Grave Concern (43 page)

Yes, Kate knew what he was saying. Feeling the waterworks start up again, she gulped down the rock in her throat and nodded.

“All those year,” Marcotte went on, “I don't know where to find. I knew it was with J.P., but my own damn fault, I never got the nerve to ask Rita where was the grave. Even if she would have told me, which maybe she wouldn't.” Marcotte did a little bow in Kate's direction. “Anyway, with you here, all that changed.”

“And
you
changed your mind about the money,” Kate managed.

“Yeah, I guess you could say. I wanted to burn it all at first. It was Rita,
Dieu merci
. She saved it.”

“Why
did
you change your mind?” Kate asked.

“
Sais pas
. Time. Forgiveness. When you get old like me, Kate, you learn the world's not easy for no one.”

“I'll second that,” said Kate.

“Eh?” said Marcotte.

“I agree,” Kate said. This was the moment. She nodded toward the ashes. “So, what will you do with — ”

“I'm going to keep them here in the house.”

Kate's heart bounced once and broke.

“For a little while. Till I've had a good talking with him. Give him a piece of my mind. Then I'm gonna have it done up right. Go to Krebs.”

“And the grave? Would you like me to look after it?”

Marcotte's face twisted — the cost. “I do that myself,” he said. “Now that it's in the graveyard and not back in the damn bush.”

Kate bit her lip.

Then Marcotte said, “But I can sees there'd be times … in winter …”

“I'd be happy to,” Kate said. “He will get the top of the line. And may I offer my services free? Gratis.”

The skin of Marcotte's forehead pinched up like a grill. “Why would you do that?”

“I have my reasons,” said Kate. “Take it or leave it.”

“Yes, I'll take it.
Merci bien
,” said Marcotte. “Just the winter.”

“Just the winter,” Kate replied.

Marcotte reached across his body to shake her hand. Then scooped up the urn, fiddled the door handle, and stepped out of the car.

So Nicholas had spirited the strongbox away before it could cause any trouble. That's, anyway, how Kate would choose to see it. Well, good for him. It was quick thinking, and perhaps, in the circumstances, the least one could do.

Kate set down her Carmenère on the floor by the tub and slid beneath the bubbles to her chin. She was idly wondering what, if anything, Marcotte would tell his other adult children and what he might do with the ten grand or so that would be left when the car was paid off — when the phone rang. Damned if she was getting out of the tub now, after the day she'd had. Later, she'd dial up the message and see who it was. She sank completely under the bubbles.

She surfaced to loud voices outside the door. Not the front door, the
bathroom
door.

“What the hell?” Kate mumbled.

Leonard and Mary were half-laughing, half-fighting, a few feet from Kate's sacred tub!

“A hair's-breadth from common decency,” Kate muttered to herself.

“I got here first!”

“Yeah, well, I called first!”

“How do you know?”

“I know, all right?”

“Yeah well, buddy, just get in line!”

“Get outta my way, you old — ”

Kate jumped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself, and yanked open the bathroom door. Both friends fell inside, clutching each other for support.

“Excuse me. Last I heard, this was
my
house. My bathroom, in fact, where I was simply trying to have a nice, quiet, civilized bath.”

“Well, you should lock your doors, then,” said Mary.

“You're kidding me, right? No one's locked a door in this house since '62, when the bear tried to get in.”

“Speaking of which — ” Mary and Leonard looked meaningfully at each other, then altogether too probingly at her.

“Did you notice your phone ringing at all?” Leonard asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah. Once, maybe twice. Why?”

“Your ears must be full of water, dear,” said Mary. “We've been calling you pretty much non-stop for the last half-hour. You realize your house is surrounded.”

“By what, trees?” At her own joke, Kate doubled over and very nearly lost the towel.

“By police.”

“Whaaat?” Was this what her grave-robbing hath wrought?

“They think there might be a cub, maybe two — cougars, we're talking — moved into your garage,” Mary said. “Seems there's a virtual Eldorado of old pet kibble in giant bags in there.”

Kate groaned. Oh my. Her parents' two cats had been taken on by a friend after the accident. Kate had completely forgotten the ever-present bargain bags of kibble tucked away in the back of the garage, whose door of course no longer closed. Every time she went inside the tipsy structure — which was nearly never, considering its imminent collapse — she vowed to clear all the junk out. But it had never happened.

Mary went on, “Nicholas, apparently, is screaming up all the way from Toronto as we speak. But he won't be here for an hour yet. And by the way, that overgrown crow is making a hell of racket up in your poplar.”

“And they said small-town life was boring,” said Kate, to anyone listening.

But no one was. And so when she added, “Watch the wineglass,” it had little effect. The glass shattered, and her precious Carmenère ran like blood across the floor.

