the news?” I asked. The other officer was female, although it was hard to tell with her police-issue winter hat. At least she didn't have the fur flap down, Fargo-style. She was sipping Tim Hortons coffee, the cup held in her leather-gloved hands. The two of them exchanged glances.
“What's he got to lose?” I said.
“Do I know you?” The driver squinted at me.
“Camilla MacPhee. Justice for Victims, Constable James. And you know damn well who I am and why I'm here.”
I'd seen him in court often enough, and he had an easy name to remember.
“Oh right. I heard you were here.”
I just smiled. Even if the Ottawa force hadn't sent Mr. Congeniality, I was glad they'd sent two officers, and they were awake and suspicious. Suspicious was just what we needed.
I was suspicious too. Not to mention worried about just how secure Lindsay's building really was. If Ralph Benning had nothing to lose before, now he had less than nothing. Getting shot by the cops was the best he could hope for. If the laws of physics permitted it, Benning would do it.
So did the laws of physics permit Benning to get into Lindsay's house? Only one way to find out. “You want to let the guy in the back know I'm coming around to check things out?” No point in getting shot myself.
Lindsay's place was an end unit. Pricey, an extra wall of windows with a panoramic view down the frozen canal. Glamorous. Security was well thought out. Floodlights eliminated most shadows. I pussyfooted along the side of the unit, feeling the eyes of the two officers on me. Motion detectors picked up my movements, and more lights flicked on. A shadowy Mrs. Parnell dogged my footsteps from window to window. I nodded. She waved her Benson and Hedges.
The back was an open courtyard with visitor parking. I peered under the small deck at Lindsay's utility entrance, but it was a pro forma exercise. I couldn't imagine Benning holed up on the petrified ground letting himself freeze to death. Although one could always hope.
In the back of the condo, I crunched in the snow, which was near the top of my Sorels. In the dark kitchen window, the tip of Mrs. Parnell's cigarette glowed.
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