Coming Unclued (29 page)

“Sorry,” yelled Julie. “Almost hit a bike courier.”

“Well I almost peed myself! Take it easy.”

“My friend Beatrice — did you ever meet her?” asked Rose. “She had the worst problem with peeing herself. Got so she couldn’t even laugh without having a tinkle. She’s in diapers full time now. Take it from me — practice your Kinkels.”

“Kiegals,” said Julie.

“I’ve had a lot of liquid,” I said. “What about Annette? How exactly are we going to find out what she knows?”

“We’re going to break her through the careful escalation of penetrating interrogation,” said Julie. “I can taste that Chicken Chow Mein already.”

My back was getting so cramped that I decided to get off the floor and curl up on the back seat.

“Stay down,” hissed Julie. “What we are doing here is incredibly stressful. The sweat is literally trickling down my back I’m so nervous.”

“Take a deep breath,” said Rose. “Do you want me to drive?”

“Thank you, no,” said Julie.

“I didn’t know you drove,” I commented to Rose.

“Haven’t driven a car in a long time, but I could do it in a pinch,” she responded. “Must have been forty years ago, I was up in Creemore visiting my sister and smacked into a pig on one of those dirt roads. I was pretty shaken up. Seeing that sweet little curly tail lying there on the ground did me in. Haven’t been behind the wheel since. Put me off pork for a while too.”

“We’re almost there,” said Julie. “I’ll be fine.”

A few minutes later we pulled to a stop. I peaked out the window to see we were on a wide leafy street full of large brick homes. Why did everyone I worked with live so much better than me?

“A spot right in front of the house,” said Julie with satisfaction.

“So what’s happening?” I asked. “Am I just going to lie here while you go in? How will you know what to ask her?” I lay on the seat, staring out the back window at the blue sky, considering all the options.

“Here’s the plan,” I said. “Julie you call me and leave your cell on in your pocket so the line is open and I can hear what’s going on. I will whistle into my phone if I have something important to tell you and you can go into the bathroom or something to talk to me. How does that sound to you?”

“You don’t think this highly intelligent woman is going to wonder why there is a whistling sound coming from my pocket?”

“Tell her it’s the ring tone to your phone. Whatever. You’re British. She’s expecting eccentric. Hoping for it probably.”

Julie leaned back against the headrest with a dramatic sigh. “Okay,” she said. “I am now calling you.”

My phone rang and I reached into Andrew’s coat pocket.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” said Julie. “I’m up here in the front seat.”

“Yes, I know,” I said into the phone.

“Rose and I are going in now.”

“Thanks for keeping me updated.”

“You’re welcome,” said Julie. “Rose you ready?”

“Rarin’ to go,” said Rose in a cheery voice. “I always wanted to try acting.”

“This is my life!” I snapped. “My life is on the line. Try to remember that.”

“Honestly Val,” said Rose. “Watch your temper. I’m missing aquafit for this excursion. Show a little gratitude.”

The doors slammed and I was alone in the car, staring at the ceiling and holding the cell phone like a lifeline. A blanket would have been nice. Julie was recklessly unprepared for a Canadian winter.

“Roger One can you hear me?” asked Julie.

“I can hear you,” I yelled into the phone. “Remember to be very British and very nosy. This might be our last chance.”

“Roger that,” said Julie. “Over and out.”

At this point she was clearly humoring me, putting in time until I finally gave up and surrendered to the police. And who could blame her? I could hear the sound of one of them rapping on Annette’s door. “C’mon,” Rose said. “I’m freezing my butt off out here.” Not a good start. Frozen butt talk wasn’t going to loosen Annette up. I could hear the faint sound of the door being opened.

“Hello,” said Julie. “Miss Aylward ? Such a pleasure. I hope we’re not late. The traffic was simply ghastly. I’m Margaret Spenser and this is my colleague, Helen (pause) Keeler.”

Helen Keeler. Honestly.

“Won’t you come in?” I heard Annette say. The car was getting cold. It would soon be colder inside the car than it was outside. “I have tea set out for us,” said Annette.

“You shouldn’t have,” protested Julie.

“It was nothing. Just a few cucumber sandwiches and a sponge.”

“A sponge?” said Rose. “I hope that tastes better than it sounds.”

