Finding Elizabeth (17 page)

“I’ve called in a couple of favours.” Dave took his time, swirled his brandy, stuck his nose in the glass and breathed in. “This is a good drop.”

“
Dave
,” Jack warned.

“Nothing yet. I’m waiting on a call. Any day now. What’s the rush?”

“I don’t know, I feel edgy. The grape harvest at home is looming.” The moment he’d heard himself say that, his heart lurched. Home? Sure, but that was before Katherine entered his life. So what now?

“Hey!” Dave waved and snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face. “Where’d you go? Why are you looking weird?”

“Just … stuff,” Jack said. “Forget what I said about home and Christmas.”

“Why didn’t you wait until spring or, better still, summer before trying to search?”

“Andrew has this relentless urge to find his old girlfriend. I don’t know what’s driving him.” Jack shrugged.

Dave’s mobile vibrated; the ring tone had a weird set of noises:
thuck-thuck-thuck!
Jack gave him a questioning look.

“Hockey stick hitting a puck.”

“Naturally,” Jack nodded.

Dave looked at the caller’s number. “This could be it,” he said, answering. “Pete, you’ve got something? Hang on.” He pulled out his ever-present pad and pen from the top pocket of his vest. “Fire away. Yep, got that. Thanks, Pete, I owe you a beer.”

Jack hoped Dave’s scribbles were leads for finding Ellie Johnson.

“Okay, so far we’ve got four possibilities. I have a list of names you’ll have to chase up. Don’t ask me how he did it, but he found a notice in an old ’70s newspaper announcing the death of a loved one in Cambodia.”

“That’s the best lead so far. I’ll have to buy Pete a crate of beer.”

“There aren’t any Johnsons, or any names remotely like it.”

“What about surname Bell?”

Dave pulled a squinty, what-are-you-thinking face. “You’re not hoping it’s the ballet dancer?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s so much crap. My editor gave me a complete history on Katherine Bell. There’s no way.”

“But her mother’s maiden name is Johnson.”

“Johnson is like Smith or Brown in Canada. They’re everywhere.”

“You’re right.”

“Mate, you’re grasping at straws, and they’re all short.”

“I have a bowl full of straws.”

“Yeah, it’s called your brain?” Dave fell back laughing. “A haystack.” He pointed at Jack’s head and laughed harder.

“Very funny.”

Katherine had everything she needed for her farewell performance and after-party, neatly packed in her gym bag. There was no way Leandra’s gift, the faux-fur cape-coat, would squash into her bag. Damned if she was going to leave it behind, so she decided to wear it.

“Katy!” George called out as he knocked on her back door.

“
Woof!
”

Katherine paid no attention to her dog’s muffled response. “Shush, Bubbles. Come on in, George.” She hurried through to the mud room and opened the door, Bubbles at her heels. “Is everything all right?” She looked past George. “Oh my god—daylight.”

“Bo cleared the front for ya as well, and ya dog has a shoe.”

“Bubbles, drop it!”

A boot thudded to the floor.

“Does she chew on everythin’?” George wheeze-chuckled.

“No, I think she just likes to bring me stuff.”

“Well, Bo’s gettin’ the Skidoo fired up. I wanted ta make sure I know everythin’ about this here dog. She’s mighty big.”

“Bubbles is a sweetheart. She’s Peggy Greene’s dog; you’d remember Peggy from the library committee. Come on into the kitchen.”

Leandra came through from her room and dropped her duffel bag near the door.

“Hi, George,” Leandra smiled, and kissed his cheek.

“Mornin’,” George replied with a gracious little nod. Bubbles snuffled his hand and nudged him for a pat. George obliged and crooned, “Hi ya, girlie. Well, if you’re Peggy’s dog, you’ll be just fine.” He looked up. “Off you go, you two. Bo will be waitin’.”

“You don’t have to stay here, George,” Katherine said. She pulled out a tasty dog chew, settled Bubbles on her bed and ushered everyone out the door.

A cleared path led all the way to Bo’s skidoo. Katherine threw her bag and Leandra’s into the trailer. Bo handed them a helmet each and said, “I keep them here in case Mum and Dad need to go anywhere.”

