I couldn't tell Alvin I had no recollection of volunteering either of us to work on an ice sculpture for Winterlude. None. It was hard to explain, but Elaine can have that effect. “Lighten up, Alvin, it should be a lot of fun.”
“If it's so much fun, don't let me deprive you of any of it.”
“Listen, Alvin…”
“The last time I listened to you I had my nose mashed against the gate at 24 Sussex. Then I met two large Mounties with small brains and big guns. I don't think I'll listen again. Thanks anyway.”
I decided it was better not to mention that Alvin's copious nosebleed after the accident had spelled the end of my parka. “Wait a minute. I thought you wanted to help Lindsay.”
“I did want to help Lindsay. But I'm not sure how much it helped her to toss me to the wolves.”
“I'm sure Lindsay will appreciate what you did. It was your way to combat Benning. And that's what this ice sculpture event is all about. You have to admit it's a worthwhile cause. Women Against Violence Everywhere plans to raise awareness of issues of domestic violence with it.”
“Raise this.” Alvin lifted his skinny middle finger.
Seven
It was pushing five thirty and dark again when Elaine dropped me at my apartment building. My lousy mood was compounded by the fact that Elaine and Alvin had sulked all the way to Alvin's place. But that was small potatoes compared to the fact that Ralph Benning remained on the loose.
Since I hadn't eaten all day, my plan was to snatch a bite, take a quick bath, then toss a few essentials into a suitcase. With Benning still at large, Merv and I would take shifts on alert throughout the night at Lindsay's. I didn't see how Benning could get past the police guard, but if he was going to make an attempt, he'd almost certainly do it in the dead of night. Having to do guard duty at Lindsay's relieved me of ice sculpture commitments, but it would take more than that to let me relax.
I skulked into the elevator and headed for the sixteenth floor.
Some people you don't want to run into after a hellish day. My neighbour, Mrs. Parnell, is at the top of the list. Mrs. Parnell had not learned to mind her own business in the first seventy-seven years of her life, and I didn't have much hope she'd start now. I barreled down the long hallway with my head down. I smelled the smoke before I spotted the glowing tip of her cigarette.
“Ah, Ms. MacPhee.” Mrs. Parnell leaned forward on her walker. “What an outfit. I must say, you look even less fashionable than usual. Still, it is nice to see you.”
“Nothing is nice,” I said.
A waft of Benson and Hedges smoke tickled my nose. “Can't be that bad, Ms. MacPhee.” You can always count on Mrs. Parnell to take the opposite point of view.
“Can be and is.” My frozen toes contributed to the bitchy tone in my voice. As did the news that the damage to my car would be at least two thousand dollars. Plus, my insurance company thought driving into metal gates to avoid death constituted “at fault” on Alvin's part. And I'd been indiscreet when a newswire reporter caught me on the cellphone in a weak moment on the way home. I did not want to socialize.
But avoiding Mrs. Parnell was one of those camel through the eye of a needle situations. If I hadn't owed my life to the woman, I would have told her to go to hell on the spot.
“Nothing a taste of sherry wouldn't fix,” she said evilly.
I know when I'm licked. Bite the bullet, get it over with. If I didn't want to feel Mrs. Parnell's stainless-steel eyes trained on my door for the rest of the evening, I'd have to have a sherry with her and fill her in.
“Sure. Let me ditch these frozen boots, and I'll be right over.”
I hobbled into my apartment, peeled off my outer layers and slipped my numb feet out of the boots. Mrs. Parnell's little calico cat followed me. I bent over to give her a stroke. This was one night it would have been nice to come home to a cozy, warm, well-furnished home with curtains on the windows and food in the fridge. But you can't have it all. Mrs. Parnell's calico was sure glad to see me. I'd given the calico to Mrs. Parnell as a demonstration of gratitude, but due to some outstanding issues, I generally fed the cat and offered her a place to sleep on my bed. She spent her days in my apartment and didn't even seem to hold a grudge after I took her to be fixed.
Five minutes later, I pushed open the door to 1608, and Mrs. Parnell's peach-faced love birds shrieked in alarm. I limped over to the capacious leather lounger and sank into it. Might as well have the best seat in the house. I curled up and rubbed my toes. Mrs. Parnell's apartment is furnished in leather, brushed chrome, glass, serious stereo components and, most recently, state-of-the-art computer equipment. It might not be cosy, but the seats are damned comfortable, and I prefer that to doilies and Royal Doulton.
The birds continued shrieking.
“You'd think they'd get used to the puddy tat after eight months,” I said.
“Lester and Pierre don't mind the cat. Although they find you quite undesirable.”
“Well, they have lots of company.”
She seated herself on her black leather sofa and splashed a healthy dose of Harvey's Bristol Cream into a pair of Waterford crystal sherry glasses. The cat hopped up on the glass coffee table and made herself comfortable on Mrs. P.'s open copy of The War Memoirs of David Lloyd George, Vol. II.
“Here's what the doctor ordered.” Mrs. P. handed me my drink.
“Right. This your largest glass? I think I need to soak my frozen toes in it.”
“Sherry's the best medicine for cold feet. Learned that in the trenches. The radio reported Ralph Benning was on the lam.”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. That why you're such a sour puss?” Mrs. Parnell does not have a long pointed nose for nothing.
“You got it.”
“So what is the report, Ms. MacPhee?”
“Not sure what I could tell you, Mrs. Parnell, that you wouldn't have picked up on the radio.”
“Radio's fine as far as it goes, but it doesn't give you all the background information.” Not enough to keep Mrs. Parnell going. “This Benning, wasn't he the fellow you worked to keep behind bars last spring?”
I nodded. “Unsuccessfully.”
Mrs. Parnell drained her glass with a flourish and refilled it.
I covered mine in time to prevent a serious overflow. She leaned forward. “Still no sign of him?”
“Right.”
“They say the police have deployed a tactical team.”
“They did. Because one of their officers was injured. Much more important than some pesky woman being beat up.”
“You made the same point in your radio interview. You had a spendid sound bite on the five o'clock news. Won't win you any allies on the police force.”
She was right. One of the established ways to ensure the cooperation of agencies is not to trash them as soon as someone thrusts a mike at you. It's one of those life lessons I've never mastered.
“Glorious ineptitude,” Mrs. Parnell wheezed. “Nevertheless, it is a very serious matter. What is going on behind the scenes?”
“They're tight with information in order not to alert Benning. Elaine Ekstein made sure of it. According to my sister's fiancé…”
“Ah yes, the delightful Sgt. Conn McCracken.”
“I believe you described him as a Labrador retriever at one time, Mrs. P. Anyway, I'm told they have a heavy guard on Rina