In retrospect, I should have taken my chance with the cops. However, my first stop was an ATM, where I scored two hundred dollars. I didn’t know how long I’d be away from home. Second stop, a souvenir store in the Market, where I bought a white baseball cap with a vaguely neon maple leaf. I selected a red T-shirt with the purple outline of a large tulip. Inside the tulip, it read OTTAWA. I couldn’t believe my good fortune when I found a large backpack decorated with a Mountie on horseback. I added a small Canada flag and a disposable camera. I finished off my new look with a pair of cheap sunglasses with red lenses. A quick trip to the nearby McDonald’s to change in a bathroom cubicle and, poof, the old Camilla was gone. I put my own backpack inside the new one along with Mrs. Parnell’s hat and coat and my Ray-Bans. I headed back into the Market crowds, proud of myself for not losing consciousness. In addition to a disguise, I now had enough change to make phone calls.
It took everything I had not to wobble as I passed a constable leaning against a parked Ottawa police cruiser outside. My father always used to say, the best defence is a good offence. I grinned and waved my flag at him. “Hey, you one of them Mounties?”
“Sure am, ma’am,” he lied.
I said, “Cool,” and moseyed off, like any dumbass tourist without a double-decker warrant out for her arrest.
Five minutes later, I was in the parking lot, looking for Gussie.
I staggered around, confused by my fuzzy head but also by the large number of black Pathfinders parked in the garage. I had no idea what Elaine’s license number was. The only thing I knew about the Pathfinder was that it was dusty and had a large dog in it.
Faced with a couple of Pathfinders in close proximity, I yelled “Gussie.” A shaggy head popped up two Pathfinders down. Good. Now to get into the vehicle.
Elaine misplaced her keys an average of once a week, and she’s always in a hurry. There had to be an emergency magnetic keyholder somewhere on the vehicle. They’d be in a place she could reach without getting her clothes dirty before whatever meeting she was late for.
I didn’t have to test this theory, because Elaine hadn’t locked the door. I hopped in and scrawled a note for her using an eyeliner I found on the floor by the accelerator and the back of a napkin which had been wedged between the seats. Elaine had lots of useful stuff in her vehicle.
Gussie was happy to see me and happier to get out of the Pathfinder. I figured the inside would air out in time. I hoped large lopsided smelly dog wasn’t part of my police description.
Fortunately, you can find a pay phone without walking too far in the market. Youssef picked up first ring. Unfortunately, he wasn’t on duty, but his cousin Akbar could take me, unless I had some objection. Did Akbar have an objection to dogs in the cab, I inquired.
“Is your dog smelly?” Youssef said.
“Not in the least.” Of course, as the famous line went, he was not my dog.
My head and various body parts had begun to throb, ache and otherwise misbehave. My painkillers were inconveniently located in my apartment, surrounded by police. I used the waiting time to think. I needed a place with a phone, a radio and a vial of Tylenol 3. The sky was not the limit.
Home was out of the question. Mrs. Parnell’s place was too close for comfort. So was Elaine’s place. By now, the police would have spoken to her. She would be in the position of harbouring a known fugitive if she did anything for me. Extended sick leave notwithstanding, Mombourquette would have to nab me if he was within arresting distance.
On the upside, two of my sisters had arrived back from the cottage, that meant one of them had probably stayed at the cottage. History told me they’d stay in town for dinner at one house or the other. They’d expect me to take the honourable road, turn myself over to the police and let justice take its course. It wouldn’t cross their respectable minds a MacPhee could be convicted of anything. But I knew the system. I’d be heaved into a cell until things got sorted out. If P.J. was right, and the warrant was for two murders, the Crown would oppose bail, and any judge I’d pissed off in the past would concur with pleasure. Maybe any judge, period. There were lingering resentments toward me in the Office of the Crown Prosecutor as well as within the police, so they’d all have fun.
But they’d have to find me first.
If I could figure out which sister had stayed at the cottage, I could hide out at her place. Or I could turn to P.J. He might take the risk to help me in return for an exclusive “lawyer on the run” story, but he wasn’t answering his phone. Anyway, I had reason to believe he’d recently moved back into his old bedroom at his mom’s place.
