Ms. MacPhee.” Mrs. Parnell leaned forward on her walker. “What an outfit. I must say, you look even less fashionable than usual. Still, it is nice to see you.”
“Nothing is nice,” I said.
A waft of Benson and Hedges smoke tickled my nose. “Can't be that bad, Ms. MacPhee.” You can always count on Mrs. Parnell to take the opposite point of view.
“Can be and is.” My frozen toes contributed to the bitchy tone in my voice. As did the news that the damage to my car would be at least two thousand dollars. Plus, my insurance company thought driving into metal gates to avoid death constituted “at fault” on Alvin's part. And I'd been indiscreet when a newswire reporter caught me on the cellphone in a weak moment on the way home. I did not want to socialize.
But avoiding Mrs. Parnell was one of those camel through the eye of a needle situations. If I hadn't owed my life to the woman, I would have told her to go to hell on the spot.
“Nothing a taste of sherry wouldn't fix,” she said evilly.
I know when I'm licked. Bite the bullet, get it over with. If I didn't want to feel Mrs. Parnell's stainless-steel eyes trained on my door for the rest of the evening, I'd have to have a sherry with her and fill her in.
“Sure. Let me ditch these frozen boots, and I'll be right over.”
I hobbled into my apartment, peeled off my outer layers and slipped my numb feet out of the boots. Mrs. Parnell's little calico cat followed me. I bent over to give her a stroke. This was one night it would have been nice to come home to a cozy, warm, well-furnished home with curtains on the windows and food in the fridge. But you can't have it all. Mrs. Parnell's calico was sure glad to see me. I'd given the calico to Mrs. Parnell as a demonstration of gratitude, but due to some outstanding issues, I generally fed the cat and offered her a place to sleep on my bed. She spent her days in my apartment and didn't even seem to hold a grudge after I took her to be fixed.
Five minutes later, I pushed open the door to 1608, and Mrs. Parnell's peach-faced love birds shrieked in alarm. I limped over to the capacious leather lounger and sank into it. Might as well have the best seat in the house. I curled up and rubbed my toes. Mrs. Parnell's apartment is furnished in leather, brushed chrome, glass, serious stereo components and, most recently, state-of-the-art computer equipment. It might not be cosy, but the seats are damned comfortable, and I prefer that to doilies and Royal Doulton.
The birds continued shrieking.
“You'd think they'd get used to the puddy tat after eight months,” I said.
“Lester and Pierre don't mind the cat. Although they find you quite undesirable.”
“Well, they have lots of company.”
She seated herself on her black leather sofa and splashed a healthy dose of Harvey's Bristol Cream into a pair of Waterford crystal sherry glasses. The cat hopped up on the glass coffee table and made herself comfortable on Mrs. P.'s open copy of The War Memoirs of David Lloyd George, Vol. II.
“Here's what the doctor ordered.” Mrs. P. handed me my drink.
“Right. This your largest glass? I think I need to soak my frozen toes in it.”
“Sherry's the best medicine for cold feet. Learned that in the trenches. The radio reported Ralph Benning was on the lam.”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. That why you're such a sour puss?” Mrs. Parnell does not have a long pointed nose for nothing.
“You got it.”
“So what is the report, Ms. MacPhee?”
“Not sure what I could tell you, Mrs. Parnell, that you wouldn't have picked up on the radio.”
“Radio's fine as far as it goes, but it doesn't give you all the background information.” Not enough to keep Mrs. Parnell going. “This Benning, wasn't he the fellow you worked to keep behind bars last spring?”
I nodded. “Unsuccessfully.”
Mrs. Parnell drained her glass with a flourish and refilled it.
I covered mine in time to prevent a serious overflow. She leaned forward. “Still no sign of him?”
“Right.”
“They say the police have deployed a tactical team.”
“They did. Because one of their officers was injured. Much more important than some pesky woman being beat up.”
“You made the same point in your radio interview. You had a spendid sound bite on the five o'clock news. Won't win you any allies on the police force.”
She was right. One of the established ways to ensure the cooperation of agencies is not to trash them as soon as someone thrusts a mike at you. It's one of those life lessons I've never mastered.
“Glorious ineptitude,” Mrs. Parnell wheezed. “Nevertheless, it is a very serious matter. What is going on behind the scenes?”
“They're tight with information in order not to alert Benning. Elaine Ekstein made sure of it. According to my sister's fiancé…”
“Ah yes, the delightful Sgt. Conn McCracken.”
“I believe you described him as a Labrador retriever at one time, Mrs. P. Anyway, I'm told they have a heavy guard on Rina Benning. The police are also watching Lindsay Grace's place.”
“Lindsay Grace? Oh yes, she was your client who testified against him. Smart and beautiful and yet somehow extremely unwise.”
“Which reminds me, may I use your phone? I want to call her, and it's occurred to me Benning could tap into my phone or cell.”
“Paranoia, Ms. MacPhee.”
“Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.”
“Words to live by. Top up your sherry?”
“Thanks, but I need to be ready to head back soon.”
I dialed Lindsay's number and reached Merv.
“She's sleeping again,” Merv whispered. “She heard an unsettling report on the news and she had to take another sedative.”
“Oh, boy.”
“They sure made a big deal about how Benning chased Alvin and Alvin crashed into the PM's gates. They've found a stolen car abandoned in a park, and they think that's the one Benning was driving. They figure he got away on foot. The radio made it sound like no one in town is safe.”
“Not far from the truth.”
“The little lady here has guts though.”
“Don't I know it.” I remembered Lindsay's testimony at Benning's trial. “Cops still in sight?”
“Yeah.”
“Great.” I wished I felt
