The Dead Don't Get Out Much. Mary Jane Maffini

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The Dead Don't Get Out Much - Mary Jane Maffini


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she didn't realize we were there.”

      I said, “More likely, she thought we'd object to her leaving the hospital.”

      “But why did she need to leave in the first place?”

      “That's the question, isn't it, Alvin? What? What's the matter?”

      “Wait a minute. How did she get home? Her car's here.”

      “Her car's here?”

      “Yeah. Someone picked her up to go to the meeting point for the march. A volunteer.”

      “What are you waiting for?”

      Three minutes later, our elevator reached the garage level, and we walked briskly toward Mrs. P.'s parking spot.

      “Holy shit,” Alvin said.

      “I'll second that,” I said as we stared at the spot where Mrs. Parnell's new Volvo should have been.

      “Maybe the kidnappers took it,” Alvin said.

      “Are you residents?” a voice boomed behind us.

      I stared at an oversized, uniformed and unfamiliar security guard. “Not exactly,” I said. “We're looking for Mrs. Violet Parnell, Apt. 1608.”

      “Yeah, sure. Stay put,” he said. “Let's see what the cops have to say about that.”

      London, England

      March 14, 1942

      Dear Miss Wilkinson,

      It was a pleasure to meet you at the dance last night. I never imagined I would meet a Canadian girl over here in England. You certainly do have a way of putting your ideas across. I've never met a lady who could drive a truck before. If I had ever given such an unlikely circumstance a moment's thought, I never would have expected the same person to be charming and feminine and yet to have such strong opinions on politics and economics.

      I hope to have a chance to meet you again and to continue our discussion about the relative merits of Russian composers. I have quite a different take on this Shostakovich.

      I hope you will allow me to call you Violet.

      Sincerely,

      Walter Parnell

      Four

      It's about time,” I said.

      Sgt. Conn McCracken, my brother-in-law, joined the crowd scene in the garage. The cast of this comedy was now made up of the security guard, two police constables, and the Super, who had finally shown up in his pajama tops and chinos with pajama bottoms peeping out at the ankles. He smelled ever so slightly of bubble bath.

      I'd never seen the two constables before. They seemed impressed by the arrival of a detective from Major Crimes.

      Alvin and I were the criminal centrepieces.

      Conn gave me a dirty look.

      “It's not my fault. I told you Mrs. Parnell disappeared. Vanished. The police should be looking for her, not wasting time pestering us merely because we don't happen to live here.”

      “Let's finish up this business of your trespassing in a building you were recently evicted from before we move on.”

      “What a crock,” I said. “Sure, they asked me to move out of my apartment. So what? I did. It was a misunderstanding about a fire alarm, which I never pulled, and a neighbour complaining about Gussie, which was just plain petty. No one ever said I couldn't come back to the building. So what's this trespassing crap?”

      Alvin said, “We had to go into Violet's apartment to see if she was there. It's like when the cops showed up here, they didn't even care about where Violet was. I don't know what society's coming to.”

      I spotted a small spasm in Conn's jaw. “Please, tell me you didn't go into someone's apartment when they weren't there.”

      “We didn't know she wasn't there. How could we?”

      Alvin said, “Hey, I bet it was that neighbour. He closed the door right in our faces. He probably went back to his apartment and looked on the monitor and spotted us coming and called security. He knows we're not burglars.”

      “Is that what happened? That jerk made a complaint again?” I said to the super, who was standing around looking useless.

      The Super blushed. “I felt bad, eh, you getting booted out like that. It wasn't me. I would have let you guys in if I'd known.”

      “No hard feelings, although you might consider answering your doorbell in the future.”

      Conn said, “Let's just get this settled. You were searching for your friend who disappeared from the hospital. You went to her apartment because you were afraid she was in trouble.”

      “We tried buzzing the Super.”

      “I was in the bathtub,” the Super said, pinkly.

      “That's unlawful entering,” the guard said. “I know that. I'm taking Law and Security at Algonquin.”

      I said. “Even though the door was open, I have a key to Mrs. Parnell's apartment, and that's the equivalent of permission to enter.” I didn't bother to mention I had a perfectly serviceable law degree and a license to practice.

      The guard puffed up his chest. “Yeah, well, the guy in 1603 said you weren't supposed to be in the building. That sounds unlawful to me.”

      Conn shrugged. “This is a whole lot of crap about nothing,” he said to the two constables.

      “It's something all right. Mrs. Parnell is not where she should be, and she's in rough shape. Her apartment's been trashed, and now her goddam car is gone. Something's wrong, and I want to know what the hell the police are going to do about it.”

      * * *

      “So the short answer is they're not doing much besides sitting on their hands,” I said.

      Ray Deveau said, “There's not much they can do. She's a functioning adult, and she can come and go as she pleases. I'm sure you're aware of that, what with your law degree and all.”

      “Go ahead, mock. I'm looking for support here.”

      I had to admit, Ray was in a pretty supportive mood when I called. He always was. I wish some of that would rub off on my other friends and relatives.

      “Something's wrong. I know it. Conn wasn't much help.”

      Ray sighed. “Okay, we'll talk about the vacation at a more opportune moment. Where are you calling from?”

      “Mrs. Parnell's place. I'm waiting here in case she comes back. Alvin's out driving around in the rain looking for her. We're taking turns. Is there any way to light a fire under the police? Couldn't they be on the lookout for her?”

      “It's a bit early for a BOLO. The problem is, not much time has elapsed since she took off. Lots of people would have still been lying on a gurney in the emergency room corridor. The cops just think you are overreacting.”

      “Come on, Ray. The hospital staff were talking about heart attack. Add to that the weird talk of dead men and the fact she skipped out of the hospital, deliberately giving us the slip.”

      “Camilla, you don't have to convince me.”

      “Then there's the fact that her apartment has obviously been turned over by someone searching for something.”

      “You said that the officers checked that out.”

      “They didn't think it was such a big deal, but they don't know her. Her apartment is always in perfect order, like a showroom. She loves her music. She'd never scatter her CDs on the floor.”

      “Here are a couple of tips. Never mind telling them how well you know the person and how they wouldn't do this or that. I'm a cop, and I hear that all the time about


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