I needed to sleep for a couple of hours, just long enough to be able to think clearly. But my goal wasn’t to remain on the run. My goal was to learn who Laura had really been. I had to ferret out who had killed her and Chelsea. And likely Frances Foxall and Sylvie Dumais. The same person had done an excellent job of framing me. I was awfully glad the police hadn’t made the connection between Frances and Sylvie and the other two deaths. I might be on the hook for four murders. Before they did, I needed to track down this Bianca and also to find Jasmine and talk to her, for her own safety as much as anything. Hell, I needed a telephone even more than I needed a bed.
Hotels ask for a credit card before you check in, and I figured the police would have them covered. I was missing something, but what?
It took me long enough to remember I had the keys to Laura’s home. The will hadn’t been through probate yet, but it would be my property. There was a phone, Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet, and a good bed.
Youssef’s cousin, Akbar, when he arrived, was not happy about Gussie.
“Too big,” he said. “Not in my cab.”
“It’s Youssef’s cab, and he said it was all right.” I opened the door and pushed Gussie in ahead of me. I practically fell in after him and slammed the door closed. “The Glebe please. Third Avenue.”
He opened his mouth.
“Don’t argue. I’m sick. It’s only a ten minute drive. Go. Otherwise you’ll have to throw us out.”
He took a minute to assess that option. When he finally edged back into the packed traffic in the Market, we passed several cruisers.
“This is hijacking. I could call the police,” he said.
“Go right ahead. I’m a lawyer. I love to sue.”
“What number Third,” he said after a pause.
“I’ll know it when I see it.”
We cruised down the blocks slowly. My head was full of twinkling sparks, my eyes were swimming. Laura’s beautiful little house slowly hove into view. I squinted around. Across the street was a black car with a little red light on top, the telltale sign of the police undercover vehicle.
“Looks like my friend is not home. Head over to Hull.”
“Hull? Look, lady, another five minutes with that dog in the car, and I’ll be dead. You can sue my widow.”
“Point taken. Time to clear the air.” I reached into the front and gently dropped forty dollars onto the passenger seat. I didn’t mention that the last person I’d bribed was lying in the morgue.
Akbar let me off two blocks from my destination, which suited both of us. Lucky for me, since Alvin locks his doors, he now lives in the basement apartment of a converted house in the old part of Hull. Lucky for me, it has rickety old windows. Gussie and I managed to squeeze in the first window and drop to the floor. Of course, there were good reasons why Alvin’s place hadn’t been on my list of desirable hideouts. It’s always best to brace yourself before you cross his threshhold or fall through his window.
I landed with a thump that gave me a few more stars. Gussie yelped as he followed. I yelped myself when I heard a voice. “Lord thundering Jesus, it’s Camilla. What kind of an outfit is that? Canadian Crazy?”
Someone else said, “Very patriotic, Ms. MacPhee.”
I lay on the floor and lost consciousness briefly at that point.
I swam back to the sound of Mrs. Parnell saying, “We’ll have to get her to the hospital.”
“No hospital.” I kept my eyes closed.
“Afraid you are hors de combat, Ms. MacPhee.”
“I’m okay. I think if I can just have a cup of tea.” Like most Cape Bretoners, I understand the healing properties of tea, hot and dark, even at the end of summer after a rough day when you are lying on the floor.
“Tea? Splendid,” Mrs. Parnell leaned over her walker to look down at me.
I forced my eyes open a bit and regretted it. If the unrelenting blue of the ceiling and walls was supposed to be soothing, it didn’t do the trick. Neither did the medieval chant blasting from invisible speakers. Lying on the floor should have helped me feel grounded, but there actually didn’t appear to be a floor.
“What is this stuff?” I brushed at the white, fluffy substance surrounding my head and reaching past Alvin’s and Mrs. Parnell’s ankles. I might also have asked what the harp was doing in the corner.
“Tea coming right up,” Alvin said, speeding his bony form toward a door. The door was blue, it should go without saying. His pony tail flicked as he disappeared into the blueness.
“I get it. Don’t you think your new landlord will object to having the entire floor covered with cotton batting?” I managed to sit up in the hope that it would feel better. It didn’t.
“Glimpse of the future, Ms. MacPhee. Depending on your track record.” Mrs. Parnell jammed a Benson & Hedges into her ebony cigarette holder and flicked her silver lighter.
