Foul Deeds: A Rosalind Mystery (7 page)

Passing him to step into the elevator, McBride pointed up and said, “Just going to City Staff now to get that report.” He smiled as the doors were closing.

McBride got out at the second floor and looked for the stairwell. With any luck it would go all the way down to the basement level and Aziz would still be in archives. He took the stairs two at a time, passing a door that said “Main Floor.” He continued down. At the bottom of the stairs he found himself in a small basement corridor with one locked door and another that said “Supplies.” He tried the handle of the supply room door. It opened into a small space lined with shelves where cleaning provisions and linens were stored.

He walked through the room and opened another door on the other side. Now he was in a dim but much larger corridor. He decided to go left. “Can I help you, Mister?” It was a voice from behind him. He turned to see a man in his sixties carrying an industrial vacuum cleaner.

“I'm uh…lost,” McBride said. “I was taking the stairs to the main level and I must have gone too far.”

“Yeah, you're right there, my friend—you did go too far.”

Oh boy, this isn't my day, thought McBride.

“I guess I'll just give our security folks a little call. They're always happy to help out.” He put the vacuum cleaner down on the floor and took a cellphone out of his pocket.

“Really, there's no need. I can just…” But it was too late. The phone conversation was already underway.

“How are ya now? Oh yeah? Yeah.” This last “yeah” was spoken on the inhale. “Well, I've got a fella down here just outside the maintenance room, says he's lost. Says he must have gone too far. Good enough. We'll be right here. Waiting.” He clicked the phone off. “Won't be a minute, fella.” He stared at McBride.

“Thanks,” McBride said. “Nice day.”

“I wouldn't know,” the man replied.

Approaching now from the direction toward which McBride had been heading came two blue-uniformed security guards, one large and one small. “We'll take it from here, Jake,” the large one said.

“Fine by me,” Jake said and disappeared into the supply room with the vacuum cleaner.

“So what's the story, buddy?” It was the large one.

“No story,” McBride said casually. “I was taking the stairs down and missed the main level.” He took the brochures out of his breast pocket. “I had a meeting with the Mayor this morning and then after that I was visiting the Planning Office to get some information on the Sewage Treatment Plants for a course I'm teaching at the community college.”

“Oh yeah? What course would that be?”

“Uh. It's…Planning. You know, Environment and Planning.”

“I see. I got a brother-in-law teaches at the community college in Truro. Which campus are you at?”

“Oh—uh—the main one,” McBride wasn't feeling quite so clever about his lie anymore.

“I see. Got ID? Driver's licence?”

McBride took out his licence and showed it to the security guard, who took some notes.

“Well, come with us Mr. McBride, and we'll show you out.” He put his hand on McBride's shoulder and they turned and led him towards a wide door at the end of the basement corridor. It opened into a finished area with several closed wooden and glass doors leading into offices, one of which was very likely the archives.

“This is more like it,” McBride said.

“More like what?” the guard said. They were walking towards the elevator. He pushed the button.

“So Jeez, I can't be the only person that takes the stairs down,” McBride said, attempting to lighten things up. “Haven't any other fitness freaks accidentally wound up in the supply room?”

“You took the wrong stairs.” This was the small one, speaking for the first time.

“The wrong stairs?”

“That's right, the wrong stairs.”

McBride was starting to feel like Alice in Wonderland after she fell down the rabbit hole. Aziz was the white rabbit and they were destined never to meet. They all stepped into the elevator and went up to the main level. The guards escorted McBride to the front door and watched him leave. He turned at the bottom of the outside stairs and they were still there watching him.

He'd be pushing it to go back in now. He'd have to get Rosalind to connect with Aziz.

After my jaunt to Crystal Crescent Beach
, I took the yew branches and berries out to our regular lab for analysis of the taxine levels, then made my way home to prepare for rehearsal. I found McBride on my doorstep.

“I suppose you're looking for a cup of tea,” I said.

“It can't hurt,” he said.

“It's a comfort,” I said, unlocking the door.

Over tea he caught me up on his failed mission at City Hall.

“I wouldn't call it a failure,” I said. “It sounds as though you likely succeeded in finding your original contact. You just didn't get the information.”

“Yeah, that little detail,” he said cynically. “Otherwise it was a great success.”

“Stop it,” I said.

“I knew if I ventured back in to look for him in the archives, I'd risk putting focus on him, and there's no question he's skittish, and obviously with reason. Even my going around there today may have been a mistake. So now, it's up to you Roz to go down there, get King's report from Staff and then try to connect with Aziz.”

“I can easily go over to Ecology Counts instead to get King's report. But as for the other,” I said, “the problem is that because of the many, many errands I've done for you on past cases, a number of people at City Hall know me. They know me in person and they know me on the phone, and they know I work with you, so there would still be the risk of someone linking you with him even if it was me doing it.”

“You think so?”

“How about this: Why don't we get Sophie to call using, say, a British accent? She's a wonderful actress, and she could call the Planning Office directly and say she's a friend or even a relative. It would keep the focus off you or me, and it shouldn't put him in any danger. We just need to figure out what she should say and what kind of arrangement she should make with him.”

“Let me think about it,” McBride said. It was against his principles to involve anyone unnecessarily in a case, but he was anxious to find a way to get at whatever information Aziz had.

“I have to go see her today anyway,” he added.

“Oh really,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“I left Molly there this morning.”

“Well, Sophie's got rehearsal at six and she usually goes in early, so you better get cracking.”

“Right.” He got to his feet and started to put his coat on.

“And hey, don't bother asking me how my day was,” I said, picking up his teacup and carrying it to the sink.

“Okay I won't. Alright. How was your day?”

