The Nesting Dolls (17 page)

“Jacob was born June 16,” I said. “That means he was conceived a year ago last September.”

“This can work for us,” Zack said. “Asking people in Port Hope where Abby was a year ago last September is a nice straightforward question. It’ll get the conversational ball rolling, and give us a chance to spread the word that we’re looking for the father of Abby’s baby.”

I squeezed a fuzzy duck that was out of Jacob’s range on the blanket. The duck emitted an oddly tortured sound, and Jacob clouded up. “That’s the worst quack I’ve ever heard,” I said. “Let’s put that duck away.” I dropped it in the diaper bag and looked up at Zack. “Isn’t a private investigator supposed to operate under the radar?”

“Sometimes it’s good to let people know you’re out there, digging away,” Zack said. “We have to keep Ms. Perrault off-base, make sure she knows the ground beneath her feet is shifting.”

I felt a sting of anger. “Zack, for God’s sake, Nadine Perrault has just lost her partner and the baby she thought they were going to raise together. The ground beneath her feet has already shifted.”

I’d raised my voice, and Jacob craned his head and looked at me with solemn eyes. Noah moved quickly. He scooped the baby into his arms, protecting him – against me.

I was taken aback. “Noah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten Jacob, but I think you and Zack have lost perspective here. We don’t know Nadine Perrault. She may not be an enemy.”

Zack’s voice was almost a whisper – a courtroom trick he used to calm overly excited witnesses. “We can’t take that chance, Jo,” he said. “The stakes are too high.”

“I hate this,” I said.

Zack shot me a weary look. “Jesus, Jo, do you think I like it? But the days of King Solomon are long past. Today people are prepared to rip the baby in two rather than give an inch.”

After that, there wasn’t much to say. I picked up Jacob’s toys and rolled up the blanket. Playtime was over. I brought Jacob’s snowsuit to Noah.

He slid the baby into the suit. “Thanks for the sandwich, Joanne. We’ll get through this.”

After Jacob was dressed, the three of us went into the front hall, and I held the baby while Noah pulled on his own boots and jacket. When the doorbell rang, Zack opened the door.

A cab driver stood there, holding a box. Beside him was Mr. Justice Theodore Brokaw.

Discovering Theo Brokaw on our doorstep was a surprise, but Zack was poised. “Hello, Judge, it’s good to see you again.” He wheeled closer to the door. “Is Mrs. Brokaw with you?”

Theo winked. “She was napping, and I snuck out.”

“Ah,” Zack said.

The cab driver wasn’t diverted by the deeds of others. “Somebody owes me $9.75,” he said.

Theo Brokaw ignored him. Zack pulled out his wallet and gave the cabbie $15.00. “Where did you pick up Justice Brokaw?” he said. “I’m not questioning your rate. I’m just curious.”

“He was on 11th Avenue just off Scarth Street Mall. He flagged me down. Gave me this box, pointed to the address, and said, ‘Take me there.’ ”

Zack took the box from the driver, glanced at the address. “Well, that’s where he is. Thanks.”

“So I can leave?” said the driver.

“Yes,” Zack said. “We can handle it now.”

Jacob was still in my arms, and Theo Brokaw seemed mesmerized by him. “Is this your baby?” he asked me.

“No,” I said.

He turned to Zack. “Is it your baby?”

“No,” Zack said.

Theo Brokaw waggled a gloved finger at Jacob. “Are you my baby?” he asked. Jacob laughed, and Theo waggled his finger again. “Well, if you’re nobody’s baby, whose baby are you?”

Zack turned his chair towards the living room. “You may no longer be on the bench, Judge Brokaw, but you still know the right question to ask. Why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable while we call Mrs. Brokaw and let her know you’re here.”

“Tell her I brought the box.” Theo took off his gloves and coat and placed them carefully on the cobbler’s bench. I led him into the living room; he sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace and held out his arms. I looked over at Noah. He nodded, and I handed the baby to Theo. He held Jacob awkwardly, and I reached over and adjusted the angle of his arm. Theo didn’t acknowledge my assistance. Instead, he began crooning a song in a language I took to be Ukrainian. His voice was surprisingly strong and young. As Theo sang, Jacob’s eyes grow heavy and then closed.

“There. He’s asleep,” Theo said. When Noah took Jacob, Theo nodded sagely. “So he’s yours,” he said.

“Yes,” Noah said. “He’s mine, and it’s time that he and I went home.”