Kate dressed quickly and joined Leonard and Mary, curious neighbours, police, firemen, and a couple of town officials out on her driveway. Someone from MNR up in Sturgeon Bay was doing his best to contain the terrified cats in the ancient Smithers garage with the dirt floor, while a paramedic (
a paramedic?
) was on human crowd control at the foot of the driveway. While a couple of cops manned a makeshift barrier of chicken wire at the garage entrance, other bystanders were helping the MNR guy extract two live traps from his truck and bait them.

“What're they planning to do with the little buggers?” Kate said to no one in particular. Receiving no answer, she marched up to the MNR guy and repeated the question.

“Take 'em to the park facility. See if they're healthy. Then I'm not sure.”

Seemed like a plan. Kate rolled her eyes. Surely someone somewhere had a more comprehensive strategy. After all, these creatures were making a comeback after how many years? Hopefully, Nicholas would sort it out.

The traps were lowered into the garage over the chicken wire, and everyone waited to see what would happen. It soon became clear that the frightened kittens were not going to budge from wherever they were hiding. So the cops moved anyone not absolutely necessary to the operation off the property, right back to the street. They let Kate stay, seeing as it was her garage.

After a long while, during which the cops and Kate and the MNR guy held their breath and their tongues and Raw-Raw made a constant racket overhead, some movement was apparent in the dark interior, near an old leaky hose that had been coiled up awaiting repair or disposal for at least thirty years. Kate cupped her hands around her eyes to block out the ambient light. Yes, there it was, the cutest thing with little teddy-bear ears, placing a tentative toe in the direction of the tempting meat.

By the time Link arrived, two cougar cubs were locked up in their little jails, screaming. Nicholas lifted them one by one into the flatbed. By the way he peered in at the cubs as he closed up the tailgate, Kate could see they were in good hands. The onlookers began to disperse. As Link drove off, Kate waved. Whether he saw her or not, she couldn't tell.

A sudden swift shadow, a rush of wind, made Kate duck — Raw-Raw swooping down from the poplar, nearly taking her head off.

Hille Hatter sat in Kate's office, tears spurting from her huge baby blues.

“Oh, Kate, I know it's so stupid, but what am I going to
do
?”

“So Neville's serious? He wants you back? He realizes you're married, right?”

“Yeah, he knows. I don't know
what
he wants, really. He just keeps pestering me, won't leave me alone.”

“Has he always been this sleazy?”

Hille was taken aback. “Maybe, and I just never realized.” She began to laugh and cry at once. “I guess I was just a small-town girl in the big city.”

“Hille, you must have been well into your forties!”

Hille ignored this and went on, “I thought he wanted me for my
mind
.”

At this Kate had to chomp on her own lip very hard. “And then you thought he wanted your silicone.”

Hille began choking on her own coughed-up spit. For the life of her, Kate could not tell if Hille was laughing to split a gut or weeping the last drop of moisture from her sorrow-wracked body. Kate rose from her chair, gave Hille a pound on the back and went into the “back office” to make a pot of tea. She set it down, along with two cups, milk, and sugar, on the desk between them, hoping this simple homey distraction would return some normalcy to the meeting.

“So how can we get him to stop whatever this game is he's playing?” Kate said.

Between hiccups and other involuntary spasmodic motions, Hille said, “Well, I got rid of the silicone, as you call it, and that helped some. At least it helped
me
. The only other thing I can think of is to pay him for the stupid things.”

“So you think clearing the debt would help.”

“At least it would give me some peace of mind.”

“And Neville wouldn't have any kind of hold on you anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds reasonable. But, Hille, you have to promise no more shenanigans with the guy. He has to know you mean business, or it's all going to be for naught.”

Hille nodded. “I know, I know. It's just that he was so sweet.”

“Sweet?” said Kate.

“He used to polish my shoes before work.”

“Polish your shoes?”

“I worked in a medical clinic — well, laser hair-removal front desk, filing and stuff. Anyways, I had to wear these ugly white leather shoes, and they always got dirty and scuffed. He used to polish them up really nice for me once a week.”

What could one say to that?

But meanwhile Kate had an idea. “Hille, I've been in some discussions, around the business, y'know, Grave Concern. There're going to be some changes coming down the pipe, as they say, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in some office work. Part-time at first, more if the business takes off. It wouldn't start for a while, maybe a couple of months.”

“Here?” said Hille.

“More or less. The office itself will likely be moving over to the plaza. But yeah, the same business, Kate Smithers CEO, and all that. Whaddya say? That way, in no time, well maybe a little longer than that, you can clear your debt with Neville, Ron need be none the wiser, and I get some help. It's a win-win-win.”