. He said they needed to be sure nobody walked in on them, which didn’t make any sense – I mean, who’s going to walk in on them in our house? Anyway, Jill asked me to keep an eye on Bryn, so I went in to watch the movie with her.” My son looked down at his boots. “Mum, I was there about three minutes when she started coming onto me.”
“And that was a problem?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It was a problem because it was totally BS. Bryn is really hot, Mum. What’s she doing faking this big passion for a guy like me?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know anything – except that all of a sudden, I’m not crazy about the idea of going inside either.”
“Want me to get you a shovel?” Angus asked.
“Good idea,” I said. “Let’s move a little snow around – shovel the day away.”
It took us half an hour to clear the walk and the driveway. The snow from the blizzard was crisp, even, and very, very, deep. By the time we were finished, my lungs were aching, and my muscles were crying foul, but as I looked at the path we had cleared, I felt a twinge of hope. Evan MacLeish was dead; Jill was safe; we didn’t have to let the misery bury us. Tomorrow the sun would rise earlier and stronger. The northern hemisphere was beginning its movement towards the time of budding life and fresh beginnings. Buoyed by possibilities, we headed for our front door. We’d almost made it when Angus stopped and pointed upwards.
Behind the filmy curtains of the bedroom, Bryn’s silhouette was ghostly. As soon as she realized we’d spotted her, she opened the window and called down. “It was fun watching you,” she said. “Especially since you didn’t know I was here.” She waved, then closed the window.
Angus ripped off his toque. “See what I mean, Mum,” he whispered. “She’s totally psycho.”
“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction. I knew that in celebrating the end of the time of cold and darkness, I’d been woefully premature.
CHAPTER
6
The next morning I was jolted from a sound sleep by the shrill of the phone on my nightstand. I opened one eye to read the numbers on the alarm clock: 6:00 a.m. – half an hour past my usual wake-up time, but too early for anyone to be calling with good news. The voice on the other end of the line was apologetic but not overly so. “It’s Claudia MacLeish. I know it’s early, but I need the name of your doctor.”
“What’s happened now?” I asked, but even as I formed the words, I knew I didn’t want to hear the answer.
Claudia sounded as exhausted as I felt. “Nothing that someone prepared to write a scrip for a beta blocker can’t cure. You’ve probably noticed that Tracy’s been high-wiring since we got here. As long as she has her medication, she can function. We travel with our own little pharmacy, but this morning one of her essentials is missing. I’ve torn apart the hotel room looking for her beta blockers, but they are nowhere to be found, and she has to take them every day.”
“Can’t her doctor in Toronto just fax out a prescription renewal?”
“He’s away for the holidays. I suggested going to a medi-centre or an emergency room, but Tracy doesn’t want her public to see the Broken Wand Fairy twitching.”
“The Broken Wand Fairy may have more serious problems than bad PR ,” I said. “The medical examiner is concerned enough about what he termed ‘the chemical stew’ in Gabe Leventhal’s bloodstream to ask the police to treat Gabe Leventhal’s death as a homicide.”
Claudia clucked dismissively. “You’re not suggesting that Tracy…”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” I said. “Let’s just hope they don’t find beta blockers in Gabe Leventhal’s blood samples. Otherwise, the police are going to be knocking on your door.”
“They can knock, but they can also cross Tracy off their list.”
“Gabe told me he had a history with her.”
“And it was nasty, brutish, and short. It was also a long time ago. Tracy wouldn’t have emptied out her pill bottle for him – she needs that medication. Give your doctor a call – please.”
“There’s a psychiatrist I can call,” I said, “but I can tell you right now, Dan Kasperski will have to see Tracy before he writes a scrip for anything.”
“Whatever it takes,” Claudia said.
When I hung up, Jill was standing in the doorway. “Phone wake you up?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “Just lying there, mulling over the options.”
“Something new has been added to the mix, and I’m afraid it isn’t good.” I patted the bed. “Come and sit down.”
The night before, Alex had accused Jill of offering him nothing but lies, half-truths, and evasions. I’d chafed at the attack, but in my heart, I knew there was truth in what he said. Jill was holding back, and as I filled her in on the latest developments, I watched her carefully – trying to read the signs.
She was rapt but silent until I mentioned Claudia’s phone call about the missing beta blockers. Suddenly, she was shaping the story. “No big mystery there – Tracy misplaced them. She’s a flake. She loses stuff all the time.”
“If she’s as dependent on her medication as Claudia says, I think it’s the one thing she might be careful about.”
Jill turned on me. “Damn it, Jo, the last thing I need is you hovering around playing Hercule Poirot. I’ve got enough problems.”
I stood up. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll stay out of it. I’ll take Willie for his walk, and when I come back, you tell me how I can help.”
Jill punched the air in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m being a total asshole. It just makes me sick knowing that the police are out there digging around in our lives, and there’s nothing I can do.”
“Come off it,” I said. “You’re not exactly without resources. You’re a journalist. You know the most potent weapon anybody has in a tight spot is information.”
“ ‘And the Truth shall set you free,’ ” Jill said. She raked her hands through her hair. “That is the way it’s supposed to work, isn’t it?”
When Willie and I got back from our walk, the coffee was made, and the table was set. As I passed down the hall to the shower, Jill came out of her room.
“Is it okay if I borrow something of yours to wear? Everything I’ve got with me was supposed to make a statement in the Big Apple.”
“Help yourself,” I said. “I don’t own a single item of clothing that even whispers.”
I’d stripped and was ready for the shower when the phone rang. I picked it up. So did somebody else. “I’ve got it,” I said and waited for the click that would indicate the other phone had been hung up. The click never came.
“Could I speak to Joanne Kilbourn, please?” The man’s voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“This is Joanne,” I said.
“Kevin Hynd. How’s it going?”
“We’re hanging in,” I said. “Jill’s getting dressed. I’ll call her.”
“You’re the one I want to talk to.”
I was certain I could hear the faint sound of our kitchen radio in the background. There was someone on the
