Bob was more diplomatic. “Different backgrounds?”
Reg bobbed his head knowingly. “It’s good the kids are going halfway around the world. Gives them a chance to find their own way.”
“What about the father-in-law?”
“Dead,” Reg said. “Years ago.”
“Violently,” Norah added. Sue thought she heard triumph in her voice. “That’s a deep, dark secret she never mentions.”
Sue perked up. There had been no mention of criminal links from the past. She jumped back in. “What happened?”
“No one knows, it was all hushed up.” Norah’s triumph was obvious now. Something to hold over the too-good-for-us Elena Longstreet. “It was back in Montreal. Harvey Longstreet was a law professor at McGill. Her law professor in fact before they got married. That’s all we know.”
“Probably murdered by a client who didn’t like the verdict,” Reg interjected.
“Or his legal bill. Brandon was only a baby at the time and grew up listening to what a great lawyer his father had been. But Meredith says his mother never told him a thing about how he died.”
* * *
Meredith’s room had the dishevelled, disorganized look of a temporary lodging. She had moved back there only a month earlier when her apartment lease had expired, and suitcases and boxes cluttered the floor. Decorated in frilly blues and yellows, the room had retained its little girl feel, but the stuffed animals on the shelf over the bed looked like they hadn’t been moved in years. The flowery duvet was flung back in a heap, and the sheets were rumpled as if the woman had leaped out of bed at seven a.m. and never given them a second thought. Jeans, a sweater and a bra were slung over the back of the desk chair, and socks and underwear spilled out of a suitcase on the floor. The desk was piled high with papers, and an unopened laptop perched precariously on top.
Six books teetered on the bedside table, splayed open half-read. This woman had six books on the go, Sue thought in awe as she wandered over for a peek. Multi-tasking or easily bored? Two were travel books on Ethiopia, another on family law, but one was a Mary Jane Maffini mystery. Sue warmed to the woman. Maffini’s light-hearted mysteries had lifted her own spirits many times during those awful months at the Rehab hospital, when doctors said she’d never walk again, let alone return to police work. When she was relearning to guide a spoon to her mouth.
One book, almost hidden at the bottom of the pile, piqued her curiosity. The Quiet Revolution and Beyond: Quebec in the 1970’s. A weird selection for a woman preparing for a teaching job in Africa. She picked it up and noted that it was splayed open to a chapter on McGill and the erosion of English higher education.
She turned to Norah and Reg, who were hovering in the doorway. “Any idea why she was reading about Quebec history?”
They shrugged like matching marionettes. “Maybe because of her immigration work with Haitians last year? She was helping families sponsor their relatives to come here after the quake. Lots of Haitians families settled in Montreal.” Reg paused, and a hint of a scowl crossed his face. “French connection, you know.”
“But Meredith reads everything,” Norah added. “Ever since she was a little girl. Always had one book or another with her, read on buses, walking down the street, even at the dinner table.” She waved her hand towards the IKEA bookshelf under the window, from which books stuck out every which way. No Nancy Drews, but Sue recognized two entire shelves of Hardy Boys. “I don’t even know where she got them half the time. The shelves kept filling up faster than I could give them to the rummage sale.”
“Our girl’s got a quick mind. You gotta keep it fed,” Reg countered. “She was always asking questions, and when she wanted an answer, she’d turn to a book.” He glanced at the laptop with a frown. “Or nowadays, a computer. Whenever she was home, she spent hours up here on that thing.”
“Too many hours,” Norah muttered her usual two cents.
Sue joined Bob, who had walked over to study the computer. Her gaze drifted over the desk, which was an innocent-looking clutter of travel print-outs, receipts, drafts of wedding invitations, seating plans, to-do lists. She scanned one of these for clues but nothing seemed unusual. Order corsages, speak to E about dessert? nut allergies, dye shoes. A bride trying to keep track of the massive details of a wedding. Sue shuddered at the thought. Not hers. Barefoot on a beach somewhere.
Bob opened the laptop, and they all watched as the screen lit up with icons. Dozens of them. Meredith’s laptop was as cluttered as her desk and bedside table. Despite her months being chained to the computer at work, Sue didn’t like the things. She still blundered around causing crashes and error messages.
“I’d like our computer experts to take a look at this,” Bob said. “Is that all right?”
Reg nodded. “Brandon and I have looked at it, hoping maybe there would be clues, you know? She’s got thousands of emails— saves every one, I think— but we couldn’t see anything strange.
Except all the people emailing ‘where are you?’”
“Anyone you didn’t recognize?”
Reg hesitated. “Kids these days have so many friends, her mother and I can’t keep up. She’s got one of those Facebook accounts too, but it has a password. We tried every one we could think of, but no luck.”
Bob tucked the laptop under his arm. “No problem. I’ll get it back to you as soon as possible.”
* * *
Despite her obvious effort to hide it, Sue Peters’ limp was visible from across the squad room as she and Gibbs made their way towards Green’s office. She was perspiring as if fighting pain.
She’s still not ready for full-time hours, Green thought with a twinge of guilt. He’d seen her head out with Gibbs earlier but was of two minds whether to intervene. He’d subscribed to the “don’t ask, don’t tell” school of boss management often enough himself in the past.
The grin on her flushed face soon dispelled his doubts. Whatever role she’d played, the field excursion had galvanized her. She let Gibbs give the official report of his interview, but she couldn’t resist jumping in at the end.
“From what Bob told me, it sounds like Mom wears the pants in that family, and Dad’s a lovable lump who takes his cue from her if he knows what’s good for him. They’ve still got her room decked out in frills and girly colours from her childhood, and she’s filled it with jeans, Hardy Boys, books on hiking in the third world and law. Books everywhere, but hardly a make-up kit or lacy thong in sight. She mystifies them, and although Dad loves her to pieces in spite of that, I got the feeling—I mean, Bob got the feeling Mom is less forgiving. She thinks her daughter should be more loyal, and don’t get her started on the future mother-in-law.”
Green sat back, impressed by the glimpse of the old Sue, but wondering if she and Bob had a shred of tangible evidence to back up their gut. “Any conflicts that may be relevant to the investigation? Any sign she may have got cold feet?”
“Just one small hint.” Sue laughed. “One of the millions of pieces of paper on her desk? ‘Elena’s fucking to-do list.’ But I think the worst Meredith might do is drag Brandon off to get married on a beach in Majorca.” Her grin faded. “But I’d like to keep working on the follow-up tomorrow, sir. On the phone, I mean. I think there’s more there.”
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Like what?”
“Like her computer. Apparently she spends hours on it. We should see what she’s up to.”
Green nodded. “Okay, but keep Sergeant Li informed.”
“And...”
Green raised a questioning eyebrow.
“She was reading a book about McGill.”