“No, and the people in that house weren’t easy people to grow up with. Bryn’s mother was a real piece of work. And you’ve seen Tracy…”
“Annie’s been dead for almost fifteen years. Why does Tracy still live there?”
Jill raised her hands in the universal gesture of the confounded. “Who knows? My guess is that when Tracy discovered that the spotlight would always shine on her sister not her, she just followed the path of least resistance.”
“A role in a children’s show and living at home – someone else’s home at that. Not exactly a sparkling destiny,” I said.
“No one in that house has a sparkling destiny – it’s a house of half-lived lives.”
“Claudia seems to fill her days.”
“A pair of Rottweilers, a niece who can’t wait to leave, a sister-in-law who’s a basket case, and a mother who hasn’t been out of the house in forty years – not my idea of a fully realized life.”
“Caroline hasn’t been out of the house in forty years?”
Jill nodded. “Apparently after Claudia was born, her mother suffered a postpartum ‘incident.’ That’s when the agoraphobia began.”
“Claudia told me today that her mother never wanted children,” I said. “Was the incident caused by guilt?”
Jill shrugged. “Who knows? That family is full of secrets.”
“Still, someone must have tried to get treatment for Caroline.”
“Of course, they did,” Jill said. “Her husband was a professor at U of T. He tapped every colleague and acquaintance he had at the School of Medicine. They offered to psychoanalyze her, medicate her, and modify her behaviour. Caroline turned them all down flat.”
“Why?”
“According to Evan, his mother saw herself as a woman like Virginia Woolf – a person with an exceptional mind and exceptional problems. Apparently, she simply refused to allow people she considered to be her intellectual inferiors to roam around in her brain.”
“And her family accepted that?”
“They had no choice.” Jill ran a thumbnail down the label of her Great Western. “For all her problems, Caroline is a force to be reckoned with. She has a lot of money and she really is brilliant. She has one of those quicksilver minds that shimmers from one idea to the next.”
“Her illness must have put a pretty serious dent in her shimmering.”
Jill nodded. “It’s been devastating for her. She should have been setting the world of ideas on fire. Instead, she has nothing more to do than muse over her tchotchkes, supervise her garden, and read everything ever written about agoraphobia. She’s an expert there – in every way. She’s so knowledgeable, she’s written articles that have appeared in medical journals. She just can’t break out. She says it’s as if she’s in a fairy tale and some evil witch cast a spell on her, so that every time she tries to step out of the house, the demons attack.”
“Is she bitter?” I asked.
“People make accommodations…” Jill gazed at her bottle. “Empty,” she said.
“Are you up for another round?”
“Nope,” she said. “I think I’ve had enough fun today. I’m going to hit the sack.”
After Jill went up to bed, I checked on the kids. Angus and Bryn were engrossed in the movie credits, but the question of whether Ralphie would ever get his Red Ryder so he could shoot his eye out would remain unanswered for Taylor. She was sound asleep.
I tapped my son’s shoulder. “Santa’s still doing his evaluations,” I said. “Are you up for a good deed?”
“You want me to carry Taylor upstairs?”
“I do,” I said. “It’s the end of the day, and your sister is no longer a featherweight.”
We climbed the stairs together and tucked Taylor in. “Dismissed with thanks,” I said.
Angus didn’t leave. “Mum, have you got a minute?”
“Of course.”
He followed me down to my room, closed the door, and stared at his shoes.
“Let me help,” I said. “Is this about the fact that Bryn is back on the A list.”
Angus coloured. “We had a long talk. She told me that sometimes she doesn’t know how to behave. Like with her dad dying – she says she must have been in a state of shock or something.”
“She seemed pretty focused to me,” I said. “She wants to move to New York and she isn’t about to let anything interfere with her plans.”
“I know that’s how it looks,” Angus said. “But she’s trying. You saw how nice she was tonight.”
“Yes,” I said, “I did.”
Angus looked at me hard. “You don’t think she’s sincere.”
“Just take it slow,” I said.
“Because?”
“Because the fact that a young woman believes taupe is an underrated colour isn’t enough to build a relationship on.”
As if on cue, the taupe-lover herself burst through the door. This time there was no mistaking Bryn’s sincerity. She was so agitated her words tumbled over one another. “There’s something going on in the back alley. A lot of lights, and I think police cars. Should I get Jill?”
“No,” I said. “Let her sleep till we find out what’s happening.”
As we followed her, Bryn filled us in. “The dog was making this weird noise, so I let him out. The minute he got in the backyard, he started to bark. I went out to the deck to see what was going on. That’s when I saw…,” she shrugged, “whatever I saw.”
We all put on coats and boots; I called Willie, snapped on his leash, then the four of us went to investigate. As soon as I unlatched the gate that opened onto the alley, Willie made a sound I’d never heard him make before: a low, guttural warning growl. I knew how he felt. The quiet alley along which we’d walked an hour before was floodlit, and khaki tarpaulins had been thrown over the snow. Half a dozen police officers were tipping garbage bags from the bins onto the tarps, then searching through their findings. It was not a pretty sight.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Police business,” a cop who didn’t look much older than Angus said.
“That’s my garbage you’re going through,” I said. “So it’s my business too. What are you looking for?”
The young cop took a step towards me, and Willie strained at the leash, growling at him with bared teeth.
“Hold that dog back,” the young officer said.
“He doesn’t do anything without a command,” I said.
“I’ll get the inspector.”
Alex Kequahtooway came back with the young cop and, in an instant, Willie morphed from killer to buddy. Tail wagging, he leapt up and began licking Alex’s face. The corners of the young cop’s mouth turned up as he looked at me. “Looks like your dog needs a command,” he said.
“Heel, Willie,” I said in my new Claudia-inspired voice, and amazingly, Willie came and sat at my feet.
I glanced at the tarpaulin – and recognized some treasures from our garbage: takeout containers from Heliotrope, some wizened tangerines that had been hiding in the back of the crisper, an empty bacon package. A young cop was going through the detritus with the fervour of a man panning for gold. “So, Alex,” I said, “what exactly is it that you’re looking for?”
Alex’s left eye twitched, a sure sign of tension. “I can’t answer that,” he said. “This is a police investigation. I think you should leave.”
“It’s a pleasant night,” I said. “And this is public space.”
“Suit yourself,” Alex said.
After five minutes, my bravado had dissipated and my feet were cold, but at least I wasn’t alone. Angus had stayed with me, so – surprisingly – had Bryn. Both were uncomplaining, but I was just thirty seconds from calling it quits when the young officer closest to us held up an empty prescription pill bottle. “Bingo,” he said.
Alex gave the discovery the briefest of glances and said, “Good work. Bag it for forensics.”
I stepped towards the tarpaulin. “All that effort for a pill bottle,” I said.
