“For God’s sake. Why do you want to take these chances?”
I looked at him in surprise. “Because I want to end Robin’s involvement once and for all by finding out what really happened.”
He sighed. “And if it turns out that her sister, as miserable as you say she is, is involved, do you think your friend will thank you?”
I shot him a black look, because, of course, he had identified my greatest fear.
He laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” I snapped. “You’re not supposed to laugh when someone looks at you like that.”
I expected him to stop at that, but he didn’t. After a minute of shaking, he picked up the soft apricot napkin and wiped his eyes with it.
“Hehehehehe!” he said.
“Oh shut up, you remind me of a set of teeth I once knew.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, giving his eyes one last wipe, “I know I shouldn’t have laughed like that. If anyone knows this horrible case is serious, it should be me. I’m still dealing with the brass over it. God knows if I’ll even keep my job from one day to the other. So I’d like the whole thing cleared up just as much as you would.”
“Oh, good,” I said, “so why are you laughing then, if it’s so goddam serious, as far as you’re concerned?”
“It’s just the thought of you, in your little teal suit, with the bit of cat hair on the sleeve,” he reached over and plucked it off as he was speaking, “it’s just the thought of you backing these guys into a corner. I mean, I’ve seen Wendtz, the guy’s huge, and these other guys, Large and Lumpy and McCracken…” He started to laugh again.
“Large-and-Lumpy,” I said, with a great deal of dignity, “is only one person.”
But I had lost him again.
I sat there with my lips pursed until he was finished.
“Sorry, sorry,” he wheezed a bit later. “I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the tiny little pumps. I just see you standing there waving your fist and barking at these guys, and they’re huddling…”
“Size six,” I said, “not tiny little pumps. And none of these guys were huddling. Richard, I thought you were on my side.”
“I am. Oh, I am. And once I get past the funny side, I have to make the point that you should leave it to the police. They know what they’re doing.”
“They do not know what they’re doing, or they wouldn’t be so interested in Robin as a suspect. They would not be denying that Wendtz was involved, and they would not be sitting on their butts.”
“Whoa,” he said. “I agree they’re off base about Robin. You only have to see her once to know that. She reminded me a bit of my wife, totally incapable of hurting any living thing. I bet she opens the door to escort spiders from the premises.”
I had seen Robin do that. But what was this wife thing?
I stared across the table at Richard, his Belgian chocolate eyes, still a bit damp, his lean brown hands that I usually couldn’t stop watching, his bony good looks and gentle manner. I felt a sharp pain behind my rib cage. It was time to face the music.
“Your wife?”
“Mmm,” he said.
“I have to know about your wife. I have to know, are you still married? As we speak.”
Richard stared into the crumpled peach napkin in his hand as if the answer were printed there. It took a while for the words to come.
“Yes,” he said, “we are.”
I felt my head swimming. The small, smothered rational part of my being tried to tell me it didn’t matter. I wasn’t over Paul yet. I’d only known Richard a short time, he was too old, the circumstances under which I’d met him had been too gruesome, I’d known all along he had a family. But none of it helped.
I clutched the tablecloth and held on. I kept telling myself it didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry, God, I keep saying I’m sorry today. I should have told you our story right from the start. But I thought you were just passing through. And I still find it painful to talk about. Still, that’s no excuse for not being straight with you.”
I waited, my fingers white.
“I am still married. My wife is in a psychiatric institution suffering from profound depression. Her state is catatonic. No one knows if she will come out of it. But if she does, we will be together again, so I guess I should be upfront about that. I love her and I miss her.”
I nodded, hoping my mouth didn’t twist too much.
“The doctors don’t hold out too much hope. But I hope anyway. Her facility is a good one, and it’s a little bit closer to Ottawa than to Toronto, which was why I asked for this transfer. It’s also why I’m usually out of town on my days off.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. Has she been sick long?”
“A year and a half. She never got over our daughter’s death. She just couldn’t admit it happened.”
You could feel the pain emanating from him. The lines in his face that I’d found so sexy, I now realized were mementos of anguish. I hated to ask him anything else. And yet, I knew that this moment of candour wouldn’t come again with Richard.
“Your daughter…”
“She was so beautiful, just like her mother, but she had some medical problems that affected her heart, and one day it just gave out. Twenty-four years old and everything ahead of her. Beautiful. Masters degree from University of Toronto. Engaged. A wedding planned. And one day, it just stopped.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Look, I should have told you this right away, but I had no idea that there would be anything between us.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I heard myself say, “it’s not like we made some kind of commitment or anything. A couple of meals together doesn’t make a relationship.”
“I hope we can still have lunch from time to time.”
“Of course,” I said, reaching out to pat his hand, a most un-Camilla-like gesture. “I knew you had a family, Richard, right from the start, from the photo in your office.” I didn’t bother to mention that I had hoped they’d been sliced from his life by divorce. A part of the past. “We can have lunch anytime you want. Nothing’s changed.”
But something had changed.
“Good,” he said.
“Look, before I get back to work, which is piling up, I just want to know if I can talk to the maid who was in the hallway the day of Mitzi’s death.”
He started to say something negative, I could tell.
“Maybe she heard something or saw something. Oh sure, I know the police probably questioned her, but I’d like to try again.”
Richard’s grin returned.
“Well, good luck. I hope you do better than the police. That particular employee is a very recent refugee from El Salvador. She speaks very little English, just enough to follow her instructions for work, and even there I think the housekeeper has to use a little show and tell.”
“I’m one hell of a mime.”
“I bet you are. Well, I’ll get you her name and work schedule, and you can give it a shot.”
We said good-bye in the aqua foyer, and I stepped outside and waved. Richard stood and watched me go. It