Monday Mourning Part 24

Three autopsies had already been a.s.signed. Pelletier got two crack addicts found in the Lionel-Groulx Metro. Morin drew a cyclist crushed by a fire truck.

I flipped a page and glanced quickly through the last two cases.

A man had been discovered facedown below the staircase at the Mont Royal end of Drummond.

Nom de decede: Inconnu. Unknown. Unknown.

A woman had been found dead in her bed.

Nom de decede: Louise Parent Louise ParentDate de naissance: 1943/6/18 1943/6/18Info.: Mort suspecte My eyes dropped to the next line.

My heart dropped like a rock.

18.

LAMANCHE'S VOICE GREW DISTANT. THE ROOM RECEDED around me. around me.

Jamming one hand into the pocket of my lab coat, I yanked out Charbonneau's note.

Sweet Jesus!

The address on the phone trace matched the address on the case file.

As I stared at the name, LaManche spoke it.

"Louise Parent."

Ballant. Gallant. Talent. Parent.

Bands of tension squeezed my chest.

"Who discovered her?"

Everyone turned, surprised at my vehemence.

Wordlessly, LaManche pulled out the police report.

"Claudia Bastillo. The victim's niece."

"What happened?"

LaManche read silently for several seconds.

"Madame Bastillo was in the habit of talking regularly with her mother. The mother, Rose Fisher, and the victim, Louise Parent, were sisters, sharing a residence in Candiac."

LaManche filtered the pertinent facts.

"Over the weekend, Bastillo's calls went unanswered. Early this morning she went to check and found her aunt dead in bed."

Dear G.o.d! I'd been trying to reach Parent during the same period as her niece!

"Rose Fisher is all right?"

LaManche finished skimming.

"The report says nothing concerning the whereabouts of Madame Fisher. I a.s.sume the lady is among the living since she is not on her way here."

"Cause of death?" I knew it was stupid as soon as I asked it.

LaManche looked up over his gla.s.ses.

"That is why Madame Parent is coming to us."

Questions swirled and tilted.

Foul play or ghastly coincidence? Had Parent been killed, or had she died of natural causes? Was her death related to the calls made to me?

Had the calls been placed by Louise Parent? the calls been placed by Louise Parent?

Say something? Hold off?

I glanced at the box indicating police jurisdiction.

SQ.

I decided to wait until I'd spoken to the investigating officers. Until LaManche had completed his autopsy.

"Dr. Santangelo, please take the staircase gentleman," LaManche continued.

Santangelo marked her list.

"I will take Madame Parent when she arrives," LaManche said.

LaManche jotted "La" next to Louise Parent's name. Business concluded, everyone rose and filed out.

Back in my office I wasted no time dialing Ryan's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Who'll be working the Louise Parent case?"

"Yes, it is nice to hear your voice. Yes, it is a bit warmer today. Yes, it was a b.i.t.c.h of a weekend," Ryan said.

"How was your weekend?"

"A b.i.t.c.h."

"The big sting?"

"All wrapped up."

"They've cut you loose?"

"Yes."

I waited. He did not elaborate.

"Who'll be working the Louise Parent case?"

Squad room noises indicated Ryan was a few floors below me.

"Candiac?" I prodded. "Sixty-year-old woman found dead in her bed this morning. Who'll catch the case?"

"You're looking at him, kid."

"They didn't give you much downtime."

"Seems I was missed here."

"Find anyone who'll pal around with you yet?"

Several years earlier Ryan's partner had died in a plane crash while escorting a prisoner from Georgia to Montreal. Since then Ryan had been working alone, s.h.i.+fting from one special a.s.signment to another.

"The charisma is simply too overpowering."

"Could be the aftershave."

"I like flying solo."

"Why did Parent come in as a mort suspecte mort suspecte?"

"My guess would be the death looked suspicious."

"You're a laugh riot, Ryan."

"Vic was in good health, not that old. No malfunctioning s.p.a.ce heater. No leaking gas or carbon monoxide. No history of depression. No suicide note. Vic's sixty-four-year-old sister's in the wind. Disappeared. Candiac cops thought it called for a look-see by the big boys."

"LaManche is doing the autopsy this morning."

I pictured Ryan shoulder-cradling the phone, ankles crossed on his desk.

I pictured Ryan lying in my bed.

I pictured Ryan strutting with a prom queen.

"Vic's niece found the body. Claims it's out of character for her mother to take off without telling her."

"Rose Fisher."

I heard paper rustle.

"Bingo."

"You're trying to locate her?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who's Alban Fisher?"

Hitch of hesitation. "I can find out. Why?"

"Remember the woman who phoned about the pizza parlor skeletons?"

"Yes."

"Remember I thought her name was Ballant or Gallant or something like that?"

"Yes."

"Both calls came from Rose Fisher's house in Candiac."

"Parent."

"Sounds similar over a bad connection."

"The phone account's in the name of Alban Fisher?" Ryan guessed.

"Yes."

"Alban in the directory?"

"Hold on."

I laid down the receiver, pulled out the phone book, and thumbed to the F's. Sometimes detecting doesn't take much genius. Alban Fisher was listed at the Candiac address.

"He's there."

"The niece didn't put anyone else in the picture. Said the women lived alone. I'll give her a call."

"I'll get back to you when LaManche finishes."

"Could be a simple heart attack."

"Could be."