I hurried home and called Mrs. Lee from the hallway, almost before I kicked my sandals off. I figured she deserved it after eight years. She was strangely muted while I rhymed off all the contact info. Then she said, "We'll see if he knows anything, Hope."
"But this is the guy Dr. Ven thought was the one! The sociopath!"
Her sigh gusted through the receiver. "Let's see if the number works. But first, we need a plan."
She was right. We couldn't just go blasting in and saying, "Hey, did you kill this woman?" even though it would make for a better movie. I said, "Okay. Do you want to call the police, or should I?"
She snorted. "They won't do anything."
"They might. We could show them Ryan's computer model." I checked my email while I was talking to her. Ryan hadn't messaged me, but I plugged in the link on the
the guy's Tumblr account. It worked. I got a mug shot of a guy with sharp cheekbones and intense blue eyes, like a Calvin Klein ad, but under the heading Michael Martin. It even had his agent info.
Mrs. Lee clucked her tongue. "You said Ryan would bring his model next weekend."
"Right, but we could tell the police about it today." Even to myself, that sounded weak, but I was still staring at Michael Martin's photo. I shook myself and remembered the tombstone picture and my phone log. "I have to show them something anyway. They can contact Michael and bring him in for questioning."
"They haven't done anything for eight years. I don't trust them," she said.
I didn't like the note in her voice. "Mrs. Lee. You're not going to call him yourself, are you?"
She snorted. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to meet with a killer by myself?"
I hesitated. I would never underestimate this woman.
"I'm an old woman. It's you who has to be careful."
"I am."
She laughed and I joined in. No, I wasn't exactly cautious these days.
"Promise me, Hope. Promise me you won't meet him alone."
"I wasn't planning to. But how are we going to—"
"It's been eight years. You wait. You think about this. We need to make a plan."
It sobered me, the fact that she, of all people, was saying this. "All right. I promise. I'll put it together before we talk to the police."
"Yes, that's good. You go outside and take a walk. You need fresh air."
Sometimes, she was so much like my mother. I knew better than to argue. "Okay, okay."
I didn't go for a walk, but I ventured out on my balcony. It was on the north-east side of the building, behind a giant, leafy tree, so it was in the shade instead of the sun. I took some deep breaths, watching the leaves rustle. The metal rail was cool under my hand. I watched a red Saturn trying to parallel park across the street in a space that was about half a foot too small, while other cars zoomed around it. I drank a tall glass of water.
Then I dialed Tucker's home number. I had a great excuse. He was trying to find Michael Martinez, and I'd already tracked him down. Tucker could help support my case with the police.
While the phone rang, I daydreamed about facing down Michael Martinez while Tucker played back-up. Somehow, I imagined Tucker shirtless and tanned while his muscles glistened with oil.
The phone rang for the forth time while one of my neighbours started playing scales on the trombone.
My mind drifted to Ryan. We made a good team too. I wouldn't mind trying again, but not if he was already playing with Lisa. Yes. I know I'm a hypocrite.
The phone rang through to the answering machine. "Hi, you've reached Tucker. Leave a message."
"Hi. It's Hope. Um, how'd it go last night?" With any luck, I sounded chipper as opposed to insanely jealous of Tori. "I have some contact information for the guy we're looking for. I talked to Mrs. Lee. We need a plan. Call me, or I'll try your cell phone." I paused. "Oh, right, you're drying out the battery. I may try your pager. Okay, 'bye."
I made myself wait twenty minutes before I paged him.
I paced around my apartment. I sat on my balcony, listening to the trombonist tackle music from Star Wars. I even cleaned, for God's sake.
I was trying not to think of Alex, the previous dipwad, who specialized in disappearing acts.
Finally, I left the apartment again to grab some groceries, just for something to do. Tucker knew my number. I had my pager.
At 6 p.m., when I was drifting off to exhausted sleep, the phone rang. Jolted, I grabbed it. "Hello?"
"Hope. Sorry I didn't call you before."
Ryan. My heart sank for a second before his mellow voice worked its magic. "Hey, Ryan."
"Did you have a good weekend?"
"Sort of. Did you?"
He paused. "Yeah, I guess. I'd rather have seen you."
"How's Lisa?" I chirped. That unreasonable jealousy had started gnawing at my colon again.
"I think she's all right. She said she was going to call you."
"Really."
"She said she might ask you to join her church."
