The Icing on the Corpse. Mary Jane Maffini

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The Icing on the Corpse - Mary Jane Maffini A Camilla MacPhee Mystery

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should hop out and run the rest of the way.”

      “Better let me go. What can you do if this guy shows up?”

      “She doesn't know you. She'll never let you in.”

      “Two women up against this maniac? Your best bet is still the Ottawa Police.”

      “Watch your blood pressure. I have no choice. I'll get to Lindsay's on foot. You could be stuck here for an hour.”

      “Wait a minute. We're moving again.”

      He was right. The tow-truck lights flashed up ahead. Traffic started to inch over the bridge. I leaned back and exhaled. Three more minutes.

      “So listen, Camilla. Does the get-up relate to the situation?”

      “This? Yes, it does. At this moment, Alvin is on a mission.”

      Merv snorted. “Alvin? And speaking of blood pressure, that guy's a one-man stroke-inducing machine.”

      “Sure is. But at this moment he's risking his own life in my car wearing my parka and hat in order to draw Benning away from Lindsay.”

      “Sounds like a weird plan, even for you, Camilla.”

      “We think Benning might try to follow me to locate Lindsay. Alvin's laying false trails.”

      “I like it. Alvin could be in danger. God knows he has it coming.”

      “I don't think you should be bitter over imagined slights.”

      “Hey, he could be killed. This Benning's a time bomb, right?” Merv grinned, even when the light turned red. Probably imagining thoughts of Alvin laid out on a bed of blue satin with a wilted lily in his cold, dead paw.

      “Let me give him a call.” I kept the phone out of Merv's reach.

      Five

      Im sorry, Ms. Camilla MacPhee is not available at the moment, please leave a message after the long snore.”

      “Most humorous, Alvin.” I could afford to be snarly, since he was not dead.

      “I thought you were one of your sisters. Don't they have lives?”

      “Don't go there.”

      “They've all called. Some twice. You need to set them straight.”

      “I'll set them straight after I practice on you.”

      “Oh, he's alive?” Merv said. “Too bad. Any chance he's been tied up by Benning and is about to be dumped off the Interprovincial Bridge into the frigid but open waters?”

      “I'm sure he would have mentioned it. No, not you, Alvin. Merv inquired about your wellbeing. Tell me, any sign of Benning?”

      Alvin said, “I'm not a hundred per cent sure it's him, but there's this red Taurus. I can't shake it.”

      “Who's driving?”

      “Can't tell.”

      “It's not close enough?”

      “He's riding on my bumper. But the windows are fogged.”

      “Try and see if it's Benning.”

      “I told you, I can't see through the windows.”

      “Fine. What about the licence plate?”

      “Haven't been able to catch it so far. A big chunk of snow is plastered over it. But here he comes again.”

      “Where are you?”

      “On Sussex. I'd better turn around. Don't want to end up on the Eastern Parkway.”

      “No, you don't. Alvin? What's that screeching sound? Did my car make that noise? Alvin! Answer me.”

      “Hey, Camilla, keep your shorts on. Just a one-eighty.”

      “Don't you do one-eighties in my new Civic.”

      “Lord thundering Jesus!”

      “What?”

      “Holy crap.”

      “What happened?”

      “He turned too.”

      At this point I felt the hot blast of Merv's breath on my ear. “I'm happy I can reserve a portion of my communications budget for you to give driving instructions to earring boy, Camilla. Make sure you get the story of his life,” Merv said.

      “Might not be a long story. This is serious.”

      “No shit,” Alvin said. “Here he comes. He's gunning it.”

      I yelled. “Floor it to 24 Sussex and drive up to the gates. They have enough Mounties for a musical ride. Do you hear me?” Nothing. “Alvin?” More nothing. Followed by a crash and the sound of tearing metal. Then ragged breathing. “Alvin?” I turned to Merv. “Benning's caught him.”

      “Camilla?” A squeak on the receiver.

      “Yes!”

      “You were right. When the security guys ran out, he took off.”

      “Great. Then?”

      “And guess what? I got a partial of the licence plate.”

      “Excellent. What is it?” I turned to Merv. “He caught some of the licence.”

      To do Merv credit, he pulled out a notebook and a pen.

      “Okay, Alvin, shoot.” I strained to hear. Muffled voices buzzed on the line. Then Alvin squawked like he was having his feathers plucked.

      “Hey wait,” he said. “I don't want to get out of the vehicle. Listen. You can put the guns away. I was being chased by that guy, Benning, the one who just escaped. Don't you guys listen to the radio?”

      “Alvin's experienced first hand the high level of security at the PM's residence. Those are your boys, aren't they, Merv?”

      “Yes, indeedy. And they will check out Mr. Ponytail dressed in women's clothes, driving a vehicle registered to someone else, and then he'll try to give them his usual level of mouth.” Merv chuckled.

      While I have no problem with Alvin as the butt of a joke, I didn't want to go to the hoosegow and bail out the boy again. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had his fingerprints taken while in the midst of a Justice for Victims activity. Whenever Alvin gets arrested as a result of some action of mine, I pay for it for a long time. This time, the payment would include bodywork.

      “Hey, you can't do that. I have a right to legal advice.” Alvin's voice shot well into his higher ranges.

      “Alvin,”

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