“A gin and tonic, light on the gin, please. In fact, you can leave it out. I’m having stomach problems.”
“You probably could use a home-cooked meal.”
“Thanks,” I said. She handed me a tall glass and carried another back to her seat on the edge of a chintz-covered sofa.
“Mr. Cooperman, have you been to see Bill Ward?” She looked at me over her drink, but she wasn’t playing games.
“I saw him last night at his golf club. Why?”
“I got the strangest call from him an hour ago. He was asking me whether I’d ever heard of that Dr. Zekerman who was killed. He wondered whether he’d tried to get in touch with me. Of course I told him that I’d only just learned that Chester had been seeing him. He was, what do you say, pumping me for information. I didn’t like it. May I ask you what happened last night?”
“As long as you’re paying my bills.” I told her about Ward’s subtle way of arranging the meeting. “Zekerman was blackmailing Ward and your husband about some events that reached back to their university days. Zekerman was a nasty piece of work, Mrs. Yates. He also knew about you and Mr. Ward. He had a picture in a Swiss newspaper. I’ve got it now.”
“I see.” She could have looked startled, she could have said thanks, but she didn’t. “Do you know why he is acting this way? It isn’t like him.”
“I wonder if he isn’t getting desperate. Would you say that he’s been acting strangely, before today? Has he been more attentive, perhaps more ardent?”
“We’re very close, as you know. And since the funeral, I … Well I don’t know what I would have done without him. He handled everything.”
“Yes, I remember. He said I was harassing you.”
“Yes, well …”
“Speaking of harassment: tell me about why Liz Til-ford left your husband’s office. You had something to do with that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean. What has that to do with anything?”
“Did you ask Chester, I mean your husband, to get rid of her?”
“Mr. Cooperman, if you mean to …”
“Please, Mrs. Yates, this is more important than you know. I suspect that you didn’t enjoy seeing your successor every time you visited the office. I’d probably have done the same thing.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I did speak to Chester about her.”
“And?”
“And Chester said he’d speak to her. He told me that they’d had a good talk and that he’d made her understand he wanted her to start looking for a new job. He said that she took it very well, and said she would begin hunting. But she didn’t come back after that day. She didn’t show her face in the office ever again.”
“Did Chester, I’m sorry, did Mr. Yates guess why you were concerned?”
“No. I just told him that I didn’t think she dressed suitably and that she seemed to waste a good deal of time on three-hour lunches.”
“Did you often take such a personal interest?” She shook her head, as she tamped down a cigarette on the lid of the silver cigarette box on the table. It was a nice gesture, very feminine and irritable at the same time. “Then Chester knew you didn’t approve of Ward parading his after-hours business under your nose.” I lit the cigarette and she looked at me closely through the smoke as she answered.
“Chester knew that I disliked Bill’s behaviour with women. He lacked discretion.”
“But he was discreet about you; no one knew about the Bellevue Terrace place.”
“He had his moments, Mr. Cooperman.” She wasn’t surprised that I knew about Bellevue Terrace. After Switzerland, their affair had continued here in Grantham. He probably ended it when the good doctor began to show an interest.
I heard a muffled slam coming from the front of the house. It was followed by footsteps on the carpet, very quiet footsteps. When I looked up at the double doorway leading into the front room, I saw Bill Ward standing there removing his trenchcoat.
“Hello, Myrna. Good evening, Mr. Cooperman. I didn’t expect to find you here. I wondered whose car that was.” He went directly to the pine cabinet where he poured himself a double scotch with Perrier. Then he collected Myrna’s glass and refilled it expertly. “Is that gin you’re drinking, Mr. Cooperman?”
“I’m just fine, thanks,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I was just leaving.” Mrs. Yates frowned to show that she was sorry to see me go so quickly, careful not to show any surprise at Bill Ward’s sudden appearance. I turned and said good night to Myrna, and then said to Ward, “I still feel very strongly that you shouldn’t keep that business appointment you mentioned.” Ward shrugged and smiled. I wouldn’t say he looked likeable just then, but it was his least hateful pose to date. Myrna came with me to the door.
“I know what you think,” she said.
“I know you know,” I said, grinned and said good night. I dragged myself back to the hotel and to bed. I’d forgotten to ask Myrna for another cheque, but I thought that she’d be good for it. It was hard getting her voice and eyes out of my head as I tossed and turned under the covers with the neon winking at me through the half-drawn drapes. The cars outside drew crazy shadows across my walls. I was glad when sweet oblivion finally grabbed me and dragged me off.
TWENTY-FIVE
Once again, I won’t bore you with the details of my weekend. The secrets of the laundromat will die with me, as will those of the car wash and an attempt at stapling the hanging hem of my trouser cuff.
The Saturday paper was full of Core Two. Even the Toronto papers devoted generous space to this multimillion-dollar civic development. Stories told how parcels of land had been carefully assembled over the past year, forty-two separate pieces. Ward was quoted briefly and Mayor Rampham at length. Both were pictured wearing smiles and hard hats. Another blow for progress.
On the business page, I heard about the details of the financing. Elsewhere, a couple of developers who had been quietly bypassed were calling for an inquiry, and yelling “fraud.” But an Ontario cabinet minister was quoted saying that Grantham was showing the way ahead to the rest of the province. It was a big day for Grantham. It was a big day for Bill Ward. He had made the killing he’d dreamed of. He was no longer just a wealthy man as we understood wealth in this Niagara backwater. I took my hat off to him, the bastard. He’d brought it off in spite of Chester’s death, Zekerman’s interference and my snooping. I took my hat off to him.
I managed to kill a few hours on Saturday evening reading through Liz Tilford’s library. It was quite a collection for a serious-minded girl with nothing better to do on Saturday nights. Then I dug out the page of appointments that Martha had mailed me. After an hour or two, it began to get interesting.
Monday morning found me still in bed when the phone started ringing. Since few people had this number, I was confused to hear it jangling away on top of my copy of Improving Your Chess. I stretched out an arm from the bed and the noise stopped.
“Hello?” I could hear the pajamas in my voice.
“Cooperman?” It was Pete Staziak.
“What do you want, Pete?”
“Get your ass down here right away.” He wasn’t fooling around. He sounded like he’d been up all night, so I suppressed an instinct to tease him. At the best of times, Pete had a sense of humour like I’ll bet Harrow’s mother insists Harrow has, but there are some days when it’s best to let it lie undetected.
“What’s happened?”
“The short answer is that Bill Ward’s dead. Looks like a couple of his bimbos knocked him off. We’ve got them here telling stories that should win prizes at a national fiction award. I’d appreciate it if you’d drop in. Okay?”
“I’ll be right over.”
It took no time at all to get myself organized. My breath tasted like I’d been baby-sitting somebody else’s false teeth, and when I sneezed my sinuses smelt of mildew. I grabbed a raincoat and pulled it on as I ran down the stairs. When I got outside, I could see that I wouldn’t be needing it. It was going to be another beautiful day. The sun was already glinting on the tops of cars parked in the market square. The Regional Police office is just a block and a half from the hotel. I was standing in front of the push-button door in less than ten minutes. Well, fifteen.