Foul Deeds: A Rosalind Mystery (11 page)

“Me? Of course I'm eating—I love to eat. I eat here so often I just nod and they bring me the usual. So tell me what you're doing exactly…you're looking into the sewage treatment deal?”

“You know, I'm wondering whether your new position as a prosecutor changes things. At this point in time I really need you to keep everything I say in confidence.”

“It's my stock in trade,” he replied. “No worries.”

I spoke quietly. “I work for an investigator who's been hired by Peter King's son, Daniel, to look into his father's death. Daniel believes his father may have been murdered.”

Harvie smacked the table and started nodding intently. “Oh boy,” he pointed his finger at me emphatically. “Oh boy, this is good. I've been waiting for this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was amazed that the police didn't start the ball rolling. Peter was in his prime. His work invigorated him. I can't tell you what a horrible shock his death was. I was very troubled by it, and if I'd been working for the Crown then I might have been able to ask some questions.”

“Okay, so what can you tell me? Peter was certainly against the Europa deal. Was there anything going on at City Hall that would make you wary, anyone who might try to stop him in his tracks?”

“The thing is,” Harvie replied, “by the time Peter died, there was nothing left to stop. The conglomerate deal was toast and the City had smartly begun to make arrangements with the Water Commission to manage the plant. So what would anyone at the City have had to gain by getting rid of Peter?”

“That's the question,” I said. “Last night I read the report that Peter prepared for Ecology Counts, and he was so articulate and so impassioned about the importance of keeping the plants in the public arena. Eloise Radner mentioned that City Staff did a major number on that report before Council saw it—really watered it down, apparently. Why would they do that?”

“That's not unusual,” he said. “Council get so many reports, it's common practice for staff to just highlight the main points. Councillors are free to ask for the original.”

“But do you think it's possible that someone at the City could have had some kind of inordinate interest in this company—a monetary stake perhaps?”

“Are you married Roz?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Just wondered…suddenly I wondered whether you were married or not.”

“No I'm not. Are you Harvie?”

“Divorced. I used to be married to a librarian. We've got a couple of kids.”

“Really. How old are they?”

“Teenagers. High school. Good—they're good kids.”

“Do they live with you?”

“Occasionally. Mostly with their mom. I mean, I'm never home.”

Our breakfasts were suddenly in front of us. Harvie dived in.

“What time do you have to be in court?” I asked.

“Nine,” he said chewing on the challah toast. “How we doing?”

“Eight-thirty by my watch. Do you know Carl Spiegle?” I decided to get direct, since time was running out.

“Oh yeah—Planning. He's a hard ticket, that one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he's very tough, very assertive. Has all his ducks in order. Usually gets his way.”

“And in this case, what did he want?”

“Definitely wanted to go with the conglomerate—wined and dined them according to Peter.”

“God.” I started to get chills.

“Something wrong?”

“I just had the creepiest dream, and I think he was in it—though I don't think I've ever actually seen him. There may be reason to associate him with Greta King.”

Harvie looked perturbed. “Really? Peter certainly never mentioned any such connection to me.”

“Do you have any idea how long Spiegle's been in Canada?”

“I was on Council when he was hired. He came here from Germany. He has all kinds of impressive credentials in urban affairs—both admin and planning.”

“Credentials from where?”

“Well, from Hamburg where he worked before this and prior to that…I think it was Zurich. He's Swiss you know.”

I put down my fork and leaned in closer. “Greta's family is from Zurich. Look, would you do me a huge favour Harvie? Daniel gave me a video of the funeral. Would you come over to my house and view it with me to see if you can identify him and other people?”

“Sure I can, but when—you have rehearsal, don't you…Speaking of which, Roz, when are we going to talk about
Hamlet
? You know, I've been reading
Hamlet
for as long as I can remember.
Hamlet's
one hell of a great play.”

“It is Harvie,” I said, caught off guard by his genuine interest. “I'd love to talk with you about it.”

“Well, what time are you finished rehearsal?” he asked.

“Usually around ten o'clock,” I said.

“I can be there by 10:30 tonight. It shouldn't take us too long to view the video, although there were a lot of people at the funeral. The Anglican Cathedral was packed.”

“Is that where the funeral was? My god, that's really strange. That's where we're rehearsing, underneath the church in the Crypt. No wonder my dream had Peter King's funeral and the gravedigger scene from
Hamlet
all mixed in together.”

“I'd like to hear about your dream,” he said, “but I'd better go.”

“I'll get this,” I said, indicating our breakfasts.

“Already taken care of,” he said. I handed him my card with my address on it. “See you tonight Roz.” He picked up his three briefcases and negotiated his way out the door. I watched him through the window as he crossed Hollis Street and headed down towards the law courts. His eager gait showed a dauntless enthusiasm that lifted my spirits.

Maybe we're getting somewhere, I thought, spreading a little strawberry jam on the last of my challah toast. Finally.

I got back home from the breakfast meeting around 9:30 and settled down at my desk. I picked up the guest book from the funeral. There were indeed several hundred signatures—some completely illegible. Peter had been a well-known and highly respected member of the community with plenty of connections. There were signatures of judges and solicitors and several politicians. There was Eloise Radner's signature. That's interesting, I thought, recalling her intense emotion when she had spoken about Peter. I was flipping randomly through the pages looking for the name “Spiegle” when the phone rang.

“Hi Roz—it's me.” Sophie's voice.

“What's up?” I asked.

“I just spoke with Aziz.”

“You did? That was fast work. Any problems getting him on the phone?”

“Remarkably easy. I called the Planning office and asked for him as we discussed. I said I was calling to confirm an appointment for him. And then the woman who answered the phone said he had just come in. Next thing I knew, he was on the line. So it was good timing or good luck, I guess.”

“Wow!”