“My track record’s just fine, well, at least it used to be. Do you think you should be smoking so close to this flammable material? Keep in mind we are in a badly maintained wooden building in an older part of town with narrow streets.”
Alvin emerged from somewhere blue and approached with his grandmother’s flowered teapot, two cups and a crystal sherry glass on a tray. “Orange pekoe okay with you, Camilla?”
“The only choice. Look. All this pretense at normality is charming, but there’s nowhere to sit.”
Of course, once the white stools and table were pointed out to me, I could see them clearly enough, just above the wispy top of the cotton batting clouds.
Alvin bent over the tea service in a way that would have made his grandmother proud.
“Turn off that music, will you, Alvin? It’s giving me the creeps.”
“But it’s Carmina Burana,” Mrs. Parnell said, shocked.
A trick of the light seemed to ring Alvin and Mrs. Parnell in a special golden glow. Or maybe that was a new symptom.
“What do you think of Young Ferguson’s new decor?”
“Unbelieveable.” No need to lie here.
Alvin said, “Aw.”
“God-given talent,” Mrs. Parnell said.
“Hmm. Thanks for the tea, Alvin. Sorry I was late for all the launches. I can’t do the next one either. It’s a long story.”
“No need to worry. We know what a terrible time you’ve been through.”
“You do?”
“Of course. We heard it on the radio.”
“Damn. You heard the police were looking for me? It’s better if you don’t know.”
Mrs. Parnell said, “I don’t believe we know.”
Alvin said. “Know what? Come on, Camilla. Do you think we could let you down?”
“If the cops find out you hid me, you might be able to convince them you did it innocently, but you’ll spend time at the station first.”
“But where would you go?” Alvin said. “There’s a Canada-wide warrant out for you. Not that we know that.”
“All for one and one for all,” Mrs. Parnell said, pouring her sherry. “We apologize abjectly for putting you under pressure to be at the launches.”
I said. “I can’t expect you to take chances.”
“We are more than fair-weather friends,” Mrs. Parnell said. “Something’s afoot, and we will assist you to get to the bottom of it.”
“Anyway, since when do you mind us taking chances?” Alvin said.
“Okay. You’ll be more useful if I can call you when I need you. If I could count on that, it would be great. You won’t be any good to anyone if you get arrested.”
“She might have a point,” Alvin said. “I really hate jail.”
“It’s nearly five. So head off to your launch and . . .”
“But . . .” Alvin said.
“Out of the question,” Mrs. Parnell said.
“I’ll use the time to make some phone calls. My cellphone was stolen. Did I mention that? I need to track down some people. I also need to get a bit of sleep. I’ll figure out where to go next, and I’ll keep you in the loop. That way if the police do find me, they won’t also find you. Remember, I broke in here.”
They looked at each other.
I said. “The sooner you skedaddle, the sooner I get to sleep.”
I didn’t like the way they hesitated.
“If you want to do the right thing, do what I ask. We’ll all be better off. Especially me.”
“At least take this,” Mrs. Parnell said, handing me her cellphone. “That way you don’t have to worry if they bug our land lines. We’ll use Young Ferguson’s cell.”
I was about to say, I didn’t think they’d be bugging the phones, since that requires a special warrant. But stranger things were happening.
“Thanks.” Mrs. Parnell’s phone was state of the art, video included and all. I wasn’t surprised.
“Two other things,” I said. “When you go home, Mrs. P., things are in a bit of a state. Lester and Pierre broke out.”
She chuckled. “I wondered if they might outfox you, the scamps.”
So that wasn’t too bad. “And I borrowed some of your clothes.”
“Glad to be of assistance, Ms. MacPhee. Young Ferguson and I felt we’d let you down. We mustn’t get too caught up in our own selfish interests.”
“And if it’s all right, I might leave Gussie here. He limits my options. And he needs someone to walk and feed him. I’m sure your landlord won’t find out, Alvin.”
I was proud that I never mentioned the fact that Gussie is actually a Ferguson dog and by rights should have been Alvin’s responsibility rather than mine, landlord or no landlord. Considering all the talk of friendship, all for one and one for all, comrades to the end.
“Someone needs to feed your cat, too, Mrs. P.”
In the end, I thought they’d never leave.