“So good of you,” said Julie. “I’m just knackered. All this Christmas rushing about. A spot of tea and a slice of sponge would be simply splendid right now.”

A spot of tea did sound splendid right now. Something to warm me up.

“Oh my, what a lovely room.” I heard Julie say. “And look at all those spoons. Gracious. What an impressive collection.”

“I’ve been collecting them for thirty-five years,” said Annette. “They’re my passion.”

Collectible spoons were her passion?

“Delightful,” said Julie.

“Simply divine,” said Rose. “I collect knives myself. Do you have any interest in those?”

“No — just the spoons. Won’t you sit down?” asked Annette. “Sally, move over. I’m so sorry, the cats think they own the place.”

“No bother,” said Julie. “I adore cats. How many do you have?”

Julie does not adore cats.

“Just the four,” said Annette. “Sally here, and Beatrix — you won’t meet her, she’s terribly shy. And Angus and Ivy.”

A cat hoarder. I knew it!

“Tea?” said Annette. “And a slice of sponge?”

There were murmurs of assent and the sound of cups and spoons tinkling.

“I don’t see any pictures of a husband,” said Rose. “Single are you?”

“Yes, I’m a spinster,” said Annette with a little laugh that said, ‘Of course I’m not really what you would call a spinster.’

“Ahh,” said Rose. “An old maid. Good for you.”

Good for you. What did that mean?

“We’re so happy,” said Julie, “to have the opportunity to talk with you. We so much want to celebrate our wonderful volunteers who give so much of themselves. Oh my, this sponge is gorgeous.”

Was Annette really falling for this? Gorgeous?

“You’re so kind,” said Annette.

She was falling for it.

“Perhaps we should get down to this,” said Julie. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“Take as much time as you need,” said Annette. “I’ve recently retired so I’m a free woman. Nothing but time from now on.”

“Retired you say? Was that a sudden thing?” said Rose. “And just let me say this sponge really is gorgeous. Not at all what I expected. Delightful. You must give me the recipe.”

“Retired?” asked Julie, clearly trying to take control of the conversation. “Retired from what may I ask? Our volunteers come from all walks of life as you can imagine.”

“I was an executive assistant,” replied Annette. “To a wonderful man. Harold Potter? You may have seen him in the paper. Murdered. Horrible.”

Excellent. What an opening. Keep digging.

“I could do with another piece of that sponge,” said Rose.

Sponge? That’s what she was thinking about?

“I did hear about that,” said Julie, in a firm voice. “Terrible. I hear they’ve accused one of the secretaries.”

“Secretary!” said Annette in a voice imbued with contempt. “Hardly. She did a bit of data entry, some photocopying, nothing of any importance and nothing very well. A complete incompetent. Sally here could have done the job better than she did.”

“I know the type,” said Rose. “A real slacker. Every office has one. So you figure she did kill him?”

“Of course she did. I’m not a bit surprised. Everyone knew there was something not right about her. The only surprise was that Harry was at her apartment in the first place. I can’t imagine what he was thinking.”

“You know men,” said Rose. “Always drawn to the trashy ones. Marry the Madonna and cheat with the whore.”

“Were they having some kind of relationship?” asked Julie. “I was under the impression he was a married man.”

“Married!” said Annette in a scornful voice. “If you can call it that. He did have a wife, that’s true.”

“Well that’s what they usually mean by married,” said Rose. “What exactly was your relationship with the deceased? Anything special going on there?”

My God she was terrible at this. Had she learnt nothing from all those mysteries she read?

“We were very close,” said Annette. “Very close. He was led astray by people who didn’t have his best interests at heart.”

“How sad,” said Julie. And then, perhaps fearing she was slipping on the British content, “Beastly.”

“And how long have you been delivering Meals on Wheels?” asked Rose.

Why was she asking her that? Who cares? This wonderful opportunity and they were wasting it. I whistled into the phone in as melodic a way as I could.

“Sounds like one of those cats is coughing up a hairball,” said Rose.

“Oh I hope they’re all right,” said Annette in a worried voice. “Angus has been a little under the weather.”

“Oh dear,” said Julie. “Such a worry one’s pets are aren’t they? But so worth it.”

I whistled again. “I’m just going to check on Angus,” said Annette. “He might be choking. He has an abundance of phlegm.”

