Murder Is Uncooperative (9 page)

“That's why I want to learn more about this disappearance. I doubt it's connected at all, but I was curious. Do you think you can help me?”

“Of course I'll help you, Bec. I don't have a lot of time before the game but I'll see what I can find out.”

“I hope it's not too much trouble,” I said. “I have no idea how much time it'd take to find this information. But it could be important.”

“I'll let you know as soon as I find something out.”

I started to read through the other papers, hoping I might have missed something about the girls' disappearance. I didn't see anything. But as I kept reading, I found myself getting drawn back in to the story of the co-op.

The meeting minutes seemed to show that co-op meetings had sometimes been as contentious as the one I attended but
that other times the co-op members had pulled together to get things accomplished.

They had organized Christmas parties, with one of the older members dressing up as Santa Claus. They made sure that each of the children, particularly the ones from poorer families, got a gift. They had successfully dealt with city hall to get a traffic light installed at a nearby corner where there had been a lot of accidents. They had held work parties, much better attended than the one I went to, to clean up the garden or to install playground equipment.

Looking through the files, I began to see why Les had loved this co-op. There had been problems in the past, but the people who lived here had managed to work through them. They worked hard to make sure they were providing good, affordable housing. I had offered to take on the work of the co-op history for my own reasons, partly to help Gwen and partly to see if I could find anything related to Les' death. But I started to get excited about the project on its own merits. I hoped there was a way to help new members like me understand how and why the co-op had been built. To know what a debt we owed to the people who had started the co-op and kept it going.

Still, I was disappointed I couldn't find any more information on the missing girls. I had hoped there might be some hint in the minutes from that time. But maybe everyone then had known what was going on and were just trying to get on with the running of the co-op.

And the lack of organization in the files was frustrating. I sometimes found a series of minutes that ran consecutively for a while. But I couldn't see anything in them that was out of the ordinary. Then there were gaps where there didn't seem to be any minutes at all. Either they were missing, or the co-op was not
meeting regularly. I hoped Gwen or Ruth could locate more files in the office. Maybe Ruth could help me with this project. She seemed more focused on the financial aspects of her job, but I thought she might like the idea of a tribute to Les.

I found a picture of him at a much younger age, with dark curls circling his face. He had been much older and balder when I knew him, but he still had a youthful air of enthusiasm and energy. In the photo, he was holding a certificate of thanks from the co-op, after working ten years as the co-op's manager. He was beaming, surrounded by co-op members. My eyes filled with tears.

I was so engrossed with the papers on my desk I jumped when the phone rang.

“Hi,” Dave greeted me. “Just thought I'd call you before I left. I wasn't able to find what you were looking for yet. I'll try to get to it later.”

I couldn't really blame him for my frustration. I know Dave took his work seriously and needed to be at the game. I tried Gwen's number again. Once again, there was no answer.

Les's memorial service took place on a Saturday. The day was sunny, but there was enough of an autumn chill in the air that I felt comfortable in my black suit.

I'd bought the suit about six years ago, before Ben was born. It was a classic cut that still worked. I paired the short, fitted jacket and slim skirt with a scoop-necked silver blouse and black heels.

I had originally bought the suit for work, but it was really too formal for the casual newsroom at the paper. And I'd soon become pregnant with Ben, so it hadn't gotten a lot of wear. The suit was perfect for some of my corporate clients and, of course, for funerals. I'd worn it to my mother's funeral too.

I hadn't known Les well, but I thought I should go to the memorial service.

“Sure,” my father said, when I asked if he could look after Ben. “I guess most of the co-op will be going to the funeral, after he worked here for so long.”

“I suppose so. I haven't met many of them, except at that awful meeting. But Mariana seems nice. Maybe I'll go next door and see if she's going.”

She answered the door wearing a calf-length purple dress splashed with flowers in a darker shade. “Of course I'm going,” she said in response to my question.

“I can use Dad's car today. Do you want a ride?”

When we met a few a minutes later outside our apartment doors, she was carrying another plate of cookies.

"Should I be bringing something?” I asked.

“Not at all. I just offered to help Ruthie out by bringing some food. I think she and her mother are doing most of the catering for the reception after the service.”

That didn't sound like the sulky young woman I'd seen at the office. I hoped that Les would be given a good send-off.

As we were getting into the car in the parking garage, the elevator doors opened and Gwen hurried out.

The contrast between Gwen and Mariana couldn't have been greater. Whenever I had seen them before, they seemed to dress in similar styles, longer dresses and loose linen trousers in jewel colors. I thought that Mariana's dark purple dress was probably the most sombre thing in her closet. The dress emphasized her round figure, and her plump feet were crammed into low-heeled pumps that didn't give her any extra height. Her dark hair frizzed about her round face. But that face was smiling and I couldn't help smiling in return.

Gwen, in contrast, wore a tailored suit with a straight skirt. It was similar in style to mine but made mine look cheap. She towered over me in high black pumps.

“Are you going to Les's funeral?” I asked. “We were just leaving. Do you want a ride?”

She accepted with what looked like relief. “That would be very nice. I'm running a bit late.”

I noticed she was carrying a large platter of something that looked like pastries. I helped Gwen settle the platter onto the back seat. She climbed in after it and gripped the platter firmly so that it wouldn't slide around. Mariana got into the front seat beside me and held her own plate of cookies on her lap. The car filled with smells of warm baking and the perfume the two women were wearing. I was becoming familiar with the sweet scent Mariana
seemed to favor. Gwen's was a more sophisticated mix of rose and lavender, with a spicy note.

“Do you know if many people from the co-op will be coming to the funeral?” I asked.

“Well, everyone got a notice,” Gwen answered. “I sent the email around myself because Ruth was taking some time off. And I posted the notice on the bulletin boards in the elevators and the laundry room. Jeremy phoned around to remind people. I hope people will come. Les worked for us a long time.”

