The cold was like a blow.
I had kept the silk long underwear and the thermal socks, but the thin skin of Alvin's studded leather jacket and the Mickey Mouse scarf wrapped around my head were definitely too little too late.
I was heftier than Alvin, so slipping on a few sweaters would have thoroughly undermined the disguise, even if there had been room. So what, I decided. When the going gets tough, the tough get the lead out.
I concentrated on Benning, a man filled with hate and anger. A man who would express his emotions physically. Perhaps with an aluminum baseball bat, perhaps with a gun. Those thoughts propelled me down Elgin Street towards the public library, one of Alvin's regular runs.
I told myself Alvin's own mother would be fooled by my appearance. The light snowfall helped to obscure vision. It was supposed to be too cold to snow, but I guess no one told the guy in charge of precipitation. Overhead, blue and white Winterlude flags snapped in the wind.
I kept my head down to keep the sharp blowing snow from my eyes. I checked for ice patches. The leather jacket made the cold colder. How the hell did Alvin survive?
His glasses didn't help. What kind of a wacko prescription was that anyway? Typical of Alvin to have unusual eyes. In spite of the vision problem, I hurtled along the sidewalk. I must have been clocking six miles an hour when I collided with someone solid and stubborn. The impact knocked the breath right out of me. Visions of lawsuit danced in my brain. I could see the headlines: negligent lawyer mows down elderly woman, claims temporary blindness. My ears rang.
“I am so sorry,” I blurted. “I hope you aren't hurt.”
The person was still standing, although I wasn't sure how. I took off the glasses for a better look. Only after I'd apologized to the parking meter did the full impact of the damn cat's eyes glasses sink in. I glanced around. All I saw were faces half-hidden by parkas, scarves and tuques. No one cared what I did.
I reapplied the glasses, this time pushing them halfway down my nose, and shouldered on down Elgin.
When I hit the Main Branch of the Ottawa Public Library, I scurried through the front door and up to the Reference area. Alvin spends a lot of his time on site, doing errands for Justice for Victims—but I suspect also putting the moves on some of the junior staff. Thanks to my tax dollars hard at work, the library was warm.
I asked for a couple of back issues of magazines. The girl at the counter blinked at me. “Do you have a brother?”
“Weird, people keep asking me.” I carried my mags to the table with the best view of the staircase. Ten minutes later, I was convinced Ralph Benning had not followed me to the Reference Department. I headed to the ladies' room.
Five minutes later, Alvin's jacket, scarf and glasses were in the bag, and I was redefined. I had a quick drink at the fountain to rinse the taste of old clothes out of my mouth. But the dusty, musty, bottom of the drawer residue was the least of my problems.
The girl at the desk didn't even blink as I slunk past. She also didn't ask if I was related to the guy in the Mickey Mouse scarf.
Merv had been under the weather since my friend Robin had headed off to spend a month in Mexico with another man. That's a different story, but I wondered if it were connected to Merv's spell of bad health. It doesn't do to coddle middle-aged heartbroken Mounties, especially not tall, lanky, good-looking ones. I was doing him a favour, I decided, as I wrenched open the door of his car.
“Hey, you, what are you doing? Get the hell out.”
“Morning, Merv. Nice to see you too.”
“Yeah, yeah. What's going on, Camilla? Make it important.”
“What ever happened to ‘Good Morning, Camilla, you look lovely today?'”
“First of all, it's not a good morning and second, you look unlovely.” He eased into the traffic on Laurier Street. “What's with the get-up? Costume party? Bag lady convention?”
“I have a strategic reason for the disguise. Turn left on O'Connor.”
“Who elected you queen, Camilla? What the crap is going on? Didn't you buy a new Civic in the fall?” In all the time I'd known him, Merv had always been crotchety, so I let it roll off. “Start talking.”
I might have felt some apprehension if I hadn't known how Merv felt about pale, delicate women who find themselves in desperate situations. You could count on a man who still wore Old Spice after twenty years.
“Do you remember the Benning case?” I said.
“How could I forget it? It was all over the media.”
“Do you remember Benning's girlfriend, Lindsay Grace?”
“The one who testified against him? Sure. Why?”
“Have you listened to the news today, Merv?”
“Nah. I'm watching Rosie and Jenny and the other girls.”
“Did you hear Benning broke out?”
“Broke out of what? Isn't he some kind of psycho?”
“He's a psycho all right. He was on his way to court, his sentencing hearing. He shot a cop, and he's on the run. And he'll be after her.”
“Shot a cop? That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“We must have passed twenty Ottawa cruisers. And plenty of unmarked ones. They'll get him. Wouldn't want to be him when they do.”
“He won't be easy to catch. He's not going to hitch a lift in a police cruiser. He doesn't look like a psycho. He has money and connections. He'll have a plan. He'll hide out, and he'll go after her.”
“Money and connections?”
“The money's supposed to be from drugs, big-time stuff. He's a career criminal. People say he's such a loose cannon even the major suppliers and dealers are scared shitless of him.”
“Jeez. That's bad. I'll give you a hand, but you know the Ottawa force has jurisdiction. They have communications, backup, they'll call in a tactical team. That's the kind of protection she needs.”
“They're not at Lindsay's place, Merv.”
“Be serious.”
“I am deadly serious. Head right down O'Connor and cross over at the Pretoria Bridge. She's on Echo Drive.”
“Holy shit. Why isn't Ottawa covering this Lindsay Grace?”
Good question. “The last time Benning jumped the fence, he had help, and he always was one step ahead of the police. Rumour is he had inside help.”
“Crap.”
“That's the buzz. Might explain why it's been so hard to keep him behind bars, and why he was able to break loose today.”
“Where'd you hear that?”
“P. J. Lynch has been talking about it.”
“Oh.”
“Right. Not some wacko. P. J. s a serious guy, and if he believes Benning has an inside man, my money says he's right. Lindsay thinks so too. But Benning never let on who the inside connection was.”
“Yeah, yeah. You still need the Ottawa guys.”
“I realize that. Elaine Ekstein will hit the police brass. She's probably there already. She'll make sure the address is given out on a need-to-know basis. They'll cooperate with Elaine if they know what's good for them.