Free The Glass Coffin by Gail Bowen

his wedding day seems a bit harsh.”
    “Evan’s very controlled.”
    “Good,” Alex said. “Given the condition of his friend, he’ll need to be.”
    Alex and I walked into a party mellowed by hot jazz, great food, smart talk, and servers who had been instructed to allow no glass to remain empty for longer than ten seconds. The room couldn’t have been more welcoming, but I felt Alex grow tense beside me. He could have faced a firing squad without flinching, but social situations were agony for him. Out of habit, I squeezed his arm; then, suddenly feeling awkward, I withdrew my hand and, anxious for a purpose, searched the crowd until I found Evan. He and Jill were making the rounds, accepting congratulations.
    For the first time that day, Jill seemed genuinely happy, her face flushed with the pleasure of being with friends again. When she spotted Alex, she gave me an impish smile. After my relationship with him had come to an end, Jill had called from Toronto every night for a month. She was the only one who knew how deeply Alex’s brief affair with another woman had wounded me, and that night she couldn’t hide her pleasure at seeing us together again.
    As soon as she and Evan came over, she held out her arms to Alex. “It’s so good to see you,” she said. “I don’t need to hear the details. I’m just glad you’re here.” Jill turned to her new husband, “Evan, this is Alex Kequahtooway – Inspector Alex Kequahtooway of the Regina Police Force. Alex, Evan MacLeish.”
    Alex offered his hand. “Congratulations,” he said.
    “Thanks.” Evan was tight-jawed as he took Alex’s measure. “Am I wrong in assuming there’s more on your mind than wishing us well?”
    Alex didn’t falter. “No, I’m here on police business.” His eyes met Jill’s. “I’m sorry, Jill. I really was hoping I could talk to Mr. MacLeish alone.”
    “We seemed to have closed that option,” Evan said.
    “I guess we have,” Alex replied. “So here’s the situation. A man’s body was found behind the Hotel Saskatchewan this afternoon. We have reason to believe the deceased is Gabriel Leventhal.”
    Jill’s face grew dangerously pale. “Was it his heart?” she asked.
    Alex took out his notepad. “Did Mr. Leventhal have a history of heart problems?”
    Evan answered for her. “He had a history of hypochondria. Last night he thought he had an angina attack. He said it was mild, but it was obvious he was shaken.”
    “When did this happen?” Alex had his pencil poised.
    Evan looked away. “I don’t know. Sometime in the night. Gabe’s room at the hotel was across from mine. I was asleep. I heard a knock at my door, and it was Gabe. He said he was experiencing some pain in his shoulder and he thought he should go back to New York and consult his doctor.”
    “Did you suggest he see a doctor here?” Alex asked.
    “Why would I? He was a hypochondriac. A hundred doctors could have told him his heart was sound and it wouldn’t have changed anything.” Evan’s tone was flat, the way his daughter’s had been when Jill asked Bryn if she’d been disturbed by seeing her aunt wear Annie Lowell’s wedding dress.
    Evan’s lack of emotion goaded me. “What happened to ‘Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a great battle’? You knew what kind of battle Gabe was fighting, why didn’t you check to see if he was all right?”
    “Jo, I’m attempting to get some answers here.” Alex’s warning was clear, but I ignored it.
    “So am I,” I said. “I want to know why a man I cared about froze to death in the snow and was run over like an animal.”
    “Then let me do my job,” Alex said. He turned back to Evan. “You were saying that it was midnight when you last saw Mr. Leventhal alive.”
    “I can help with the time,” Jill said. She looked stunned, but she knew how to follow a story. “I was staying at Joanne’s, and Gabe phoned me there – it was around one-thirty when he called. He said he needed to