* * *
As Danson’s TV blared and Elizabeth sat entranced, Hollis and Candace stared at one another.
“What did the detective say?”
Hollis gave herself a minute to think while she readjusted and resettled her red-framed glasses. She hated passing on the message, but Candace had every right to be told. “She wants something with Danson’s DNA and asked for his dentist’s name.”
“Oh my god! Do you suppose his statistics match those of the unidentified man? Is that why they want…” Candace’s voice petered out, as if she couldn’t bear to say the words aloud.
“I’m sure she would have asked anyone reporting a missing man the approximate age of the victim to supply those things.” Hollis made her voice sound offhand. “I expect it’s totally routine—an elimination process. Probably doesn’t mean anything.”
Candace looked doubtful.
“Do you know his dentist’s name?”
“Sure, I go to him too.”
“You have his address and number?”
“At home.”
“Why don’t you go back to the house and write everything down. I’ll pick up a couple of items here. Then you or I or both of us can take everything to the police station.”
“Dental records. My god, this is awful. Waiting will be unbearable. Doing lab tests and matching dental records—it will seem like forever before they have the answer.” Candace’s voice rose. “I don’t know if I can make it,” she said.
Elizabeth, not completely absorbed in Curious George’s antics, raised her head. “You cross?” she said conversationally.
Candace made a visible effort to pull herself together. She inhaled and exhaled slowly before she answered, “No, sweetie. But it’s time to turn off the TV and go home.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Curious George?” she said.
“Maybe later,” Hollis said. “Right now, Hollis will follow us soon. Then we’ll go for a ride.” She pointed to the new shoes. “Let’s see how well you and your new shoes go down the stairs?”
After they’d left, Hollis pulled a plastic baggie from her purse. Maybe it was a good thing Danson hadn’t taken his toiletries. She collected the hair brush from the bathroom drawer and sealed it in the bag.
Back in the living room, she turned her attention to Danson’s computer. She hated leaving before she saw his files. She temporized—maybe half an hour. No, she wouldn’t do that. This wasn’t the time to keep Candace waiting. Candace would feel better after they delivered Danson’s things to Rhona. Before she left the apartment, she verified that she’d replaced every item where it had been originally.
At Candace’s house, her Volvo station wagon idled in front of the building. Hollis parked and walked over.
Candace cracked the window open and waved a post-it note. “Here’s the name and address. Stick it in with whatever you have. I’ll drive you downtown. I don’t want to slow down the DNA testing for a single solitary moment.”
Hollis piled into the front passenger seat. Before she could slam the door, Candace squealed away from the curb. Hands gripping the steering wheel, she took her eyes off the road long enough to glance at Hollis. “Are you a praying woman?”
“I used to be married to a minister, so I should be. I’m not though.”
“I’m not either, but I’m praying there will be DNA on the brush…” She took one hand off the wheel and tapped the baggie on Hollis’s knee, “…and it won’t belong to a murdered man.”
Candace’s driving frightened Hollis. She erratically sped up and slowed to a crawl, causing following drivers to honk and wave fingers at her as they passed. Twenty long minutes later, she deposited Hollis at the police building on College Street. At the front desk, Hollis dropped off the bag with directions to send it up to Rhona.
Returning to the car, she glanced at Candace, whose face was not as white and strained as it had been.
“Hi, Howis,” Elizabeth said in a tone that suggested they’d been parted for at least a year.
Hollis swivelled cautiously and grinned at the girl strapped into her car seat in the centre of the back seat. “Hi, Elizabeth. Nice shoes.”
Elizabeth held up her foot. “Nice,” she said approvingly.
“Given what we’ve found, perhaps I should go back to Danson’s apartment and keep working. I can come to dinner another time,” Hollis said.
“Go back after dinner. Since we think Danson didn’t intend to be away, you have to talk to Poppy and see if she can provide some insights into where he might have gone. They’re close—Danson tries to take care of Poppy.” A small smile crept across Candace’s face. “Once you’ve met her, you’ll know what a challenge that is.”
“How much do you plan to share with your mother?”
“Nothing more than what she already knows—he’s missing. But Danson calls her often and pops in to see her at least once a week, and he may have told her something. As I said, he’s family oriented and always wants to look after us.”
“Poppy, Poppy, Poppy,” Elizabeth chanted.
“You’ll see her soon. She’s coming for dinner,” Candace said.
“Getti?”
“No, lasagna, but you like that.”
Hollis smiled. Candace had been right when she claimed that having a sustained conversation when a toddler was around presented challenges.
“Candace, you arrived at the apartment before I had examined Gregory’s room or gone through Danson’s files or opened his computer. We need to discover Gregory’s surname and contact him. I hate to waste a moment.”
Candace banged her fist on the steering wheel. “If you talk to Poppy, you’ll find out more than I will.”
“Why is that?”
“Because when she chooses, she manages to say nothing charmingly, and I’m not good at persuading her to talk about subjects she doesn’t want to discuss.”
Clearly dinner would be a command performance.
In the hour before dinner, Hollis walked MacTee and settled him in her apartment before she went downstairs. Candace, with Elizabeth behind her, answered her knock.
“Tee?” Elizabeth said and peered behind Hollis.
“I left him upstairs.”
“Would you get him?” Candace said. “He’s like Nana the St. Bernard in Peter Pan—he acts like a babysitter. If we’re to have a good conversation, we need him.”
When Hollis returned with MacTee, Elizabeth threw up her hands and shouted, “Tee, Tee, Tee.” The buzzer signalled the arrival of Poppy and Alberto. The door to the front hall opened, and Poppy Lafleur, in a cloud of musky scent, made her entrance, trailed by the slim, elegant Alberto.
What presence Poppy had. Tall, auburn-haired, and beautifully made-up, her clingy black jersey dress revealed a spectacular figure. Patent-leather stilettos, a chunky jade-and-silver necklace and two armloads of silver bracelets that jingled when she moved completed the elegant presentation. A subtle cloud of aromatic scent floated in with her.
Her figure was evidence that dancing burned masses of calories—probably as many as running. Hollis asked herself if she should replace running with dancing, but even as she posed the question, she knew nothing would ever make her figure like Poppy’s. Hollis’s big-boned frame would remain her inheritance from peasant ancestors.