The K Handshape (23 page)

I’d had a similar opinion of Sigmund, but coming from his own father, this judgement sounded harsh indeed. I didn’t envy any child of Leo’s. The standards seemed impossibly high.

He picked up on my thoughts as surely as if I’d said them out loud. “I am not proud of my accomplishments in the parental department. I was the classic absent father and I’m sure Sig has taken on the responsibility for that as most children do. It is no doubt part of the reason why he tries so hard to be liked.”

There was another awkward silence.

“Shall I go on?” Leo asked.

“Please do,” said Katherine, but her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. Leo saw her do it and I saw him shrink back. He was misreading her: she wasn’t indifferent to what he was saying; she just wished she didn’t have to hear it. If there was a club for people who were at the far end of the touchy-feely spectrum as far as their private lives were concerned, Leo would be the president and Katherine vice-president.

“I remarried a few years after I wrested, and paid heavily for, a divorce from Trudy. It’s true what he said. I brought him and Deidre together once only when she was, hmm, about four, I think. He was very nasty and jealous with her and actually tripped her up when she was running across the yard so that she had a bad fall. I was actually afraid she might have broken her knee.” Leo made quotes in the air. “A ‘joke,’ according to Sig but it wasn’t. He wanted to hurt her.” He put down his coffee cup. “Whether Dee and he made any attempt to connect with each other over the years I have no idea.” His lips were tight. “In spite of what I have said, I do love my son. It grieves me that he has become such a prissy tight-ass and for that his mother and I must take equal blame. She keeps him on an extremely short leash and I didn’t try to stop her when I could have… I also loved Deidre and I will carry to my grave the regret that she died without knowing it.”

He struggled for control and we waited. Now it was my turn to fiddle with my coffee cup. Katherine took to studying her fingers. Quickly, Leo rubbed away traitorous tears from his cheeks with his finger.

“Leo, I will not insult you by denying that your son is what we in our inimitable police jargon call ‘a person of interest.’” Katherine’s voice was matching Leo’s for flatness. “We will of course pursue the matter of his seeming deception. Is there anything I can do to help you at the moment?”

He managed a wry smile. “You can snap your fingers and say, ‘Wake up now, Leo. It’s all been a bad dream.’ Can you do that for me, Katherine?”

She leaned across the table and briefly covered his hands with hers. “I only wish I could, Leo.”

I doubt I had taken in much oxygen for the last several minutes. Katherine picked up her notebook, brisk again, professional.

“Christine, I’ll leave it to you to contact the Manolo girl and arrange for her to view the tapes. There isn’t a lot we can do now until we start getting back reports from the beat officers. I suggest you and Leo go to your respective homes and get some rest. You look exhausted. We’ll meet tomorrow at say one o’clock?”

That was fine and we trekked out. Leo said he’d get a taxi, refused a lift, and we parted.

I was already driving out of the lot when I realized that once again I’d forgotten the report that Gill had faxed me. I promised myself I’d come in early and have a look at it tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Rather than going home first, I drove straight to Paula’s house. I wanted to get the latest news, see my godchild, and pay a visit to Mrs. Jackson, who in my mind was my spiritual mother and had been since I was fourteen. I’d talked to her several times on the phone, but I’d only seen her once since Al died last year and I was keen to know how she was doing. She and Al would have been celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary this year and I knew she was still feeling his loss keenly. She’d been a stay-at-home mother at a time when there wasn’t a lot of choice for women to do much else but I don’t think she’d felt unfulfilled or second-class. They’d had four kids, three boys and then Paula. Al became a superintendent of police, respected and liked. He was a great dad, and he and Marion, defying all odds about marrying young, had one of the happiest marriages I knew of.

Even with the two of them as early role models, I can’t say my own love life would be considered successful. The longest relationship I’d had lasted seven years. He was an intense, moody guy, a lawyer for personal injury claims. He was keen to make our relationship official and establish a normal family life — house, kids, dog, lawnmower. I was dragging my feet. I loved my work, and the idea of being a parent, given my own childhood, made me nervous. I might have capitulated because I did care for him, but then he got an offer of a partnership with his brother who lived in Los Angeles. I didn’t want to uproot, and after much wrangling, he chose the
partnership. We’d tried to keep things going but I guess our roots weren’t quite as deep as I’d thought because one day he phoned and said he’d met somebody else and was getting married. To be honest, my heartache was short-lived, my pride hurt more than anything else. After that I dated a couple of nice guys, both in the police, but nothing clicked until a couple of years ago when I met Gill on the island of Lewis. Ironically I was once again faced with the problem of a long-distance relationship. God knows how we were going to work it out but for now he was my guy.