“You’re very organised,” Leandra told him, and flung a leg over the pillion behind him.

“Have to be. I’m a volunteer with search and rescue.”

Katherine smiled behind her visor, climbed on behind Leandra and patted her on the shoulder. “Ready,” she said.

“Ready.” Leandra patted Bo. They were off at a moderate speed. They slid over snowdrifts and down slopes, winding their way through the outer fringes of Spruce Valley.

Half an hour later, they thanked Bo, grabbed their bags and hurried up the back steps to the stage door of the town hall.

“God!” Katherine exclaimed. “I’m freezing.”

“I was toasty.”

“Why am I not surprised, with a nice warm body back and front.”

“Did I hear the girls?” Pierre called out. He pushed crimson drapes aside and came striding towards them. “Thank heavens you made it. What are you wearing?”

“Hi, Uncle Pierre. Aren’t they lovely? Leandra brought the coats back from Chamonix.”

“I could do with one myself. It’s a bit cold in here. I’ve asked management to raise the temperature.” Pierre rubbed his hands together. “Are you okay? Digging through a mountain of snow is heavy work.”

“We’re fine. We dug part of the way and Bo did the rest.”

“Bo could dig his way out of anything.” Pierre lowered his chin and pursed his lips, trying not to smile.

“What’s that look for?” Katherine asked

“I was at the dance last night,” Pierre nodded slowly. “You didn’t see me, but I saw you. The man you were dancing with is someone special, I can tell.” He turned to Leandra. “He was so attentive. Have you invited him to tonight’s performance?”

Heat rushed to Katherine’s cheeks. Damn it, why would that make her blush?
My body has a mind of its own now? Come on
. “He did ask where he could buy tickets,” she shrugged.

“Dave!” Jack yelled from the living room. “Get out of that hot tub and get your gear on!”

“What’s the hurry?” Dave called back.

Jack sauntered into the warm atrium, adjusting a towel around his hips. He looked down at Dave, who was floating on his back, eyes closed, his family jewels bobbing about with every breath—a disturbing sight in so many ways. Jack shook his head, grabbed Dave by the hair and pulled him up.

“Hey!” Dave spluttered, swiping water from his eyes.

“Get your arse out—come on. The tub’s not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Dave hauled himself up, climbed out and gazed longingly at the water. “That’s just sad.”

“Seeing your pruney arse is sad.” Jack balled a towel and threw it at him. “Here.”

“Thanks, Jeeves. I’ll have a coffee by the fire,” Dave laughed. He wrapped the towel around his hips and, wet feet slapping on tiles, headed for his room.

“I want to get there before the curtain rises,” Jack called out after him. “Way before …” he trailed off and went to get dressed. He pulled on his jocks, white undershirt and shirt and unzipped the black plastic cover on his hired suit.

“
What the
—”

He stared in disbelief at the purple shot-silk suit with lilac piping. “
Fuck me!
” What to do—go in jeans, ski pants, sweats? Which was worse: go casual, or in a shiny purple suit someone would only wear as a joke or a dare?

Jack stuck his head out the bedroom door and called out to Dave. “You didn’t happen to bring an extra suit, did you?”

“No, what for?” Dave called back. “You looked like a turkey at the Calgary performance. Thought you might’ve been creative and hired one.”

“A turkey, right,” Jack said to himself. “Sure—been very creative.” Muttering, he pulled on the shiny purple pants. He examined his legs and decided this suit would have to do. The sensuous fabric was slightly stretchy and clung to him like a second skin. He shrugged into the jacket—it almost fit. “Shit.” The thing was so damn ugly. At least his shirt and tie were good; his overcoat would hide the rest. He headed for the kitchen just as Dave came down the hall from his bedroom.

“Jesus! What the fuck is that?” Dave said, shocked, as he came to an abrupt stop.

“I have no idea.” Jack said looking at his watch. “It’s too late to make an exchange, they’re closed. I had thought of buying a bunch of black felt pens and colouring the whole suit in, but I’m not touching it. I imagine someone’s pissed off because they have my black dinner suit; I should’ve kept the one I wore to the dance.”

“Here,” Dave said, eyes round, “have a coffee while I get my sunglasses.”

