CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Legally there was no reason why Sigmund couldn’t have his father present. We hadn’t charged him with anything. I left him where he was and went to phone Leo. I didn’t tell him what had transpired so far and he didn’t ask. Better it be fresh, a lot can be caught when a subject is asked to repeat their story. He said he’d be right over and I returned to the interview room. Sig had his head in his hands and a more miserable-looking man I’d hardly ever seen.

“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Can I get you a coffee?”

He looked up at me. “I’d prefer tea if you have it.”

“I’ll get it,” said Ray, and he pushed his chair back quickly. I guess he’d had enough of being inscrutable for now. As soon as the door closed, Sig straightened up, and with a quick unconscious gesture, he smoothed his hair down and patted at his tie. He was preparing for Leo.

“I didn’t kill Deidre, no matter what you think.”

I didn’t answer but said as sympathetically as I could muster, “This must be very difficult for you.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” His tone was petulant. The overly polite nervous nice guy had vanished and I wondered how often and to how many people he showed this other side of himself.

“I’m all ears,” I smiled at him. He regarded me warily.

“No, I’m not going to say anything until my father is here.” Even saying the word father seemed to throw him into yet another mood and I thought for a minute he was going to break into tears.

“Do you get along well with your father, Miss Morris?”

Hmm… That took me off guard. If he only knew.

“My father doesn’t live here.”

How’s that for a non-committal answer.

He didn’t seem to notice and said, “Are your parents divorced?”

“No.”

Not even married yet.

“My parents divorced when I was a kid, and to be frank with you, it has been like living in a war zone ever since. I can’t say I have a relationship with my father… He was too busy helping other people’s kids to do much with his own…” Wow, the bile would have curdled milk. He tried to pull back the shreds of his nicey-nicey mask. “I know he’s a good man, a very good man who does really important work, but my mother … er, well, you might say, she has tended to view me as a hostage. She gets very upset, really, really upset, if I have anything to do with him or that other side of the family.”

Leo had told us as much earlier. I wasn’t sure where this was leading but again I nodded. Better to keep him talking.

“You probably don’t understand what it’s like, Miss Morris. I would guess that your own home life has been a loving and stable one.”

I almost choked on that one but I wasn’t about to take him up on it.

“You have that air about you,” he said. “I can always tell.”

Such utter bullshit. He probably thought it was a line women liked to hear.

“However, as I was saying, it must be hard to understand the situation of someone who hasn’t experienced that.”

I’d had enough. “I don’t think I’d make a very good police officer if I couldn’t empathize with people who come from very different backgrounds.”

My tone must have made him nervous. “Yes, yes, of course, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t do a very good job. I’m sure you do. It’s just that…”

He was saved from finally twisting himself into a pretzel by the return of Ray carrying a tray with a Styrofoam cup and a saucer of creamers and sugars.

“Here you go. I didn’t know how you take it, so I brought the works.”

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this.”

“You have a call waiting, Sergeant.” He slipped me a yellow Post-it Note from the reception. “Your mother is on the phone. Says it’s urgent.”

So much for evidence of a loving stable home. I jumped up without even thinking about it. My usual reflex action to Joan’s demands that I thought I’d conquered. Obviously not.

“Did you say she’s waiting on the phone?” I asked Ray quietly.

“That’s what Andrea said.”

Sig was doctoring up his tea, triple-triple by the look of it.

“I have to take a call. I’ll be right back.”

I headed for my office, scooting past the reception desk. We had a part-time girl on at weekends, a student from the community college. She was talking into her mouthpiece and mouthed at me, “Line one.”

Joan had learned some time ago that an easier way to get hold of me was through the office rather than my cellphone where she knew I could see who was calling and respond accordingly. In her opinion, cavalierly.

I grabbed the receiver and closed the door behind me.

“Hello.”

“Christine, this is your mother.”

“What is it? I’m in the middle of something. I was told this call was urgent.”

I made no attempt to soften my tone of voice, too many cries of wolf throughout my life.

“It is. I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t. I just wanted to let you know that we have decided to postpone the wedding until next spring.”

I felt a flood of relief. That let me off the hook. Gill could come here for his two weeks and I wouldn’t have to leave Paula.

“That sounds like a good idea. The weather will be better.”

“Aye.” Joan was reverting more and more to her old dialect the longer she lived in her homeland. “I wanted you to know right away in case you made a booking. You haven’t, have you?”

“No. Not to worry.”

There was a pause and I knew her well enough to know that the real reason for the call was coming up.

“Duncan didn’t want me to be disappointed seeing as how I was looking forward to the cruise so he said, ‘Why don’t we just go over to Canada and see our daughter? We can spend Christmas with Christine and New Year’s with the other kids.’”

Oh no. I didn’t say that out loud but I might as well have. She slipped into the “now you’ve hurt my feelings” reproachful tone that had me jumping out of my skin.

“I thought you’d like that, Chris. We’ve no spent a Christmas together for years.”

Coward that I was, I avoided answering her. “I only get a couple of days off.”

“That’s all right. We can do some sightseeing on our own. Duncan is very excited to see the country. We’ll just fit around your schedule.”

Like hell she would. Joan was constitutionally unable to adapt to anybody else’s life if it didn’t suit her. And what about Gill? Would she insist on him going with them? I’d been looking forward to having him waiting at home for me with a nice home-cooked meal on the stove and my slippers by the fire.

Fortunately I was saved by a knock at the door. Leo stuck his head in. I waved for him to hold on.

“I’ve got to go now, Joan. I’ll call you later when I get home and we can talk more about it.”

“Not too late. You know we’re six hours ahead of you.”

I managed not to explode into a sarcastic rejoinder. “Yes, I am aware of that.”

She was really huffy now. “I’ll tell your father you sent your love.”

“Do that.”

She hung up. I didn’t slam down the receiver but must have communicated the impulse to Leo.

“Problems?”

“Minor.”

And they were in comparison to his.

“What’s happening, Chris? I haven’t been in yet. How’s Sigmund?”

I knew what he needed to know but it was very awkward.

“There are inconsistencies in his statement, Leo. When I pushed him on it, he got very upset and said he wanted to talk to you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hear what he has to say, I guess. He hasn’t asked for a lawyer and hasn’t been charged with anything but…”

“He’s lying.”

I bit my lip. “It seems that way.”

“What’s he said so far?”

I told him and he frowned.

“So there are two holes. First off he obviously had made contact with Deidre before he showed up at the casino…”

“That’s what it looks like to me. He keeps saying they were in touch by email.”

“Bullshit. They’d already met before Tuesday.”

“The big problem is that he never said anything about coming back in the Nova.”

“Did you ask him about the security guard saying the Chevy wasn’t in the garage at three o’clock?’

“Not yet.”

“Did he say what he was up to yesterday?”

“His story is very thin. He says he went out for a drive but we’ve got at least eleven hours unaccounted for.”

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, a gesture I’d seen him make many times but I thought this time he was trying to force back tears.

“He’s a good kid, Chris. He gets on people’s nerves but I don’t think he’s capable of…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. I reached over and squeezed his arm.

“Come on, let’s go and talk to him.”