I pulled into the driveway and the door opened. Chelsea and Marion were standing in the doorway. Chelsea did a literal dance of delight, on tiptoe, twirling around in excitement. Marion held out her arms. We hugged, bone crushers on both sides. Chelsea was wrapped around my legs. Marion released me and Chelsea grabbed my hand and dragged me into the house.

“I’ve got a new fish named Fan. He’s awesome. Come and see.”

She was allergic to cats and Craig wouldn’t agree to a dog so she had poured out all her frustrated nurturing instincts or whatever it is that drove some kids to clamour for creatures onto fish. She was the proud owner and caretaker of a large aquarium, which had pride of place in the living room. Duly awestruck, I admired Fan, who was indeed a pretty, colourful fantail, hence the name.

“I made lots of spaghetti,” said Marion. “Do you want some?”

“Is the pope Catholic?” I grinned at her. She was proud of her Irish-Catholic ancestry and I liked to tease her about it.

“Sit down. You look tired,” she said and went out to the kitchen. Chelsea drew her chair up closer to mine.

“Mommy’s in the hospital and Daddy’s at his club so Grandma is looking after me. I helped her make the spaghetti.”

Marion put a heaping plate of pasta in front of me. I took a taste. “How’d you do it? You’re sure you’re a mick and not a wop?” I said. Another old joke. Marion made the best pastas I’d ever eaten.

“’Course I’m a mick. Didn’t you know we cook in holy water,” she said straight-faced. “For a small price the priest lets us drain it off from the baptismal fonts. I think all those tears add a touch of salt.”

I burst out laughing. Both she and Al had been practising Roman Catholics but she’d always had a sudden irreverent humour.

“Why do the babies cry, Grandma?” Chelsea asked. She was right in the middle of the why, where, and what stage of growth — mostly delightful, occasional irksome.

“They’re not used to some strange man trickling cold water on their heads. You didn’t utter a peep when you were baptized though. Just tried to catch hold of Father Crowley’s fingers and suck on them.”

“I did not,” said Chelsea, shocked at this image of herself. As well as the curious stage, she was going through a period of correctness. We were hoping she’d grow out of it eventually.

I polished off the spaghetti with record speed, refused a second helping, accepted the offer of a piece of fresh apple pie for later, and sat back in the chair.

“Grandma said you’d put me to bed,” said Chelsea. “We can go on with the story you started last time you babysat me.”

“Haven’t you finished it yet?”

“Of course I have but you want to know how it ends, don’t you?”

“I can’t wait.”

The meal had increased my tiredness and I couldn’t hold back a yawn.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to hold out, Chelse. We’d better get the train moving out of the station or you’ll be driving it yourself.”

She giggled. “No, I can’t do that. I’m only a child, I wouldn’t be allowed.”

“You will be if you pass the exam.”

“What exam?’

“Can you run upstairs in fifteen seconds, brush your teeth in thirty seconds, get into your jammies and under the bed covers in another ten?”

“Starting when?”

I checked my watch. “Five seconds. Ready? Five, four, three, two, one. Blast off.”

She dashed for the stairs. We heard the bathroom door slam open.

“Is Craig at the hospital?” I asked Marion.

“He said he had a meeting at his club. He’s on the board of
directors or something.” She paused. We both knew what the other was thinking.

“How is Paula doing?”

“A bit better. They seem to be stabilizing her heartbeat. They might let her out sooner than we thought.” She bit her lip. “Then we’ll have to hold our breath until she gets the results of the biopsy back.”

I grabbed both her hands in mine and shook them. “Try not to worry, Ma. She’s a tough one is our Paula.”

She smiled. “I know and frankly I’d worry a lot more if you weren’t here.”

Since I had seen her last, Marion must have dropped a good ten or more pounds. She’d always looked a lot younger than her age. Now she didn’t. Usually she wore lipstick, favouring bright colours and sparkly jewellery. Tonight she was wearing a loose-fitting grey cardigan over a pair of brown pants, no jewellery, no makeup. I recognized the sweater.