“You got a pair for me?”

They sat by the fire. Occasionally Dave glanced at him and chuckled.

“It’s the person within; not the packaging,” Jack said.

“Sure it is,” Dave nodded, eyes serious, but a grin threatened to take over his entire face. “Got an extinguisher?”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered, wondering where this was going.

“Don’t stand too close to the fire, you’ll go up in flames.”

Jack extended his arm and peered at the fabric. “Could be an improvement. At least it’d be black.”

“No, it would be an indescribable black sticky splodge resembling tar, and I’d have to scrape you off the carpet. Are you insured?”

“Thanks, Dave, I get the picture,” Jack said drily. “I’ll wear the suit and stay in the shadows. You, on the other hand, look almost human.”

“Of course,” Dave said in a what-did-you-think tone.

They sat in chummy silence. Dave leaned forward, elbows on knees. Jack knew his body language: Dave was getting ready to say something serious.

“I still miss your mum.”

Yep, Dave was about to share his grief. “Yeah, me too.”

“She was a beautiful human being and didn’t deserve—”

“It’s all right, Dave. Bad things happen to good people. Mum had great years with Andrew. He made very sure she didn’t have to worry—about anything.”

Dave turned, eyes questioning. “What’re you saying?”

“Andrew had someone make my father an offer he couldn’t refuse, and we never saw him again. About six months later, we heard he died in a bar fight. He finally knew what it was like to be a victim.” Old tension surged inside Jack. The usual way to ease the pressure was to go for a run. He rose from the sofa and strode to the kitchen.

“Are you okay with that?” Dave asked.

“Hell yeah. Andrew’s irresistible offer gave Mum piece of mind.” Jack shrugged. “He tried, but there wasn’t anything he could do for her health; Mum was too damaged.”

“Yeah.” Dave nodded solemnly. He paused in thought, but soon brightened and said, “Let’s go scare the natives.”

“What’re you planning to scare them with?”

“You!” Dave beamed.

Jack looked down at his suit and laughed.

Carrying her red costume, Katherine opened her dressing-room door, and Pierre followed her in. Leandra stopped texting and looked up. She’d taken off her ski gear and lounged on a purple chaise wearing black tights and a black, long-sleeved tunic that just managed to cover her bottom. Her thick auburn waves fell loose over her shoulders.

“Don’t go out the door looking like that, you’ll cause an accident.” Katherine smiled down at her.

“Huh?” She frowned. “I look perfectly respectable, and besides no one’s coming in here.”

“That’s true.” Katherine turned to Pierre. “I’m nearly ready, Uncle, I just have to change and slap some make-up on.”

“No hurry—yet. This was left at the ticket office,” he said and handed over two small apricot roses pinned to a business card.

“Oh,” Katherine said, recognising the presentation. She read his strong handwriting out loud. ‘Hi Kate, looking forward to tonight. Yours, Jack.’

“You’re blushing again,” Leandra said, wagging her finger.

“Rubbish! I don’t blush.”

“Huh!” Leandra reached forward, palms up, and wiggled her fingers in a give-it-to-me gesture. “Let me read that note.”

From the corner of her eye, Katherine noticed Pierre, standing back, hands on hips, surveying the banter with amusement. Leandra waited. Katherine relented and handed over the card.

“They came early in the hope you might have a moment to say hi,” Pierre said, with a theatrical wave of his hand. Head slanted and eyebrows up as high as they would go, he added, “Can I just say, the one you danced with is even more gorgeous up close. The other one …” Pierre paused, rubbed his chin and stared at the floor, as if trying to remember the name. “Somebody Wilson?” he shook his head. “Anyway, he’s here to do a story on you, Katy. I told them you were far too busy getting ready, but maybe later—yes?”

“I really like his handwriting. Says he’s looking forward to tonight.” Leandra rested her elbows on her knees. “Pierre, go back and invite them.”

“What say you?” Trying to look serious, Pierre put the question to Katherine.

“What?” Katherine whispered, confused. In all fairness, there was no reason not to invite them. Had Jack been Canadian or American, her attraction towards him wouldn’t have been a problem—but Australian?