The church had an attached hall at the side for gatherings after the services. I parked in the lot near the hall.

“I'll just take these around to the hall kitchen,” Gwen said as she got out of the car. “I could take yours too,” she offered to Mariana. “I'll meet you inside.”

The chapel was simply designed—lots of light wood and plain glass windows. The seats were fairly full, but Mariana and I found seats half way up the aisle. We saved a place for Gwen. As I looked around, I recognized quite a few people from the co-op.

“Looks like a good turnout,” I said to Mariana. “Les would have been pleased.”

“I don't see Aaron or Cara,” she said, looking around. “I think they're both still upset about that last meeting.”

“I just saw Kevin outside,” Gwen said, sliding into the vacant seat beside me. “Aaron wasn't with him. But surely that last meeting wouldn't stop them from paying their respects at the funeral. I can't imagine they would be so petty. Les devoted himself to the co-op.”

“I wonder if it's true that the police attend the funeral when they're investigating a murder?” Mariana asked, craning her neck. “I don't see those police officers. Did they tell you anything more about the death, Gwen?”

She shook her head. “I think they do consider it suspicious. I don't know if they think it was murder.”

The police were still investigating. Gwen and I had been told that the coroner would be involved and that we would likely have to appear as witnesses if there was an inquest.

“I still think someone could have broken in, looking for something to steal,” Gwen went on. “I can't think of any other explanation, if the police don't think it's an accident. It could have been one of the homeless people around the neighborhood.”

“Speaking of homeless people,” I said. “I had an odd encounter the day I first came to the co-op and I keep seeing the same person. Have you seen a woman . . . ?”

The sound of music interrupted me, and I didn't get a chance to ask about the homeless woman I had met. I recognized the opening strains of the protest song,
We Shall Overcome,
as Ruth came down the aisle. She was with a beautiful, dark-haired woman who looked so much like her I assumed it was her mother.

There was no coffin, just a large photo of Les at the front of the church, flanked by tall sprays of white and yellow flowers. Had Les's body been cremated? Or were the police still examining it? I wondered what kind of evidence they'd found about the death.

The service was short and simple. The minister, a tall, boxy woman in her late forties, spoke only briefly about Les. I learned he was originally from the United States but had been in Canada over forty years. I wondered if he had been one of the many young people who had fled to Canada to avoid the draft for the war in Vietnam. If so, he was older than I thought. My father had several friends who had come to Canada at that time. Les might have been close to retirement age. His death seemed even more cruel if that was the case. He should have been able to leave the co-op with a nice gift and plans for the future.

I gathered that Les hadn't been a particularly religious man. The minister's words about him were short and the chosen music was mostly folk songs or anthems from the civil rights movement, rather than hymns. But the solemn words of the service brought back memories of my mother's funeral and I felt tears gathering in my eyes. I tried to dry my eyes discretely with a tissue I found in my purse. Someone in the co-op had already been spreading rumors about my relationship with Les. I didn't want to add to them by sobbing through his funeral.

I was relieved when the service ended and we filed out of the church. Everyone had been invited to join the others for refreshments in the hall that adjoined the church.

Gwen slipped away from us as we left the church, whispering that she would meet us in the hall. Mariana and I looked around. Ruth and the woman I had guessed was her mother were surrounded by people. We could wait for a moment before paying our respects.

A long table had been set up with sandwiches and other food. At another table a group of women were pouring coffee and tea. “Let's get some coffee,” Mariana suggested, moving over toward the table. I asked for tea and a smiling, gray-haired woman poured it into a beautiful china cup. I noticed she poured Mariana's coffee into another cup with a different pattern.

“What pretty cups,” Mariana said, as the woman handed it to her.

“Well, we all had teacups we weren't using so we just donated them to the church to use for gatherings after the services,” she replied. “It's so much nicer than using disposable cups, don't you think?”

“Oh, yes,” Mariana said. “I remember my grandmother using a china service like this. I think she brought the tea service
from England when she emigrated. She always set a beautiful table. It's lovely to use nice things and not just keep them in a cupboard, isn't it?”

Gwen joined us at that point, and I saw her give a questioning look to Mariana before asking for a cup of tea.

“How did you know Les?” I asked the woman at the tea table. No one else was lining up for tea or coffee, and the woman seemed willing to chat.

“Oh, I don't. Carol, of course, is a regular at the church,” she said, waving her hand towards the woman I assumed was Ruth's mother. She was as tall as Ruth, with the same dark hair and oval face. “We wanted to help her and Ruth. They put together most of the food themselves but we helped where we could. They're such a nice family.”

I thanked her for the tea, and we moved toward the center of the room. People were swarming around the food table but I wasn't really hungry.

“Hey, Gwen.” Jeremy, the co-op's vice-president, had come up behind us. “I hear that Ruth put this whole thing together. Do you know if there was something going on between her and Les? I've heard all sorts of things. Some people are convinced she was in a relationship with him and other people think she was his daughter or his niece. Do you have any idea?”

“Perhaps she wanted to honor a co-worker who was kind to her,” Gwen said sternly. “Excuse me. I see there's a bit of space around Ruth now. I really must go and give her my condolences.” She headed across the room with Mariana. I was about to follow her when Jeremy stopped me.

“It's Rebecca, right? Sorry about that. She's right. I was being a complete ass.”

I muttered some faint denial.

"No, really. It's just that I've only been on the board a little while. I'm still unsure about what we're supposed to be doing. If it was an accident, would the co-op be liable? That office was certainly a hazardous workplace. We kept talking to Les about cleaning it up.”

I muttered something. I didn't have the faintest idea if the co-op could be held responsible for an office accident. But Jeremy just seemed to want an audience.