Bunny twisted in agitation. “No! That’s not it. They’re in my mailbox.”
Alvin said, “Maybe everyone’s getting them. Because—”
Another interruption from Bunny. “I asked all my neighbours, and no one else was getting unsigned jokes in the mail.”
I tried to be the voice of sanity. “So, let’s see if I understand. You get these jokes and then someone dies?”
“Yeah. It sounds really dumb.”
“People die every day. I read the obits, but I don’t feel responsible for them,” I said sensibly.
“But it’s like I’m the messenger.”
I said, “You mean the Bunny of Death?”
Bunny’s chiseled jaw dropped. “What?”
“She’s just kidding,” Alvin said. “She enjoys incongruity.”
“Yeah, you know,” I said, “Angel of Death. Bunny of Death.”
Bunny jumped to his feet and started to pace. “That’s horrible, Camilla. Gives me shivers. And it’s not funny. The Bunny of Death? I have a hard enough time sleeping nights as it is.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought it was funny. I was making the point that you aren’t causing people to die. Hold that thought, Bunny. Alvin, get in there and pour the tea.”
If Bunny noticed the “hold-the-thought” instruction, he didn’t follow it. “But I’m connected somehow. When one of these lawyer jokes comes, I’m going to hear about someone dying the next day.”
Alvin said, “Lord thundering Jesus.”
Bunny said, “It’s making me crazy.”
Crazy for sure and also unbelievable. “Exactly how many jokes have you received, Bunny?”
“Three. Rollie was the third.”
Alvin ruined the moment. “Three?”
Bunny nodded.
I said, “And…?”
“And then the day after each one, someone died.”
“Well, like who, Bunny?”
“Like Roxanne Terrio.”
“Roxanne Terrio? I remember that. Didn’t she die in a bicycle accident in Gatineau Park last month? That’s what I read in the paper. Anyway, Roxanne Terrio wasn’t sleazy. Wasn’t she a real estate lawyer? She didn’t have the kind of clientele that Rollie had.”
Bunny said, “Maybe she wasn’t sleazy. But I got a joke the day before she died.”
I decided to take control. “Coincidence.”
“Then there was that judge, like federal court or something. Judge Cardarelle. I didn’t know him.”
“But he was a judge, not a lawyer. Change in pattern, Bunny. I think you’re—”
Bunny shot back, “Didn’t he have to be a lawyer first?”
“Point to Bunny,” Alvin said.
“Not so fast. I don’t even remember how he died. Oh hang on, yes, it was some kind of allergy. Anaphylactic shock. Just a tragic set of circumstances.”
Bunny said, “Maybe. But I got a note.”
“What precisely do you mean you got a note?” I asked.
“Well, the day after a joke comes, I get a note. Every time. With the dead person’s name on it. How else would I know that their deaths were connected to the jokes?”
Alvin gazed at Bunny in amazement. I can’t even imagine what kind of stunned expression I had on my face.
Alvin stopped staring at Bunny and started gawking at me. “I told you there was something weird about those freaking jokes that came in the mail, Camilla.”
I would have sat down at that point, but Alvin had the chair and Bunny, the dog and the cat filled the sofa. “I thought those jokes were aimed at me,” I said.
Bunny said, “Why would they be aimed at you?”
“Because I’m a lawyer. And they’re lawyer jokes. And lots of people hate lawyers. We’re easy to hate—until you need us.”
“But you’re not dead.”
“I realize that. But maybe I’m the Camilla of Death.”
Bunny frowned. “Sometimes you’re just creepy, Camilla.”
“Tell me about it,” Alvin said, shaking his head. “But that’s weird if we got the same jokes on the same day.”
That reminded me. “Was this why you were trying to talk to me today in the courthouse, Bunny?”
“I wanted to tell you about all this, about the notes with the names on them. I was upset because I got another joke yesterday, and I thought someone else would die. They did.”
Alvin said, “What did it say?”
Bunny glanced over, looking hopeful. “It was that old one about how do you stop a lawyer from drowning.”
Alvin chuckled, “You shoot him, right?”
“It wasn’t remotely funny the first thousand times I heard it, Alvin, and nothing’s changed. Get out of the chair and pour the tea before it gets cold.”
Alvin said to Bunny, “We got that one too.”
Bunny said, “And today, I got a piece of paper with the name Rollie Thorsten on it.”
I reached for the phone. “Who are you calling, Camilla?” Alvin and Bunny said in stereo.
“Confidential source. Just take care of the tea, Alvin. Bunny’s shivering.”
Mombourquette picked up at home on the fourth ring. “Sorry, I’m not Elaine,” I said.
“That’s good, because then there would be two of you,” he said. “And I’d have to choose the other one. By any chance, do you own a watch?”
“I know it’s late, but I need to find out what killed Rollie Thorsten.”
“Why? You got an office pool going? With what’s-his- name, the world’s most dangerous assistant?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Can you help me out here? I’m really hoping Thorsten wasn’t shot first so he wouldn’t have drowned.”
“What? Are you...?”
“Just check that out, will you, Leonard and get back to me.”
After I hung up, I turned to Bunny. He was sunk in a melancholy slump. Gussie the temporary dog had his head in Bunny’s lap. Alvin had at long last produced the tea in his grandmother’s tea set and added a plate of homemade shortbread to the tray. Bunny picked up his flowered cup and saucer with one hand and absentmindedly stroked Gussie with the other.
Alvin said, “Those shortbread cookies are the traditional recipe, except that I’ve added—”
I said, “Watch out, Bunny, Gussie’s trying to get into your pocket. He likes to chew paper. I hope you don’t have any valuable documents in there. Car registration, anything like that. I speak from sad experience.”
“He chewed your car registration?”
Alvin interrupted. “It was an accident. You really should learn to let things go, Camilla.”
Have I mentioned that Gussie started out as the Ferguson family’s dog? But no point in harping.