After Noah and Jacob left, I called Myra Brokaw. On the voice message for her home phone, Myra Brokaw offered her cell number to callers with “pressing business.” As the minutes passed, our business became increasingly pressing. Theo Brokaw had grown agitated. He was an athletic man, and as he paced back and forth across our living room, his steps were long and powerful. He was cursing, but the source of his rage
was unclear. Zack had positioned his chair at mid-point and was murmuring reassurances. At first, Theo ignored him, but suddenly he pivoted and raised a clenched fist at Zack. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?” he said.

Zack was matey. “Come on. Judges don’t punch lawyers. You know that. We’re not worth the effort.”

Theo cocked his head. “Was I appointed to the bench?”

Zack enunciated each word slowly and distinctly. “Yes, Justice Brokaw,” he said. “You were appointed to the bench.”

After I reached her on her cell, Myra was at our front door within minutes. “Where is he?” she asked. I pointed towards the room where her husband strode desperately towards a destination only he could fathom. Myra slipped off her boots and walked towards the living room. She stopped on the threshold and took in the scene. “He doesn’t know where he is,” she murmured. Then she pasted on her social smile, glided towards her husband, and took his arm. “Thank you so much for delivering our gift to the Shreves,” she said, drawing him towards the door. “It was clever of you to think of it. Now we must be on our way, sweetheart. The Shreves have plans, and so do we.”

Myra’s presence seemed to calm Theo. In a world that was suddenly senseless and menacing, she offered safe haven. “I got here with the box,” he said.

The gift was on the sideboard. “So I see,” she said. “Good work. You saved us the expense of the courier.”

She helped him on with his coat and tied his bright holiday scarf. As he had on the two previous occasions when I’d met him, Theo Brokaw appeared natty and distinguished, but as he turned towards the door, I saw the expression in his eyes. He was desperate.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Myra said.

“May we drive you home?” I said.

“I brought my car,” she said, knotting her own red scarf and pulling on the matching tam. “There’s a note inside the gift box,” she said. “I hope you’ll take the words to heart, Joanne.”

When we closed the door behind them, Zack and I exchanged glances. I opened the box on the sideboard. As I’d anticipated, the gift was a twin of the pomegranate wreath I’d admired on the Brokaws’ door. Myra’s handwriting was as strong and clear as her message. “The pomegranate is said to symbolize regeneration. May this wreath be a reminder that there are always new beginnings.”

I handed the card to Zack. “Nice,” he said. “Unfortunately, while people are working on new beginnings, the past has a way of jumping up and biting them in the ass.”

I removed the wreath from the box and held it over the mirror on the sideboard. “What do you think?” I said.

Zack cocked his head. “Looks good. Want me to get a hammer and one of those little finishing nails?”

“In a minute,” I said. “Zack, do you know of anything in Noah’s past that might cause problems with Jacob’s custody?”

Pantera plastered his body against the side of Zack’s wheelchair, putting himself within easy reach if Zack felt the need to rub his head.

I had hoped for quick reassurance, but Zack was silent as he scratched behind Pantera’s ears. I sat down on one of the dining room chairs. “There is something, isn’t there?” I said.

“There is,” he said. “But it was so long ago. I can’t imagine anybody remembering it but us.”

“Us, meaning … ?”

“Noah, Delia, me, and our late, sainted partner Chris Altieri.”

“So what happened?”

Zack cocked his head. “Short and sweet: Noah got into a fight with a guy and the guy died.”

“Noah killed a man?”

“No. The guy, an obnoxious prick named Murray Jeffreys, died of a heart attack.”

“So Noah wasn’t responsible?”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “You could argue that point either way. Murray died because his heart stopped, not because of the injuries Noah inflicted upon him. That said, if the fight hadn’t happened, Murray would probably have lived to die another day.”

I went to the sideboard and picked up the wreath. The mica from the pomegranates flaked onto my fingers. “So when did this happen?”

“Guess.”

“The year you all articled.”

Zack turned his chair towards the window. “It seems like another lifetime. It
was
another lifetime.”

“But you do remember the fight.”

“You bet. It’s not every day you see a guy die. Since then I’ve had dozens of clients who’ve either caused or been present at the violent death of another human being and 90 per cent of them say the same thing: ‘It was all over so fast. I didn’t realize what had happened.’ ” Zack turned his chair to face me. “That’s exactly the way it was that night. Murray’s firm, which consisted of Murray and two associates, was having its Christmas party at some restaurant downtown. Dee had come back for Christmas, and that meant that Noah was walking around with this shit-eating grin.”