“Well, since you ask, I went to the King residence to get the yew tree samples this morning and I had a very interesting conversation with Daniel King, who surprised me by being there—it turns out he isn't leaving for Ontario until tomorrow.”

“He must have changed his travel plans. And what was so interesting?”

“Well, he spoke quite eloquently about his father, but then he became extremely upset talking about his mother's strange behaviour after the funeral, how she more or less cut him off emotionally, packed her bags and left for Europe. Did you know about this?” I asked.

“No, I didn't—I mean—he told me she had gone, but not that she was behaving strangely.”

“So,” I continued, “I'm thinking that if we get the results I'm expecting on this yew sample—and I did get it out to the lab today—then we'll need to twist some arms and get official permission to exhume the body ASAP. And if we can prove poisoning, then I think we'd better be tracking down Greta King.”

“You've got it all figured out, eh Roz? Maybe you should hang out your sign.”

“McBride! For heaven's sake.”

“I'll take all this under advisement kiddo—see you later.” He was gone. I'd forgotten to ask him whether Andy had found anything untoward in his security sweep but I assumed since McBride hadn't mentioned it that everything was clean.

I had to get ready for rehearsal, so I decided not to stew about McBride's challenged ego, or about my own surprising feelings around his involvement with Sophie. I walked over to the cat and scratched her chin. She started purring immediately—warm from lying on the radiator. She stretched. “It looks like we're down to sharing a can of soup,” I said. “But it's your favourite—beef with barley.”

I put the new Cohen CD on and got a little repast together.

“Look at me Leonard. Look at me Leonard. Look at me one last time,” I sang along.

“So,” I said to Sophie during the break, “reiki eh?”

“What a character,” she replied. “He's sweet, though. I like him.”

“Sweet wouldn't be my descriptive choice,” I said. “Don't forget I warned you.”

“He mentioned this idea of yours to me this afternoon,” she said, deftly changing the subject, “of calling this person and pretending I'm his friend or his cousin or something.”

“Just make sure to keep it between us, Sophie, ” I said, looking around to be certain we were out of earshot.

“Don't worry, I'm like the grave.”

“Did McBride have a plan for what you'll say and all that?”

“He's working on it.”

“Well, make sure to let me know what the plan is,” I said to her, in case McBride decided to go ahead without filling me in.

“We're back, everybody.” It was Michael, the stage manager.

For rehearsal that evening the space was set up for the play within the play, “The Mousetrap.” There was a shadow drape that hung down from a high platform. Behind it was a red flickering light. Above on the platform, in full view, stood the player who would recite “The Prologue” and play a recorder to accompany the first part—the dumb-show. Player King, Player Queen and wicked Lucianus the Poisoner would be behind the sheet creating a shadow play. Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, and Ophelia were going to sit out among the real spectators, thus making the audience part of the court.

As Hamlet prepares for the arrival of Claudius and his entourage, he takes his old friend Horatio into his confidence:

There is a play tonight before the King:

One scene of it comes near the circumstance

Which I have told thee of my father's death:

He then exhorts Horatio to keep his eye on Claudius. As the court arrives, Gertrude invites Hamlet to sit with her, but he declines, moving in on Ophelia saying, “
here's metal more attractive.
” The scene goes on:

Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

No, my lord.

I mean my head upon your lap?

Ay, my lord.

Did you think I meant country matters?

I think nothing, my lord.

Tom was delivering Hamlet's dialogue quite flatly, as though removed from the action. Sophie stopped the scene for a moment to ask a question.

“Roz. Does ‘country matters' mean what we think it does?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “It's an Elizabethan double entendre. He's taunting her, purposely making her uncomfortable with lewd remarks and innuendoes.”

“But why is he treating her like this on this occasion?” Sophie asked. Tom and the other actors in the scene were all looking at me, so I decided to go for it—tell them what I thought was going on in this key scene.

“Well, Hamlet has finally taken action—he's set a trap for Claudius—and he's so wired he's almost out of control. Look at the text. He starts the scene by answering Claudius's benign query about how he fares, with: ‘
I eat the air, promise crammed
.' In other words, he has an enormous visceral appetite for what is about to unfold. This spills over into crudity with Ophelia. Then, he can scarcely contain himself through the opening dumb-show. ‘
You are as good as a chorus, my lord
,' Ophelia says to try to quiet him down. And, ‘
You are keen my lord, You are keen
,' to which he replies, ‘
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge
.'

“Next, hardly taking time for a breath, he goes after the players to stop their miming and get on with the play proper. ‘
Begin murderer! Pox, leave thy damnable faces and begin. Come—the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge!
' Next poor Lucianus hardly has his devilish speech out of his mouth before Hamlet fairly shouts to the whole court: ‘
He poisons him i th' garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife!
'

“Then BOOM! All hell breaks loose. The story is a direct hit—Claudius leaps up and starts moving out of the room calling for lights, echoed by Polonius's ‘
lights! lights! lights
!' It's as though Hamlet has set a match to a fuse and has been impatiently watching the flame travel to the explosive point. You see, Claudius's reaction gives Hamlet indisputable proof of his guilt—he has just seen it with his own eyes! And he has corroboration from his trusted friend.

“‘
Didst perceive?
' he asks Horatio. ‘
Very well, my lord
,' Horatio replies.

“‘
Upon the talk of the poisoning?
' Hamlet asks. ‘
I did very well note him.'
‘
Ah Ha!
' Shakespeare writes a shout of triumph for Hamlet here because now he knows the ghost was speaking the truth. The apparition of his father might after all have been a devil's trick or a hallucination. In the aftermath of The Mousetrap, he's absolutely beside himself with glee, tormenting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as they attempt, at Gertrude's behest, to summon him.”