“Resist the urge to be cute,” I told Conn as I handed the receiver back to the officer. “It's cold out here.”
It took long enough, but we passed the test and scurried through the door. Merv seemed almost glad to see us, although I wouldn't want to stretch it. He settled Mrs. Parnell into an oversized armchair with a glass of sherry and her David Lloyd George biography. I perched on the ottoman. He continued to pace, long legs stretching out over the distance from kitchen to living room, living room to kitchen. Lindsay didn't even lift her head off the sofa. She lay with her eyes closed, her hair cascading over one of the large cushions.
“I think it's hitting her. He's holding Rina and is totally out of control,” Merv said.
We all went quiet. I think Rina's situation was sinking in with everyone.
“I thought he didn't know where this young lady lived,” Mrs. Parnell said after a while. “And that is why we took my car and why Ms. MacPhee wore some of my outerwear. To throw him off the scent in case he was tracking her.”
Merv met my eyes. The police had placed a heavy guard around Rina too. We both knew Benning would be after Lindsay regardless. Just a matter of time. Question was, would he find her before the police found him? And would we be able to stop him?
The doorbell pealed, loud and musical. Merv snapped to attention. Mrs. Parnell struggled to her feet. Lindsay lifted her head from the sofa. We gawked in the direction of the front door. I ran behind Merv to the foyer.
“You guard the back door in case he tries to distract us and kick his way in,” Merv said.
I thought I heard a small cry from Lindsay. I would have chewed Merv out, but he'd heard the cry too, and he was chewing himself out.
“I'll watch the rear door.” Mrs. Parnell was already lurching toward the back of the house, moving her walker menacingly.
The doorbell rang again. I don't think anyone in the room had even exhaled at this point.
“Who is it?” Merv pressed the button on the intercom. He didn't sound his tough old Mountie self. Lindsay was weeping softly in the background.
“It's me. Alvin.”
“Alvin?” I said.
“That's right, it's Alvin”
“No need to be peevish.”
“Well, what part of ‘Alvin' don't you understand, Camilla?”
“Be civil.”
“I'll be civil when I get inside.”
“Well, you'd better try before. By the way, it's nice and warm in here.”
“I never complain about the cold. You know I like this weather. It's the company I don't care for.” At least I think that's what he said. It was hard to tell with his teeth chattering.
“Okay, let him in, Merv.”
“How do we know the little peckerhead's alone?”
“What?”
“Benning could be right behind him, using him as a ploy to push his way in.”
I thought I heard another gasp from the sofa.
“Nevertheless, I'm ready for him if he does.” Mrs. Parnell had made her way back from the back door.
Lindsay raised her head from the cushion. “Press the button on the airphone and you can see who's outside.” Sure enough, the small screen showed Alvin. Next to him stood one of the officers from the unmarked car. Behind him, a cab idled.
It took a while for Merv to bite the bullet and open the door. Alvin's image was cool rather than cold. The tip of his nose looked frostbitten, which was too bad since Alvin was no beauty to begin with.
“It's okay,” I called to the officer. “He works for me. Although not very hard.”
“Hello, Lindsay.” Alvin made his icy way into the living room. I was glad I wasn't the one with nine visible earrings and a metal eyebrow ring. No doubt even Alvin's belly button chain was frozen to his skin.
Lindsay managed to smile at him. I put it down to the parrots on his shirt.
“Listen,” I said into my chirping cellphone, “this is not a good time.” I could feel everyone's eyes as I tried to disengage Alexa from her theme: my need to pick out a bridesmaid's dress. “I'll go into the kitchen for this. Since it's hard to hold a private conversation here”
Alexa continued to squeak.
“Hold that thought,” I said into the phone. “I'll head to the other room so I don't interrupt any of the fascinating conversations in here. Hold your horses, and I'll be right with you.”
Two minutes later, I was holed up in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee and a grip on myself. I tried to think about what made my sister tick so I could use the information to get her off my back.
“Alexa. I know this wedding thing is important to you.”
Squawk.
“As it would be to anybody. Of course…” I took a deep breath. You can try to beat my family or you can join them. But it's a hell of a lot easier to join them, because to the best of my knowledge they've never been beaten. I'll take my chances with politicians and defence lawyers. “What? No. I do not intend to demean the ceremony and all it stands for…what an idea…Well, Alexa, that's a lot to read into someone's reaction to shopping for a dress.”
This could be dangerous. In an unguarded moment, I might reveal to Alexa where I was and why. Ten minutes later my nearest and dearest would pile into the townhouse to help by bossing everyone around. We already had enough bosses, and I didn't want my sisters interfering with the tricky business of keeping Lindsay safe.
“Fine, I will put my money where my mouth is…Sure, I'll make a commitment to shop for the dress. Okay, okay, it doesn't have to be neutral. Yes, I understand black is out of the question. I'll do it…Yes, I know the ceremony's only two weeks away. Yes, I promise…No, not tonight. I'm tied up for the next little while.”
Who knew how long it might be before Benning's rampage would end?
“I can't help it. I'll shop with you on Saturday, and we'll find a dress you approve of.” Saturday had to be a safe bet. No way Benning could evade the entire focus of the Ottawa police much longer.
“Oh, it is not too late, Alexa. Be serious. That's more than a week before the ceremony. No, that's the absolute earliest. Well, I can't help it. Previous commitments. Yes, I realize being a bridesmaid is a commitment…No, I do not have any reason to want to ruin the ceremony for you. None at all…Alexa, you are out of control. What is it with you? The way you carry on, all this stress and anxiety, perhaps you don't want to go on with this wedding. Could that be it? Second thoughts? Cold feet? Alexa? Alexa?”
I returned to the living room to face a weird tableau. They might have been cast in bronze, statues in a public plaza. Merv stayed in a half crouch, Alvin's mouth hung open wide enough to reveal fillings. Mrs. P. leaned against her walker. I could smell the spilt sherry from her overturned glass. No one moved to wipe it from the pale hardwood floor. The sole sound was the local weather news from the radio.