minutes?”
In the year since Beverly’s death, Liz’s face had become permanently lined by sadness. I was weary, but turning down any request Liz made was unthinkable. “Of course,” I said. “But won’t Graham be waiting?”
“Graham will already be back at his office,” Liz said. “He always has urgent business to take care of. Besides, what I have in mind won’t take long. After Beverly and I visited the gallery we always went to the Mackenzie’s Outdoor Sculpture Garden. You and I don’t have to do the whole tour, but I’d like to pay a quick visit to Potter, Valadon, and Teevo.”
Liz didn’t have to explain the reference. Potter, Valadon, and Teevo were Joe Fafard’s life-sized bronze sculptures of a bull, a cow, and a calf. The three animals stood in an informal grouping on the lawn close to Albert Street. Many a harried driver, frustrated by traffic and urban life in general, had found solace in Fafard’s reminder of a simpler time.
Clearly, Liz Meighen felt a powerful connection to the animals. When we reached them, Liz went to Potter, rubbed his flank, then moved to Valadon and stroked her back. Finally, she went to Teevo, the calf, and rested her hand on his head. Her movements, as Beverly’s had been, were artless and sure. “You and Bev are so much alike,” I said.
There was sorrow in Liz’s smile. “Nothing you could have said would please me more. I miss Beverly every second of every day. I tell myself that she was in my life for thirty-eight years, and that I should be grateful for that.”
“I know. After my first husband died, I tried to hold on to the fact that we had had almost twenty good years together.”
“You wanted more,” Liz said simply. “So did I. I wanted Beverly’s to be the last face I saw before I died.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “But it wasn’t to be. This Friday is the anniversary of Bev’s death. I’ve been keeping very much to myself this past year. I’m going to allow myself one last day of grieving and then I’m going to rejoin the world.”
When I turned onto Halifax Street, I saw that Debbie Haczkewicz’s grey Ford Fusion was parked in front of our building. As I waited for the gate that led to our parking garage to open, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. Standing in the wet grass looking at the Fafard cattle, I had found a measure of peace. Whatever news Debbie brought would inevitably shatter that peace. The red speedboat’s passage towards the unknown was inexorable. All I could do was hang on to the rope and hope for the best.
Debbie and Zack were at the dining room table having coffee when I came in.
“Perfect timing,” Zack said. “Debbie just told me she has some intriguing information.”
I kicked off my pumps, gave Zack a quick embrace, and took the chair next to Debbie’s. “Shoot,” I said.
Debbie raised an eyebrow. “Hold on because this one’s a doozie. Cronus named Zack as his executor and sole beneficiary.”
Zack leaned towards her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. The lawyer who handled Cronus’s will called thismorning to say that since Cronus named you as next of kin, executor, and sole beneficiary, we should deal with you.”
“Who’s the lawyer?” Zack asked.
“Darryl Colby,” Debbie said.
“The cherry on the cheesecake,” Zack said. “Darryl’s one of the few lawyers in town who really gets under my skin.”
“It’s his aftershave,” I said. “It’s industrial strength.”
“I’ll remember to conduct all my business with Mr. Colby electronically,” Debbie said.
“I won’t have that option.” Zack rubbed his eyes. “You know, this really is sad. I barely knew Cronus. To me, he was just another case.”
“Well, you obviously meant something more to him,” Debbie said.
Zack’s face was sombre. “I know, and I’ll do everything that needs to be done. I’m assuming you won’t be releasing the body for the foreseeable
In the year since Beverly’s death, Liz’s face had become permanently lined by sadness. I was weary, but turning down any request Liz made was unthinkable. “Of course,” I said. “But won’t Graham be waiting?”
“Graham will already be back at his office,” Liz said. “He always has urgent business to take care of. Besides, what I have in mind won’t take long. After Beverly and I visited the gallery we always went to the Mackenzie’s Outdoor Sculpture Garden. You and I don’t have to do the whole tour, but I’d like to pay a quick visit to Potter, Valadon, and Teevo.”
Liz didn’t have to explain the reference. Potter, Valadon, and Teevo were Joe Fafard’s life-sized bronze sculptures of a bull, a cow, and a calf. The three animals stood in an informal grouping on the lawn close to Albert Street. Many a harried driver, frustrated by traffic and urban life in general, had found solace in Fafard’s reminder of a simpler time.
Clearly, Liz Meighen felt a powerful connection to the animals. When we reached them, Liz went to Potter, rubbed his flank, then moved to Valadon and stroked her back. Finally, she went to Teevo, the calf, and rested her hand on his head. Her movements, as Beverly’s had been, were artless and sure. “You and Bev are so much alike,” I said.
There was sorrow in Liz’s smile. “Nothing you could have said would please me more. I miss Beverly every second of every day. I tell myself that she was in my life for thirty-eight years, and that I should be grateful for that.”
“I know. After my first husband died, I tried to hold on to the fact that we had had almost twenty good years together.”
“You wanted more,” Liz said simply. “So did I. I wanted Beverly’s to be the last face I saw before I died.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “But it wasn’t to be. This Friday is the anniversary of Bev’s death. I’ve been keeping very much to myself this past year. I’m going to allow myself one last day of grieving and then I’m going to rejoin the world.”
When I turned onto Halifax Street, I saw that Debbie Haczkewicz’s grey Ford Fusion was parked in front of our building. As I waited for the gate that led to our parking garage to open, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. Standing in the wet grass looking at the Fafard cattle, I had found a measure of peace. Whatever news Debbie brought would inevitably shatter that peace. The red speedboat’s passage towards the unknown was inexorable. All I could do was hang on to the rope and hope for the best.
Debbie and Zack were at the dining room table having coffee when I came in.
“Perfect timing,” Zack said. “Debbie just told me she has some intriguing information.”
I kicked off my pumps, gave Zack a quick embrace, and took the chair next to Debbie’s. “Shoot,” I said.
Debbie raised an eyebrow. “Hold on because this one’s a doozie. Cronus named Zack as his executor and sole beneficiary.”
Zack leaned towards her. “You’re kidding.”
“No. The lawyer who handled Cronus’s will called thismorning to say that since Cronus named you as next of kin, executor, and sole beneficiary, we should deal with you.”
“Who’s the lawyer?” Zack asked.
“Darryl Colby,” Debbie said.
“The cherry on the cheesecake,” Zack said. “Darryl’s one of the few lawyers in town who really gets under my skin.”
“It’s his aftershave,” I said. “It’s industrial strength.”
“I’ll remember to conduct all my business with Mr. Colby electronically,” Debbie said.
“I won’t have that option.” Zack rubbed his eyes. “You know, this really is sad. I barely knew Cronus. To me, he was just another case.”
“Well, you obviously meant something more to him,” Debbie said.
Zack’s face was sombre. “I know, and I’ll do everything that needs to be done. I’m assuming you won’t be releasing the body for the foreseeable
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