There were the sound of footsteps and I heard Rose say, “I think this is going quite well. I don’t think she suspects a thing.”

“This is not going well,” I yelled into the phone. “You haven’t found out anything.”

“We’re trying to be subtle,” said Julie.

“Forget subtle,” I hissed. “Get the information and get out of there. It’s freezing out here.”

“Keep your pants on,” Rose said. “We’re coming in from the side entrance so to speak. We don’t want to get her suspicions up. Julie, could you cut me just one more little slice of that delightful sponge?”

“Hurry up,” I hissed. “I’m hungry.”

“She’s hungry,” said Rose. “Who could think of their stomach at a time like this?”

“Angus was fine,” I heard Annette say. “Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?”

“Your relationship with your boss,” said Rose.

“Only if you want to talk about it,” said Julie. “Of course the real reason we’re here is to write an article about you for the volunteers’ magazine. So you and the late Mr. Potter were close friends were you?”

“We were,” said Annette. Was she sniffing?

“How close?” asked Rose.

“He was very dear to me,” responded Annette.

“Hmm,” said Rose. “How’s your legs?”

“Excuse me?”

“How’s your legs? Do you do much walking? I myself like to climb stairs. Four flights a day, just to keep myself in shape. Think you could walk up four flights of stairs?”

“I’ve never been one for exercise,” said Annette. “Not like these young people, running around everywhere with their headphones on, making a show of themselves.”

“Four flights, yes or no?” asked Rose.

“I suppose so,” said Annette, sounding a little perplexed. “You know I so enjoy working with Meals on Wheels. It is such a satisfying feeling to know how much we’re helping.”

“Yes, very nice. Very good of you,” said Rose. “Would you say you had a lot of animosity toward this Potter fella once he let you go?”

“He certainly didn’t let me go!”

“That’s not what we heard,” said Rose.

“Rose!” interjected Julie.

“I thought your name was Helen,” said Annette.

“Rose. Helen. She’s always mixing them up,” said Rose.

“I have a terrible memory,” said Julie. “Quite worrisome. And is there a special meal you like to deliver?”

“No, it’s all the same to me,” said Annette. “I’m sorry but would you mind showing me some identification?”

Identification . This is what happens when you send in a couple of amateurs. They’d blown it.

“Let me see — oh my — R-ellen do you have your identification? We can’t dilly dally — I don’t want to be late for my DBE meeting.”

“Your what?” asked Rose.

“Daughters of the British Empire,” said Julie.

“Really?” asked Annette.

“Yes, yes. Can’t be late. President — you know how that is.”

“Of course,” said Annette in a more conciliatory tone of voice.

“Perhaps we could just quickly finish up here,” said Julie. “You’ve been a volunteer for how many years? I’m terribly sorry. I seem to have misplaced my notes.”

“Ten years,” said Annette. “And I’ve never missed a shift.”

“Lovely,” said Julie. “That’s exactly why we wanted to interview you. Such an inspiration to our newer volunteers.”

Better. She’d saved it. Now she had better ask some penetrating questions and get the hell out of there.

“Why did you choose to become a volunteer? Was there something in particular that drew you to the organization?”

“I’ve always felt,” said Annette, in the sanctimonious voice that was so familiar to me, “that one simply must do one’s part to help one’s fellow man. Noblesse oblige so to speak.”

“Fascinating,” said Rose. “Did your former boss — was he much of one for volunteering?”

“He certainly was charitable,” said Annette. “Extremely charitable. Too generous for his own good really, but after he married Sophie she didn’t allow him much time to pursue his philanthropic side.”

“Terrible,” said Rose. “She sounds like a terrible woman. A terrible vicious backstabbing woman.”

“He was blinded by her looks,” said Annette. “Very sad. I know he regretted it as the years went on.”

“Very unfortunate,” said Julie. “Ghastly how some women can be. Quite beastly.”

“Right wankers some of them,” said Rose. “You think Sophie was happy or was she playing around?”

“Oh — well,” said Annette. “I can’t speak to that — respect the dead. Harry didn’t approve of gossip.”

“Yes, of course,” said Julie. “We must respect the dead Relen.”

Relen? Really? Did she even hear herself?

“I’m just saying,” said Rose. “I saw her at the funeral. She looked the type that liked to play around.”

“You attended the funeral,” asked Annette. “Whatever for?”