“Yes, and we made a plan. He's going to come to my place for a tarot reading.”

“Oh, Sophie—not your place!”

“It's okay, Roz. Heavens, he sounds perfectly sane.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock. Saturday right? He doesn't have work. I guess if he has anything to pass along, he'll bring it with him.”

“Sophie, what if he's followed or something? I think you should postpone this until McBride gets back.”

“Too late Roz—it's all set up and I'm looking forward to seeing McBride's face when I deliver the goods!”

“Well then, I should be there,” I said.

“No, absolutely not. Besides, Molly will be here to protect me, won't you Molly? Listen I've gotta go—I've got some errands to run. I'll see you tonight. Get ready for that mad scene; I've got lots of questions. Bye.” She hung up quickly so that I couldn't protest any further. I determined to talk to her again after the rehearsal.

I closed the funeral guest book and decided to have Harvie look through it if he had time. In the meantime, Sophie was right, I should do some preparation for the rehearsal. My brain was always better in the morning. I decided to spend a couple of hours going through the next section of the play. I'd always wanted to prepare an analysis of the symbolic meanings of Ophelia's wildflowers and this would be a chance to do so.

That night at rehearsal, as we got to Ophelia's entrance, the company stopped their work and sat around me while I gave them a little dissertation on the ditties and the flowers.

“What we refer to as Ophelia's mad scene is actually two scenes,” I began. “In the first scene, where we stopped just now, Gertrude refuses to see Ophelia. In fact, her first line is—” I looked at Liz, who was playing Gertrude.

“I will not speak with her
,” Liz said on cue.

“That's right,” I said. “She's emphatic about that and only when it's pointed out that seeing Ophelia may prevent dangerous conjecture in ill-breeding minds does Gertrude decide to allow her in. Ophelia enters the scene singing, ‘
How should I your true love know
,' a song about the grave, with the well-known,
He is dead and gone, lady
refrain. We can see this song having resonance for both Gertrude and Ophelia. Is she singing about Old King Hamlet, about her own father, Polonius, or about the death of her love with Hamlet? She insists not once but twice that Gertrude listen carefully—‘
Pray you mark
.'

“When Claudius enters the scene, Ophelia greets him with, ‘
God dild you
,' and we cannot help but hear an uncharacteristic vulgarity in this greeting. She then says, ‘
They say the owl was a baker's daughter,
' based on the folktale that the baker's daughter was not generous to Christ when he asked for bread, so he changed her into an owl—‘
Lord we know what we are, but know not what we may be
.' In other words, unexpected awful things can befall us. One day you're just a girl, the next you've said the wrong thing to the wrong person, and you've been completely cut off from the world you once knew. Everything is changed. She then sings, ‘
Tomorrow is St. Valentine's day,
' about a maid who gives her virginity to her lover and is then betrayed. ‘
Quoth she before you tumbled me, you promised me to wed.'
He answers,
‘So would I ‘a done by yonder sun, and thou hadst not come to my bed.
' The maid in the song has been cruelly tricked, much as Ophelia is betrayed by Hamlet in the nunnery scene. ‘
I did love you once
,' he says to her. ‘
Indeed my Lord, you made me believe so,
' she replies. ‘
Believe none of us. I lo
ved you not
,' he says vehemently. Ophelia's songs and words in this first scene are filled with innuendoes, ironies, and obscenities. They are a grotesque commentary on her bereft circumstances, and her extreme isolation.

“Barely a beat later, her brother Laertes bursts into the castle bent on revenge for the death of Polonius. Ophelia re-enters with her wildflowers, and Laertes is horror-stricken to see his sister so undone. The flower imagery in the scene begins with Laertes referring to her as the Rose of May, the symbol for purity, eternal spring and harmony. Ophelia's first gifts, apparently to Laertes, are rosemary and pansies—‘
that's for remembrance, Pray you love remember
.' Rosemary is often used on graves as a pledge of remembrance. The name literally means Rose of the Sea and is also a symbol of constancy. ‘
There is Pansies
'—she says—‘
that's for thoughts
.' Indeed the name pansy comes from the French feminine noun
pensée,
meaning “thought.” Pansies can also be symbolic of shyness in young maidens and of the trinity: father, son, and holy ghost—a possible echo of the
Hamlet
story. But more importantly, it is almost as though Ophelia is conducting her own memorial. And it reminds us of the ghost's command to Hamlet, ‘
Remember Me
.'

“Shakespeare leaves it up to the producer to decide who gets which flowers in the next section, so Sophie, you may want to try various possibilities to see what really rings true here.

“‘
There's fennel for you and columbines
.' Fennel can be a symbol of paganism and witchcraft, but also of renewal and rejuvenation; it causes snakes to molt their skin. Columbine symbolizes cuckoldry, disloyalty, and marital infidelity. Perhaps she gives these to Gertrude.

“‘
There's rue for you, and here's some for me
,' she says. Rue, or ‘Herb o' Grace a' Sundays' is meant to be effective against evil spirits and is a symbol of repentance and regret. Ophelia says, ‘
You must wear your rue with a difference
.' Is she asking Claudius to repent his sins?

“‘
There's a Daisy
'—a symbol of the sun, the ‘day's eye,' eternal life and salvation, but inverted, a symbol of lies and dissembling. Finally, she says, ‘
I would give you some violets but they withered all when my father died
.' Violets symbolize virtue, beauty and humility—her own attributes now withered.

“So while there can be a variety of meanings and inverted symbols for the flowers, Ophelia is finding a language which is hauntingly resonant with the truth—that those around her are flatterers, traitors, faithless to the point of evil, short on memory and thoughtless. Indeed, they are all so caught up in their own tangle that they do not even attempt to stop her as she makes her final heartrending exit to the willow, from which she falls and drowns.”