“You’ve had your turn,” the Colonel said, pulling rank.
“That didn’t really count.”
“Things are going well. Nice enough crowd around here. But I gather you have your share of troubles. A friend can tell.”
I didn’t want to tell her how worried I’d been about her. “Got a little shock, I suppose. One of Brugel’s defence lawyers died yesterday.”
She nodded. “Sorry to hear it. But you weren’t fond of this fellow.”
“I hated him and so did everyone else, and the worst part is the trial will probably be delayed.”
“Is that so bad? Isn’t that scoundrel locked up?”
“He is. But it slows the legal process and it increases that chance that something could go wrong. And it looks like he was murdered.”
“Sorry to hear it might delay the trial.”
“Me too. But at any rate, I’m glad to see you today.”
“Every cloud has its silver lining and all that, Ms Mac-Phee.”
“Are you all right here?” I blurted out. “Are you missing your apartment?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I know that Lester and Pierre are safe with you for the time being.”
“Hmm.” Among the things I wasn’t planning to mention was the now familiar sight of the little calico cat, whose new hobby was regarding Lester and Pierre with unwavering interest.
“The big obstacle is my music, of course. They won’t let you boom Shostakovich here.”
“But you live for your music.”
“Never mind. I was able to order this online and problem solved,” she said, pointing to a tiny iPod Shuffle on a string around her neck. “I’ve been able to download most of my standbys easily enough. Fortuituously, I’d already started the project before I took that tumble. I have a docking station with speakers, although I’ve been told to keep the noise down.”
“Didn’t that cost you a fortune? You already own all this music.”
“Easy enough to upload them to my computer and then on to the iPod.”
I stared at the tiny device. Mrs. Parnell is an early-adopter. I am a late, and if I can manage it, a never-adopter. She’s always light years ahead of me on technology. I think it goes back to the days of her mysterious jobs in the federal public service. Whatever, this talent of hers has been extraordinarily helpful to me many times.
“Converting the rest will keep me occupied and out of trouble for the next while.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Certainly. You can bring a batch of my CDs any time you get a chance to pick them up from my apartment. Young Ferguson brought a box the last time. You could take those back and bring replacements. That would be very handy. Would you mind?”
“I’ll be glad to help.”
The Colonel and the Major were now hobbling back. Each one had a Harvey’s in a free hand and an expression of fierce competition in his eyes.
When they arrived and settled in, I asked, “What do you think of lawyer jokes?”
“Damned funny,” said the Colonel.
“Deserve everything they get. Bunch of crooks,” added the Major.
Mrs. Parnell fixed them each with a withering glance. “Ms MacPhee is a lawyer. And she is definitely no joke.
Why do you ask, Ms MacPhee?”
“Someone is sending me jokes in the mail. Today, one of the lawyers on the trial I was attending died yesterday in the same way as the joke. It’s kind of creepy. I wondered how people felt about that sort of thing.”
“Depends,” the Colonel said, “on whether you’ve ever been on the wrong side of a lawyer. Haven’t been myself, but I can imagine what it’s like. Had a few colleagues who found out the hard way, come divorce time.”
“All you have to do is listen to the news,” the Major added, shaking his cane in my direction. “Makes you mad enough to horsewhip some of these people. They get away with everything. Subvert the course of justice if you ask me.”
The Colonel nodded. “That trial we’ve been hearing so much about. Tell me we shouldn’t bring back hanging. And the fellow who defended him? Should be strung up too.”
I said, “Well, he’s dead, if that’s any consolation.”
The Major thought for a few seconds and said, “I think it might be.”
“Cause for celebration if you ask me,” the Colonel added.
Mrs. Parnell raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that. Sure you won’t join us, Ms MacPhee?”
“Another time. I just dropped in to see how you were doing. I’m missing your company.”
“I’m settling in well,” Mrs. P. said. “Plenty of esprit in this old corps, as you can observe.”
“I’ll head back to your room and get the CD box. I’ll bring replacements as soon as I can.”
“Pub hours are two to three, daily,” Mrs. Parnell said.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She’d already resumed her story before I reached the door. The Colonel and the Major went back to being riveted.
Why did the lawyer cross the road? -To sue the chicken on the other side.
Back at the ranch, Alvin was making progress. Most of the progress involved lugging banker’s boxes full of files from the third bedroom to the basement. The rest involved shredding documents. I smiled approval. “No need to waste money on the gym,” I said encouragingly.
“Very funny,” he said, or something like it. His voice was kind of muffled.
“Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll be making a list of the people who hated Rollie Thorsten. That’s work too, you know.”
By the time Alvin got the last box down the two flights of stairs, I had twenty-eight names on the list. Mine was among them. Fair’s fair. So was Mombourquette’s. Others worked in the justice system in some capacity. Some of the people who would have had the best reasons to hate Thorsten were dead. People like Laurie Roulay. I put her name down anyway. To my knowledge, except for two children who survived her, she hadn’t had any relatives who cared much about her one way or the other. Certainly she’d had no one to turn to when Rollie Thorsten laid her soul bare in court. I’d looked after her funeral arrangements myself. I’d been happy for once to have had that pile of ill-gotten gains that weighs so heavily on me. The children had wept. Even the CAS workers had cried. Alvin had actually sobbed, although he’d only met Laurie once. I may have shed a tear myself, and I distinctly remember Mombourquette’s nose being pinker than usual. But that was it for Laurie, a girl with tattoos, a girl who had kicked crack cocaine to make a new life as a mother, a girl who had once lived on the streets, but who had the guts to testify against Brugel.
Of course, Brugel was on a different list: that one contained people who might benefit from Rollie Thorsten’s bizarre lawyer-joke death, a list of one. I couldn’t really think of anyone else.
“There have to be more,” I said pensively to Alvin as he staggered up from the basement.
I thought he muttered something about trading places.
I still wasn’t that happy with