Bully for her. I hadn't been crazy about going with Ryan. Why would I cuddle up to his latest ex-girlfriend? Before I could remind him that I was agnostic, he said, "I told her you might want to join another church, since she's downtown and you're in Côte-des-Neiges."
Despite myself, I was touched he was thinking about my travel time.
"She asked where you lived. She might send you some info about churches in your area, if that's okay."
I mumbled unenthusiastically.
"Or she might call you. She asked all sorts of stuff about you, if you like to sing, what sort of hobbies. I think there might be a sort of city choir you could join, even if you're not at the same church. You'd probably have to be at United, though."
Lisa sounded annoying, even if I didn't already hate her. "I probably won't have time."
"Yeah, I know. I told her about this case we were investigating. She was pretty interested."
"What!" I sat bolt upright, shocked out of my stupor.
"Well, she wanted to know why I was hanging out with my computer so much, instead of her. She’s kind of jealous that way."
I permitted myself a small smile, but it was fleeting. "Ryan, c'mon. I thought you know we weren't going to talk a whole lot about this to other people."
"Lisa's not just anyone. We're really good friends, still."
Epic fail.
"But you're right. Mrs. Lee might not feel comfortable with this. I should have thought. Sorry."
And the Lord giveth back. My cheeks relaxed. "Okay. I mean, I know we didn't say anything officially, but yeah, I don't feel like it's our story to tell."
"Mea culpa. Anyway, we've got better stuff to talk about, right?"
"I thought so."
"I want to show you my computer model. I think it proves she was run down. I'll come and demo it for you and Mrs. Lee next Friday."
"I can't wait see it." I paused. "You think it's something we could show the police? Like, is it ready for prime time?"
"I think so. I've been kind of obsessed."
"Awesome."
Ryan explained the specs while I rubbed my eyes and tried to wake up. This was why I could never become an engineer. Eventually, I broke in. "Strong work. So you're coming on Friday night?"
"Definitely."
"Great. I'm on call, but we'll work it out. Now, listen. You know Michael Martinez? I've got his phone number."
"Yeah, did Tucker track him down? I gave him some pointers."
"No, Mrs. Lee and I did." I explained. He made suitably impressed noises. "Now the problem is, what exactly to do with this information? I want to go to the police, but Mrs. Lee doesn't trust them."
"Can you blame her? It's been eight years. But you need to talk to them anyway. I'll bring my laptop and show them the model. Okay. Enough shop talk. Have you been thinking about us?"
That woke me up in a hurry. "Yeah."
"And?"
I parlayed, "You want to go first?"
"Sure. I assume you're too paralyzed by lust to speak."
I burst out laughing.
"I'm crazy about you, Hope. I really want it to work out this time."
I sobered fast. "Ryan..."
"No. Listen to me. I let you get away once. I don't want to make that mistake again. I know you haven't made up your mind yet. I know Tucker is part of it. And I know I hurt you."
I buried my face in my pillow. This was so unlike Ryan. He wasn't big on declaring his emotion even when we were together. He said "I love you" and figured I should know the rest.
He paused. "Look, I know you're not perfect. Neither am I. But I wanted you to know where I stood." He sighed. "I wanted to see you this weekend. I had this thing all planned. But Lisa...well, I kind of felt sorry for her."
My heart gave a double-thump. Pity. He must be well and truly off her then. Right? Right?
But still, the other part of my brain said, if he really liked you better, he would've given her the boot and driven up to see you.
"I wrote a little computer program for you."
I tried to process that. "Yeah, the model for Mrs. Lee."
"No, that was for Mrs. Lee. This is something else. It's nothing, but anyway, I'm e-mailing it to you."
I had to love the way these guys were wooing me. Tucker sketched my portrait and Ryan wrote a computer program. "Well, thanks."
"Tell me what you think. I love you, Hope." And he hung up before I could say anything.
Slowly, I replaced the receiver. I wanted to run to my computer. But I delayed it a little, enjoying the suspense as I lifted the receiver one more time and finally heard the rapid beep that someone had left a message.
Tucker.
I clicked over to Gmail with my right hand, and pressed *98 to play back the voicemail with the left.
Sure enough, Ryan had emailed me a message with an attachment. As it downloaded, I entered my phone password to retrieve my message. C'mon, Tucker.
A man's muffled voice said, "You're going down, bitch."