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.
If it hadn't been for the fog of breath on the window, I might not even have spotted the officer in the unmarked car, out of view. He'd spotted me though. I ambled over to the driver's side. He opened the window. I was glad the police were covering the house so well, even if he didn't look pleased to see me.
“Did you hear Benning killed his wife?” I said.
He nodded.
“We don't want another tragedy. You tracking the cars coming in and out? You have to inform us if you see anything suspicious. Here's a cell number.” I gave him Merv's.
“I think you're suspicious.” He wrinkled his nose. Might have been from residual mothballs on the beaver coat.
“Funny.” I turned and headed back. I stopped at the cruiser out front first.
“Can I do something else for you?” Officer James asked.
“Sure, you can make sure we all stay off the major media by keeping my client alive.” You can always tell when people bite their tongues. “Let's not forget Benning slipped past a bunch of your boys at his wife's place.”
The faces hardened.
“He has the same grudge against Lindsay Grace,” I said. “Make sure you keep her alive.”
“We have round-the-clock surveillance. We know what he's capable of. He shot an officer, remember? We want him just as badly as you do.”
“What about the roof? How do you know he won't come across the roof, rappel down the side or back of the house and cut his way into one of the windows? Or cut a hole through the roof itself?”
Their eyes met again. I thought the second officer mouthed the word “crackpot.”
“Trust me,” I said, “Nothing's too farfetched in this case.”
“We're on the job here. You head back inside and let us do it.”
“Make sure you're up to it. One woman dead in a day is more than enough. You people didn't keep him away from her.” I figured making them mad would keep their adrenaline up nicely, make them more alert.
The driver blurted, “She gave them the slip.” His colleague's coffee slopped as she reached over to touch his arm. A gentle way of saying, shut up you fool.
If I'd had coffee, I would have slopped it too. “She gave them the slip? No way she would have wanted to elude her police protection. I don't believe it.”
The woman officer spoke as she mopped up her coffee. “Believe what you want. If you want news updates, turn on your radio. That's not our job.” She reached over and the window slid up.
I stomped back to the condo, trying to imagine why Rina Benning would flee from safety straight into the arms of death.
* * *
Mrs. Parnell was the only person in the motley crew guarding Lindsay who made any sense. I had to admire her. But even so, by eight-thirty that evening I was tired of her company. There's a limited amount of time you want to spend in someone else's kitchen while your neighbour expounds on her hobby, the allied leaders of World War II.
On the other hand, Churchill and Rommel were fascinating compared to Alvin and Merv, still fawning over Lindsay in the living room. I did my damnedest to tune out their voices. At least I didn't have to listen to their stomachs growl as the traditional meal hour came and went. I'd already checked Lindsay's cupboards, fridge and freezer. Except for the quality coffee, they were enough to give empty a good name. Unless you counted the two slices of bread still left in the bag and the pat of butter on a pretty plate on the dairy shelf. Under the circumstances, take-out seemed ill advised. It seemed wiser to get some food into the house, to keep up Lindsay's strength.
I felt a moment's twinge about having gotten my sisters in such a snit. Otherwise I might have been able to call one of them to bring over provisions without revealing why. Oh well. Mrs. Parnell never appeared to eat anyway. I resigned myself to a gurgling stomach until the morning arrived or Benning was captured. Perhaps we could arrange for the next shift of cops to bring us some doughnuts.
In the meantime, Mrs. Parnell and I sat in the kitchen and busied ourselves trying to find out more about Rina Benning. With the portable TV relocated and a pair of radios set to different stations, we had been able to determine a body had indeed been found, apparently bludgeoned. Despite the early blurting of her name, we had no official confirmation. The police and the Coroner have procedures.
The media are inventive at skirting procedures, but P. J. was still incommunicado. The evening dragged on. Mrs. Parnell found herself out of sherry. I found myself pacing.
She checked every cupboard in the kitchen and came up empty. It seemed to make her critical. “You know your problem, Ms. MacPhee?”
“I'm too polite?”
“You are too driven. You have to learn to focus more and relax.”
“Thanks.”
“Focus is the first principle of effective surveillance.”
Not for the first time, I gawked at her. The long, elderly body, the sharp nose, the startling ears, the perpetual cigarette, tip glowing. The wispy hair disappearing into a bun, the gnarled knuckles. “It is?”
“Of course, Ms. MacPhee. Check any basic surveillance manual.” I didn't have a basic surveillance manual. And I was surprised to hear Mrs. Parnell did. Although it wasn't the strangest thing about her by a long shot.
“You have a manual on surveillance?”
“Covert operations. You could learn a lot from them, Ms. MacPhee. A bit of patience would do wonders for you.”
“I don't have time for it.”
“Blood, sweat and tears,” she said, “but no sherry. I will try the dining room. I think I saw a cabinet there. You keep your ears open for breaking news.”
“You should stay put. If Benning shows up, we'd be better off cold sober.”
“Speak for yourself. I am always ready to fight.”
* * *
“Right, Elaine.” I held Merv's cellphone away from my ear. “I'm glad it's going well.