“He loved her even then?”

Pantera nudged Zack’s hand with his head and Zack rewarded him with a head scratch. “Noah’s love for Delia is the kind people write songs about … ”

“Or kill for?”

Zack winced. “Do me a favour, Jo. Don’t make that connection again. Anyway, we were at the party. By our modest standards, it was stellar: free booze, free food, and a chance to
suck up to people who could be useful to us when we opened our own firm. Putting up with a prick like Murray seemed a small price to pay, but putting up with isn’t the same as putting out for, and that distinction was lost on Murray. Did I mention that Dee looked really primo that Christmas?”

“You did,” I said.

Zack gave me a quick smile. “I knew your memory would be solid on that point. Anyway, Murray started pawing at Delia. She brushed him off, but he wouldn’t stop. Then Murray made a really crude suggestion, and Noah started to hammer him. Murray was a little guy and he was twenty years older than Noah, plus he was paying for the party, so somebody intervened.”

“It doesn’t sound as if Murray’s death was Noah’s fault.”

“That’s not the end of the story. We were all pretty juiced. Delia was staying with Noah, and I didn’t live far from his place, so Noah decided it would be a good idea if we walked – fresh air being a well-known antidote to a hangover. Chris, ever the good shepherd, decided he should see us safely to our beds. We took a shortcut through the alley back of the restaurant, and Murray came after us. He grabbed Delia and said maybe if she played ball, he could slide some cases her way. Noah went nuts. As I said, he was pretty drunk.”

“I’ve never seen Noah take a drink.”

“After that night, he never did. Anyway, Noah started swinging. He’s a powerful guy, but luckily the booze had affected his ability to connect. He only landed one punch and it wasn’t much, but Murray went down and stayed down. Chris was still sober. He checked and said he couldn’t find a pulse. Then … ” Zack shrugged. “Decisions were made.”

“Passive voice,” I said.

Zack’s smile was ironic. “You hang around with cops, you learn a few tricks … Anyway, Chris went back inside the restaurant to call for an ambulance, and Noah told Dee to go
to my place. She was staying with him, but he didn’t want her involved in any trouble. Dee was always the decision-maker, but that night she was reeling. When she came to bed, she couldn’t stop shaking, and she hung onto me all night. The next day she stayed in bed, eating cereal out of the box, and watching reruns of sitcoms until Noah came.”

“The police didn’t hold him?”

“The police didn’t know he was involved in Round Two. Chris sent Noah home before the cops came. A dozen people had witnessed Round One of his fight with Murray, so of course he was on the cops’ visiting list, but Noah had an ace up his sleeve. Chris Altieri, a young lawyer who went to mass every day of his life, was prepared to swear that by the time Murray dropped dead in the alley behind the hotel, Noah had left the scene.”

“And Chris’s word was enough?”

“The cops didn’t have anything else,” Zack said softly. “And none of us has ever talked about that evening since.” He shrugged. “Now, I’m going to get the hammer and nails so you can put up our new wreath.” His finger touched one of the pomegranates. As it had with me, the mica came off on his fingertip. He stared at it thoughtfully. “Did you know that the French word for grenade is pomegranate?”

“You think Myra’s gift is a weapon?”

He shrugged. “We live in dangerous times.”

We left for Port Hope on the morning of Friday, December 11 – six days after Abby Michaels had handed Jacob over to the Wainbergs and disappeared into the blizzard. Despite intensive media coverage and appeals from Inspector Debbie Haczkewicz, no one who had seen Abby that night came forward. Seemingly, the blizzard and the blackout had obliterated memories both human and electronic. People who might have seen her as she left the school and got into her
car had been absorbed by their own efforts to deal with the storm and darkness. Security cameras at intersections that she might have driven through and in the area around the pawn shop parking lot where, presumably, she was attacked and killed, were not functioning. Zack’s bleak prediction that the blackout would make it possible for Jacob’s mother to disappear without a trace had been right on the money.

Debbie Haczkewicz stopped by our house the night before we left. Her son, Leo, had sent a Christmas gift from Japan for Zack. It was a laughing Buddha. Debbie was droll as she handed the Buddha to Zack. “This is supposed to bring you happiness and good luck. I told Leo I’d trade you my new peony kimono for twenty-four hours of good luck on the Michaels case.”