The Icing on the Corpse. Mary Jane Maffini
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I drew some satisfaction from the thought of dragging Benning on a wild goose chase. I tried not to dwell on Alvin in the garage. By the time I edged up the ramp and into my spot, the car was nice and warm. Alvin was neither warm nor nice.
“If you hadn't hung up on me, I would have told you to wait for me in the office.”
I couldn't make out what he answered the way his teeth chattered.
“Head back to the office.” I clanged after him down the metal stairwell to our level. “We'll talk on the beach at Fort Lauderdale.”
“Mmmind over mmmatter.” He didn't break stride.
“All right,” I said when Alvin showed signs of recovery. “I should have made myself clear.” It was hard not to feel bad about Alvin's half-frozen state. Especially since I'd been hoping he'd exhibit an unacceptable level of insubordination and I would be forced, despite my kind and gentle nature, to fire him.
“The weather doesn't bother me.” He shook like a wet wolfhound.
I was not used to him being polite. “I told you I was sorry.”
“And I told you I'm fine. Not cold at all. Don't waste time. That maniac could be on his way to Lindsay's right now.”
“I don't see how. She made sure nobody knows where her new place is, except us.”
“Us? You mean you,” said Alvin.
“Right. Me. None of her friends. None of his friends. Not the police. No one but me and Elaine, of course.”
“He could find out.”
I shook my head. “I don't think so. Not this quickly.”
Alvin took a deep breath, but I wasn't finished.
“I'm his best bet. He'll figure I'll head straight for her. I can't take the chance that he'll follow me there.”
“Lord thundering Jesus, you need to check on her.”
“Hold that thought, Alvin. So, to finish up, he can follow me. Only I will be you. You will be me. And you can lead him to think he's on his way to Lindsay's.”
On the bright side, at least Alvin would be warm, and I wouldn't have to put his pine-boxed frozen corpse onto a train bound for his weeping mother in Sydney.
No indeedy, Alvin would be real toasty in my parka, my thinsulate-lined gloves, my red hat and my recently-warmed car as he led Ralph Benning on a fool's errand around the second coldest capital city in the world. He even had my cellphone, for what it was worth.
I tried not to dwell on how Alvin would drive without the cat s eye glasses. Sometimes you have to trust in a higher power.
I wanted to give Alvin plenty of time to drive down the ramp of the garage and back out into traffic. I figured after twenty minutes he'd be stuck on Elgin going nowhere fast. Not even Benning could find Lindsay Grace in less than an hour.
I hoped like hell I was right.
Four
My old friend Merv picked up on the first ring.
“Blessed are those on sick leave,” I said, “for they shall be available on weekdays to help their buddies.”
“Sorry, wrong number,” Merv said.
“Can you pick me up?”
“In this weather? Not if my life depended on it.” That Merv. Always one with a snappy comeback.
“Someone's life does depend on it. Pick me up at the library front door in half an hour.”
“Forget it, Camilla. I'm busy with daytime TV. And I've learned people have to respect my boundaries.”
“You're an active RCMP officer, even if you are malingering. And I know how much you like to save defenceless women at risk from dangerous men.”
Merv snorted. “Defenceless women? I love that, Camilla. You're about as defenceless as a grizzly with two cubs.”
“Not me. It's a serious and dangerous situation. I'll explain later. And, as an added bonus, I promise to respect your boundaries. You can tell me what they are when you pick me up.”
“Aw, c'mon, Camilla.” I could tell by his voice he was hooked.
“The library. Laurier entrance. Keep your front passenger door unlocked.”
“Don't tease. Tell me what's happening.”
“And bring your pajamas.”
“What?”
“Twenty-nine minutes, Merv. You're a bud.”
I stuck my nose in the Lost and Found section, otherwise known as the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. It was a great source of mismatched gloves, scarves, a couple of musty cardigans, an Icelandic sweater, four umbrellas, several handkerchiefs, paperbacks, glasses, an old raccoon hat and Alvin's lunch. I filled a bag with all the sweaters, scarves, gloves and the fur hat. I left the umbrellas. I slipped on Alvin's glasses and surrounded myself with his jacket. It was long but tight. I guessed I could learn to live with the coconut smell of the flash tan. At least we were both wearing black pants.
My teal suit would have been a dead giveaway.
The cold was like a blow.
I had kept the silk long underwear and the thermal socks, but the thin skin of Alvin's studded leather jacket and the Mickey Mouse scarf wrapped around my head were definitely too little too late.
I was heftier than Alvin, so slipping on a few sweaters would have thoroughly undermined the disguise, even if there had been room. So what, I decided. When the going gets tough, the tough get the lead out.
I concentrated on Benning, a man filled with hate and anger. A man who would express his emotions physically. Perhaps with an aluminum baseball bat, perhaps with a gun. Those thoughts propelled me down Elgin Street towards the public library, one of Alvin's regular runs.
I told myself Alvin's own mother would be fooled by my appearance. The light snowfall helped to obscure vision. It was supposed to be too cold to snow, but I guess no one told the guy in charge of precipitation. Overhead, blue and white Winterlude flags snapped in the wind.
I kept my head down to keep the sharp blowing snow from my eyes. I checked for ice patches. The leather jacket made the cold colder. How the hell did Alvin survive?
His glasses didn't help. What kind of a wacko prescription was that anyway? Typical of Alvin to have unusual eyes.