Free Flight of Aquavit by Anthony Bidulka Page A

down to put on
    some much needed coffee. He’d been coveting my
    Starbucks, but I wasn’t in the sharing mood.
    Daniel’s office was a corner suite with a metal-
    and-glass desk parked in front of two large win-
    dows that looked out into the parking lot, a barren
    area beyond it and some indistinguishable ware-
    house type buildings in the distance. Given the
    dark outside there wasn’t much to see, but I
    guessed the same could be said in full daylight.
    The rest of the room was more glass and stainless
    steel furniture that looked nice but not necessarily
    comfortable, and pale walls sporting several mas-
    sive Darrell Bell originals: stunning watercolours
    of lazy rivers carelessly winding their way
    beneath turquoise skies and through wooded hills
    of ochre, vermilion and pumpkin umber. I could-
    n’t help wonder if these impressive canvases were
    placed here to make up for the rather drab view.
    Although each piece was worthy of closer perusal I
    didn’t have time to lollygag. I only had a few min-
    utes for skullduggery.
    76 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
    I headed for Daniel’s desk. I picked up a pho-
    tograph in a surprisingly heavy silver frame. It
    was of four people, two men and two women.
    One of the men was Daniel; the other was a distin-
    guished-looking character probably ten or fifteen
    years older than my client, with greying hair thin-
    ning at the top and a slightly buck-toothed smile.
    Next to him was a woman with short blond hair
    who, although not as old as the man, was definite-
    ly older than the other woman, whom I took to be
    Daniel’s wife. She had dark, curly hair and a
    roundish, pleasant face dusted with freckles.
    “Russell?”
    That was quick. I turned around to see Daniel
    looking a little more like his usual put-together
    self. I indicated the picture in my hand and said,
    “Just admiring the photograph.” He eyed the
    photo as he closed the office door and took a seat
    behind his desk. “This must be your wife,” I said
    about the brunette, “with all the freckles.”
    “Actually no,” he said. “The woman next to
    Mick is Cheryl.”
    I took another look, trying to hide my surprise.
    Pictures are sometimes deceiving, but Cheryl
    Guest looked several years older than her hus-
    band. Either that or she’d spent too much time in
    the sun. She was attractive, but…well, there was
    no other way to say it: she had a mess of wrinkles
    on her face. “And Mick, the other gentleman, is a
    partner here?” I asked, still trying to gloss over my
    obvious snooping.
    “Please,” Daniel said, playing the gracious
    host, “take a seat. The coffee’s going to take a few
    Anthony Bidulka — 77
    minutes.”
    I replaced the picture on the desktop and
    plopped down in the stiff metal chair he indicated.
    “The Soloways are our next-door neighbours,”
    he told me. “Mick and his wife, Anita, are close
    friends of ours.”
    I nodded politely.
    He sighed. “I’m sorry about…about earlier and
    for insisting on meeting you here so early and,
    well…”
    I waved it off. “Don’t mention it.” I pulled a
    sheaf of photocopied photographs out of the
    leather folder I’d brought with me and placed
    them on the desk in front of him.
    “What are these?”
    “Copies of photographs of young, blond actors
    who’ve appeared in the last three Persephone
    Theatre plays.”
    He looked up at me and smiled. “You’re good.”
    Yup. “Now it’s your turn. Is one of them Jo?”
    He glanced at the closed office door as if some-
    one with X-ray vision might be behind it, then,
    satisfied no one was spying on us, began a careful
    study of each picture. He stopped on the fourth
    one.
    “It’s him,” he said in a hush, gazing at the like-
    ness.
    I leaned closer and looked at the gap-toothed
    actor, a pleasant-looking young man. “Are you
    sure that’s him?”
    “That’s him,” he said without hesitation.
    I reached over and flipped the picture so we
    could read the information on the