Gail Bowen - The Nesting Dolls

“You mean, which came first?”

“Right. Did Theo play around because Myra was a piece of work, or did Myra become a piece of work because Theo played around?”

A phone call at midnight seldom brings good news, but since I’d married Zack, the shrill of a telephone in our sleep-quiet house had ceased to terrify me. Clients and enemies of trial lawyers tend to keep irregular hours, and so as I groped for the phone the night after my visit to the Brokaws’, I was more resigned than alarmed. The voice on the other end of the line was low, breathy, and vicious.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” the voice said. “Listen.”

I kept the phone to my ear a beat too long before I started to hang up. My caller was obviously holding out the phone to pick up the noise in the room. The sound I heard was primal – a man keening a loss whose magnitude I could only imagine. I knew immediately that Myra Brokaw was on the other end of the line, and that I had somehow speeded Theo Brokaw’s descent into the abyss.

Beside me, Zack stirred and mumbled. I slid out of bed and moved across the room. “All right,” I said. “I’m listening, Myra. What’s happened?”

She spit out the words. “I found that picture you gave him – the picture of that ‘clever girl,’ as he calls her. I found it, and I made him watch as I ripped it up. There will be no more clever girls in his life and he knows it. Listen to him.”

Theo’s wails grew louder. Surprisingly, I was able to keep my voice steady. “Myra, Theo needs help. Take your husband to Emergency and get him admitted.”

Her laugh was harsh. “Oh, that would be perfect, wouldn’t it? Having Theo out of my control and medicated. Under those conditions, he would be capable of saying or doing anything. Believe me, I know. That would be the end of Mr. Justice Theodore Brokaw. That would be the end of the intellectual jewel of Canada’s Supreme Court.”

“Myra, if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Stay out of our lives,” she said.

“I will,” I said. “Good night.” I hung up, turned off the ringer on the phone, and crawled back into bed.

“Who was that?” Zack mumbled.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” I said. I put my arms around him and hoped he couldn’t feel the pounding of my heart.

In December in Saskatchewan, the sun doesn’t rise until almost nine, but dogs have their own internal clocks, and by five-thirty the next morning Willie and Pantera were pacing.

When I started to slide out of bed, Zack caught my wrist. “So what was that phone call in the middle of the night about?”

“It was Myra Brokaw,” I said. “I did something stupid, and she wanted to make sure I was aware of the consequences.”

“Stay here where it’s warm and tell me what happened,” Zack said.

I lay back down and put my arms around him. “Yesterday when I went to the Brokaws’, I had what seemed at the time to be a stroke of luck. Myra wanted to mail a gift, so she left me alone with Theo. As I’d planned to, I told him he had a daughter. He didn’t seem to grasp what I was saying, so I took out the family photo the Michaelses used as their greeting card last Christmas. Alwyn gave me hers for Jacob. The resemblance between Abby and Delia is so striking, I thought Theo might make the connection. Anyway, I showed it to him.”

Zack whistled. “That was a high-stakes move.”

“It was a stupid move.”

“Did Theo react?”

“He did,” I said. “He thought it was a photo of Delia. He called her ‘his girl,’ ‘his clever girl.’ He hid the picture in a magazine. Apparently, Myra found it. When she called last night, she told me she made Theo watch as she ripped it up. Zack, as long as I live, I will never forget the sound of that man’s anguish. It was terrible, and it was my fault.”

“You weren’t the one who ripped up the picture, Jo.”

“But I was the one who took it to the Brokaws’ home.”

“You had no way of knowing… ”

“The truth is I didn’t care. I just wanted the whole mess to be over. You were sick. We were both exhausted, and I was scared.”

“That’s not a crime,” Zack said quietly.

“Maybe not, but what I did to Theo was stupid, and now there are consequences.”

“The consequences may not all be bad,” Zack said. “What kind of professional help is Theo getting?”

“None that I know of. Myra anticipates Theo’s every wish. I think she enjoys the role of caregiver. She told me yesterday that a wise man realizes that when he’s lost everything else, his wife has to be enough.”

“But Myra isn’t enough. Theo’s problems are complex. I’m no expert, but I imagine that there are medications and therapies that could help him.”

“So you’re saying I can stop feeling guilty because Theo had to hit bottom before he could get the care he needs.”

“That’s about it.”

I kissed my husband. “Nice try,” I said. “But I’m not buying.”

When I got back from my run with the dogs, Zack was on the phone. “Ready for some good news?” he asked.

I peeled off my outer layers and flopped on the bed.

“God, yes.”

“That was Noah on the phone. He’s coming over later. He wants us to stop investigating Nadine Perrault.”

“Hallelujah,” I said. “I take it Nadine’s side will reciprocate.”

“Nadine has already agreed. Darryl Colby will shit bricks when he sees his golden goose slip from his slimy fingers.”

“Glad to see the flu hasn’t robbed you of your way with words,” I said. “So what happens now?”

“I guess that’s what Noah’s coming to discuss.”

“Will Delia be with him?”

“He didn’t say, but I can’t imagine this is a unilateral decision. Anyway, Izzy’s coming.”

“Taylor will be happy to hear that.” I looked at him carefully. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling better.”

“Honestly?”

“Absolutely. I had an erotic dream last night. That has to be a good sign.”

“The best,” I said.

“Kym’s coming over in a few minutes to give me a shower and shave.”

“Really,” I said. “So was the erotic dream about me or Kym?”

Zack smirked. “You know how erotic dreams are – everyone just kind of swims together.”

I turned so I could see Zack’s face. “What does Kym look like anyway?”

His expression was noncommittal. “Nice-looking, I guess – not as nice-looking as you.”

“That was the right answer,” I said.

He tapped his temple with his forefinger. “That’s why I earn the big bucks.”

The doorbell rang. “That must be Kym with a y,” I said. “I should have put on makeup.”

“Kym with a y doesn’t wear makeup.”

I groaned. “Now I really hate her.”

I opened the door to a red-headed bodybuilder with a brush cut, rosy cheeks, and a killer handshake. “You must be Joanne,” he said.

“And you’re Kym,” I said. “You have no idea how glad I am to meet you.”

I stood aside to let him come in. After he’d taken off his boots and jacket, Kym rubbed his hands together. “This warmth feels good. I had a cold walk from home.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the old nurses’ residences down by the General.”

“Nice digs,” I said.

“They are,” he agreed. “Hardwood floors, high ceilings. Big rooms. Neighbourhood’s a little sketchy, but you can’t have everything. How’s Zack this morning?”

“Trying to do too much, but I don’t say anything.”

“Very wise,” Kym said. “Why don’t I go spiff him up? Give you a break.”

On the way down the hall, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided I could use a little spiffing up myself. Taylor was already in her studio so I showered in her bathroom, and helped myself to her copious supply of beauty products. The result was a decided improvement. I made coffee, tried to call Taylor, but her cell wasn’t on, so the dogs and I walked through the snow to her studio. This time when I knocked, my daughter came to the door instead of inviting me in. “Troubles?” I said.