“Hey, didn’t that belong to Al?”

She fingered the sleeve and looked embarrassed. “I didn’t have anything warm enough.” She stopped. “Truth is, it makes me feel closer to him. I wear it all the time. You don’t think I’m going nutty, do you, Chris?”

I got up and came around the table so I could put my arms around her. “Of course I do. And why not, even a bit nutty you’re the best woman in the world.”

From upstairs, Chelsea yelled at me. “Auntie Chris. Are you still timing me? I’m getting my socks off. How much time have I got?”

“Plenty,” I shouted back. “Keep going.” I straightened up, giving Marion a chance to wipe her eyes. “I’d better go and see what she’s up to.”

“She’s been really good with me,” said Marion. “But I think she’s frightened. She told me that one of the children in her kindergarten had a mommy who went into hospital but now God has her in heaven. You know what she said, Chris? Where these children get these things I don’t know — she said, ‘I hope my mommy will come home first if she has to go to heaven and see God. And I hope he doesn’t keep her long.’”

I laughed. “Ah, the daughter of a working mother.”

But my mind flashed to little Joy Larsen and how the hell they were going to explain to her that her mommy wasn’t ever coming home.

It was close to eleven when I finally left the house. Craig had still not returned. Chelsea had kept me a long time before she succumbed to sleep and then Marion and I had had a visit. It was she who chased me away.

“You, young woman, are falling asleep standing up. Get off to your own bed. I’ll be here. I’m planning to stay until next week.”

I wished Craig had come back to keep her company but I supposed it was a very important meeting he couldn’t snatch himself away from.

When I reached my house, I was almost comatose with fatigue. Tory and Bertie were going to be mad that I hadn’t been around for such a long stretch but thank goodness for self-feeders and the fundamental indifference of cat nature. There were no lights showing downstairs, which was rather atypical. Both Gary and Ahmed were night owls.

The two outside entrances to the apartments were side by side, mine on the left. Damn, the porch light was out and I’d replaced the bulb only last week it seemed to me. I gathered up the bits of mail from my box, unlocked the door, and trudged up the stairs to my apartment. There was another door at the top of the stairs and I opened it and switched on the light. The two cats were in their favourite spot on the windowsill and they blinked at me in the light. Then, realizing it was me, owner, dispenser of food, shelter, and warmth, they jumped down and ran over to me, meowing in short bursts to convey their disapproval of my absence. I added some fresh food to their dish and got out of my coat and shucked off my shoes. The message light was flashing on the telephone and I went to check it. Gary’s deep voice rolled out at me.

“Hi, Chris. Ahmed and I have gone away for a spell to see if we can work things out. See you then.”

I felt a pang of loneliness that I didn’t expect. Gary was good company.

I’d dropped the mail on the table and I went to have a quick sort through before getting my own train moving towards bed. There were two bills, a flyer for the opening of a new store, and an unstamped handwritten letter.

I recognized the handwriting immediately. Holding the envelope by the end, I used a knife to slit it open. A single piece of yellow paper.

TOO BAD ABOUT THE DUMMY. GOD’S JUDGEMENT IS MIGHTY. WATCH OUT YOU SINFUL DAUGHTER OF EVE. IF HE SAYS SO YOU ARE NEXT. YOU CANNOT AVOID IT, DON’T EVEN TRY.

CHAPTER THIRTY

That woke me up in a hurry as adrenaline blasted through my blood. There was no frank or stamp on the envelope. Somebody had hand delivered it. Somebody knew where I lived and that same somebody had written hate mail to Deidre. Suddenly I was dreadfully aware that I was alone in the house. I stood still for a moment, antennae quivering. The house was quiet except for the sound of one of the cats scratching in the litter box. The curtains were open and the black windows were mirrors. I could not see out but I could be seen. I took my key chain out of my purse. I’d got into the habit years ago of carrying a small dispenser of pepper spray on the chain. I’d only had to use it once in the last three years and that was to discourage a crack cocaine addict trying to get at his girlfriend who was hiding behind me. The spray, in case you don’t know, is actually highly concentrated cayenne pepper and you aim for the face not the enchiladas. The eyes swell shut and breathing is restricted for about twenty to thirty minutes. It will buy you time in nasty situations.