The Cooperman Variations (37 page)

“Sure, I know the movies,” Jack said. “Get on with it.”

“Well, from one end to the other, there was nothing that could have killed Rankin, unless you pushed the piano over on him. And that’s what unlocked it: the idea that a musical instrument could be used in such a sinister way. Then, in my sleep, I saw Hector—”

“Hector who, damn it?”

“Hector was the name Dermot Keogh gave to his Strad. You know, his cello.”

“What about Hector, then?”

“Cellos don’t sit on the floor, Jack. They are supported by a peg or pin at the bottom. Some early instruments don’t have them. Keogh’s Strad did.”

“When are you going to finish? Next Tuesday?”

“I remembered that Keogh’s Strad was supposed to have gone to the University of Toronto’s Hart House Collection of old stringed instruments. Under Keogh’s will, the one that Devlin and the others were using as their magic carpet. If it was supposed to go to the university, why was it still in Dermot’s studio a year later? Then I could see, Rankin was as greedy about Strads as Foley was about motorcycles. Devlin couldn’t handle that. And when he overheard that Rankin wanted to meet me at Dermot’s studio to tell me something, Devlin got homicidally angry again.”

“Are you saying that Rankin was stabbed with a Stradivarius, Benny?”

“That’s what I said. You can check for blood on the retracted pin. But don’t let your forensic people cut it open or carve it up. Then there won’t be anything for the university or whoever its new owner is.”

“Christ, Cooperman, you’re breaking my heart!”

“Where did you get this from, Benny?” Jim asked.

“I remembered Bob Foley’s shed, back of his house. He had been doing some metalwork not long before he was killed. On the bench was a rubber ring, a ferrule, the sort of thing you put on the cello’s pin, the strut-thingy, the leg it stands on so it won’t slip. Foley had sharpened the end to a sharp point, then covered it with the usual rubber tip.”

“Why?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to be alone in Keogh’s weaponless studio with people like Devlin around. How Devlin found out about it, we’ll never know.”

“Maybe Foley and Devlin had been planning to get rid of Rankin for quite a spell,” said Chuck, who had been quiet for some time.

“How do you know for a fact that Devlin didn’t remove the spent shells from the scene of Renata’s murder by himself? Why bring Foley into it?” Jack was looking just a little like a well-fed cat just then.

“We know that Foley hid the shells where they would be found so that blame would fall on Vanessa. That had nothing to do with Devlin’s plan of killing Renata and letting you think that she was killed in error. So, if Foley was involved in disposing of the shells, it’s a safe bet that he removed them from the scene.”

“You once said you had a witness to this.”

“That’s right. I have, but we don’t need him. We’ve got a case without him.”

“What have you left out?” Jim Boyd wanted to know.

“Lots of things, but from what I’ve said, you can see all the big pieces.”

“Does that wrap things up, Benny?” Sykes wanted to know.

“Probably not. But it’s as close as I can get to it right now. Detecting’s a hit-and-miss operation the way I work it. I don’t have the staff to be methodical. Maybe there will be a clearer picture up ahead somewhere.”

“If you guys are finished with your breakfast,” Chuck Pepper observed, “I reckon it’s nearly time to start thinking about lunch. Anybody second that?”

TWENTY-SIX

After lunch, I dropped around to the NTC building on University Avenue. I got no flack from Security when I went past the desk. Later, I found out that Vic Vernon, the egomaniacal talk-show host, had been questioned by a security guard the night before, and instead of calling upstairs for help, he went home to bed and let everybody else in the studio tear their hair out. I hope that it’s the beginning of a new era: enlightened security.

Sally was there and gave me a big hug when I came up to her desk. She showed me the write-up of the Island adventure in the morning paper. There wasn’t a word about first wills or even second ones. Devlin was still described as “missing, and believed drowned.” Poetic justice for the architect of Dermot Keogh’s death. Sally had a million questions, which I dodged or answered on a random basis.

“Cooperman! Get in here!” It was Vanessa, of course, looking like a spread in
Vogue
. She settled me on the couch and came over where she could watch me, and where, incidentally, I could watch her. “Okay, give me the dirt. You owe me that much.”

I gave her a short rundown of who did what to whom and saved the thunderbolt until the end. “Of course, Vanessa, now there will be no Dermot Keogh Hall. At least, there won’t be one that was foreseen in Dermot’s last will and testament. Maybe there are some legacies you can snag from the will when they get a copy from the hard drive in Ed Patel’s law office in Bracebridge. But I would be surprised if Keogh didn’t give the works to charity. Maybe he endowed a palliative care unit at a hospital or a puppy farm to look after stray, unwanted dogs. You never know with that guy.”

“Benny, you owe me a better explanation than this! Are you telling me that my life has
never
been in danger? Were you leading me on all this time just to bleed more money from me? My lawyer’s not going to like this.”

“Never mind your lawyer, Stella. I don’t think
you’re
going to like this. The plain fact is, dear heart, the plain fact is that this case wasn’t about
you
at all. You were a smoke-screen, a red herring.”

“You won’t get me to believe that in a thousand years.”

“Nevertheless.” Vanessa tried to hide the kick to her vanity by taking it out on me. An offensive is always a good play when you’ve been taken off guard.

“You’re in league with the rest of them.”

“Your pills are in your top drawer.” She started to open it, then slammed it shut again.

“Vanessa, I was always as up front with you as you were with me. Remember the first day in my office, when you told me you never owned a gun?”

“You’re a cheat and a liar, Benny. You should be disbarred.”

“Stella, how can you accuse me like that? Me, a friend from Grantham Collegiate Institute and Vocational School.”

“Stop calling me that! I ought to fire you right now.”

“But I’m not even on the payroll any more. You fired me already. I’m sure that Staff Sergeant Sykes—”

“You’re still on salary until
Saturday
. I changed my mind. But I’m moving you out of here. Hy Newman needs your space. Did I tell you about that?” I raised a surprised eyebrow while she told me about what I’d seen at the press reception. “I think that bringing Hy back was a stroke of genius, don’t you? He’ll save me hours a week. Some days I know I earn my pay. I may never have to go into a studio again. What bliss!”

“Great.”

“Now what are you going to do?”

“I think I’m due for a holiday.”

“Taking off to Dittrick Lake or back to Muskoka?”

“I would like to go back to Muskoka some day. Maybe you’ll rent me your cottage. But right now I think I’m heading for Paris. Paris will be a rest cure after looking out for you, Vanessa.” I didn’t think it would be polite to mention that I had hopes of seeing my own Anna Abraham in Paris. I really can keep some things to myself.

“I’ll bet you’re glad to be leaving here. Leave the cleaning up to others.”

“They were doing it before I came to Toronto, Stella.”

“Stop
calling
me that!”

“You have my Grantham address, right?”

“Sally has it. Was it all work, Benny? We did have some fun, didn’t we?” I looked over at Vanessa Moss in her big corner office, sitting with her lovely legs crossed. I thought of the last ten days at out-of-town rates. I thought of Dermot Keogh, Rankin, Devlin. I thought of Renata Sartori, whose death had brought me to Toronto.

“Didn’t we have some fun?” Vanessa repeated. I didn’t know how to answer that one.

Anna’s face moved through my head, reminding me of all I wanted to forget. Like I said in the beginning, I should have seen the writing on the wall.

“It was more than fun, Stella. It was an education.”

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