soon as you turn onto Echo then.”
Merv started to hum, not altogether an auspicious sign. Or a pleasant sound. I stuck a finger in my ear.
“Alvin. Don't argue with the officers.”
More squawks.
“Listen to me. Put one of them on the phone immediately or your leather jacket's history.”
Merv made the left onto Colonel By Drive this time and proceeded north with unnecessary caution.
“Get the lead out,” I said to Merv. And then to Alvin, “Goddamn it, do what you're told, this once. Oh, sorry, officer, I thought I was speaking to my colleague. My name is Camilla MacPhee, and I am a lawyer with Justice for Victims. That deranged creature is in my employ. And I can assure you he was in grave danger. He has a partial licence plate number and a description of the car to be relayed to the Ottawa police. What? Excuse me? I can't believe this. Wait a minute.” I turned to Merv. “This guy's a real comedian. You want to speak to him?”
“Not sure I want to be associated with either of you,” Merv said.
“I'm glad you think it's funny. I think Alvin's been arrested.”
“Again? Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.”
But he did take the phone. “Merv Morrison here. Who's talking? Right. Sure. No shit, he's for real, believe it or not. Me? Yeah, I'm on the mend. Couple weeks. What? No, no. I'm with an acquaintance. Right. I know you got procedures. Hey, no problem. Take it easy.”
I would have killed him on the spot, but we'd reached the town house Lindsay Grace called home. “Park here,” I said.
Merv was still chuckling. I decided not to react. I needed to keep my mind free. On the other hand, I did need to know what to do about Alvin. Plus the usual when, where and how.
“They'll take him to the Leomont Building at Vanier and McArthur. And they'll impound your vehicle. You'll get him out, but they'll need to assure themselves he poses no risk to the Prime Minister or other august bodies.”
“I'll have to help him.”
“I wouldn't rush. I figure on five different jurisdictions involved in this baby, if you count the Prime Minister's Protection Detachment and National Security Intelligence. He'll be their guest for most of the day. City cops will be the least of his problems.”
“Okay, one challenge at a time. This is Lindsay's place.”
Alvin would have to wait. Now it was time to deal with Lindsay Grace. Was it possible Benning had found her before he pursued Alvin? Logic said no. But logic and Benning don't mix.
* * *
Merv said, “Catch that view of the canal. She must be rolling in cash.”
“Do you think that matters when someone wants to kill you, and all you can do is hide out and pray?”
Merv kept his mouth shut, but he checked out the wrought-iron fencing, the solid brass details on the doors and the landscaping designed to look appealing even when covered with snow.
“Even so,” he said. He can be the most stubborn person in the world sometimes, despite some serious competition from my relatives. “Must be four hundred thousand minimum for this baby. Echo Drive, two minutes to downtown. Are you kidding, half a million. Did this Benning bankroll this?”
I jabbed the doorbell. “Lindsay Grace was a hotshot financial analyst, a high flyer, when she hooked up with Ralph Benning.”
“So not stupid.”
“No, that's the tragedy. She's a bright woman who fell into the wrong relationship.”
Merv snorted. “How smart could she be if she teamed up with this character? Didn't he serve time for spousal assault?”
I tried again. The bell pealed loud enough for us to hear it outside. It couldn't be missed inside the house. “About as smart as the other women he was with. His wife taught high school physics. Not any more, of course. Her face isn't easy for people to feel comfortable with. And his other women have been smart and assured.” I gave the bell one final vicious poke.
Merv shook his head. “Makes you wonder.”
It sure did. I took a deep breath. “Time to go in.”
“No way. You won't catch me breaking and entering. I have my pension to think of.”
“Actually, I thought I'd use the keys.”
I unlocked the Yale and the deadbolt and inched the door open. I had thirty seconds to get the jump on Lindsay's alarm system. I punched in the code and felt a flush of relief. Merv and I stepped into the foyer and stamped our boots on the marble floor. I stopped long enough to reset the alarm, then called out. “Lindsay?” I thought I heard a small noise from upstairs. “You hear that?”
Merv tilted his head. “Music.”
I slipped out of my icy boots. I'd kept my mind off my frozen feet on the ride over. Merv ditched his size thirteens. I stepped into the living room. One small benefit from Alvin's close call: not even Benning could be in two places at one time.
So why had I been so frantic? Because, Benning, as the police now knew, appeared to be able to breeze through walls.
“He can't find her here,” I said, trying to convince myself.
“I don't see why not.” Merv stepped up right behind me. “How long has she lived here?”
“Since September. But she was discreet. No one knows. Unlisted phone number.”
As we checked the living room, Merv said, “If the guy has any kind of connections, he could tap into the hydro service or find the address on her driver's licence through MOT.”
I knew that too.
Merv seemed impressed by several bronze sculptures, the rather nice abstracts on the wall and the large arrangement of fresh and fragrant lilies as we passed through the dining area. My sisters would approve. The only whiff in my dining area was from my running shoes.
The kitchen was empty too. On the counter was a plate with a half-eaten slice of toast. A cup with cold coffee. The radio was tuned to CBC's Radio One. I touched the espresso maker on the granite counter. Still lukewarm. So Lindsay had been home that morning, and chances were she'd been alone.
I took a deep breath and retraced my steps. I hesitated at the base of the stairs then hurled myself up. Wimpiness was never one of my problems. But if you've ever stumbled over a dead body, you don't feel the same about closed doors.
“Lindsay?” I called out, in case she was afraid of Benning creeping up the stairs. “It's Camilla and a friend. We want to make sure you're all right.”
Upstairs the door to the guestroom stood open, as did the door to the master suite. The bed had been slept in, but the elegant pewter-coloured bedding was merely folded back, no careless jumble of sheets for Lindsay. No sign of a struggle. No blood.
From behind the closed
