Unknown Diners

Chapter Twenty-Three

The women watched Lorne closely as the two men approached and sat. Catherine nodded to Rachel and smiled.

"So, Lorne, Kate was telling me nature smiled kindly on you, to use her first euphemism." She laughed. "The language she needs to use to keep her stories the shade of blue her editors want, often confuses me. I finally wheedled out of her that your schlong hangs halfway to your knees." She glanced toward his lap then up to his eyes with a smile.

Lorne smiled back and raised his eyebrows. "She exaggerates — a bit." Then he looked at Catherine and smiled wider.

"I have the report here from the compost heap," Michael said with a chuckle, as he pretended to read something in his hands. "It seems the ladies' room report is not far off."

Lorne looked eye to eye to eye. "This is so refreshing, so healthy and so very much non-Catholic. It's strange, isn't it? My parents' early prohibitions and shushings prompted my curiosity. I couldn't figure out why the taboo."

He looked at Catherine. "Strange, isn't it? If my curiosity causes me to examine your elbow joint to see how it works, or to see how your hair grows the wondrous shapes of your eyebrows, is that wrong? Is it evil to study the junction between your skin and toenail? The intricate folds and curves of your ear? Why can I look at your nose in innocence? Marvel at the change of skin between chin and lip? Why are these permitted, but we're denied even acknowledging the existence of the parts we use to create life? Religion sucks — all religions. Catholics don't have a monopoly on hypocrisy and perversion."

Catherine squeezed his thigh, then rubbed it. "We need to get back to the simple, healthy attitude we had as kids. Innocent, accepting. A body part is a body part. Unfortunately, you had a lot of Catholic shit dumped on you."

Catherine looked into her father's eyes, raised an eyebrow and saw the light nod. "So Daddy? You saw?"

"A simple fix. I'm far from being a surgeon, but I don't think it would be difficult to put that thing right." He chuckled. "With its size, they won't need microsurgery."

Earlier, in her phone call from the boat, Catherine had briefed her father about Lorne's fragility and hinted of its source as she talked with him below decks. She had spoken of encouragement, support, acceptance, humour, lightness, enfoldment, and so on, running out of words as she approached the steps leading into the cockpit. You'll know how to do it, Daddy, she had said.

She smiled at her father and nodded, then relaxed further. The men resumed talking about climbing, and Catherine continued discussing with her mother about pregnancy and what to look forward to.

The late afternoon sun started moving behind the trees in the hedgerow, shading them and prompting Michael to glance at his watch. "Seventeen forty. What are your plans for the evening? We could do dinner here."

Catherine turned to Lorne, saw his light shrug, and said, "We had been thinking of having dinner at the new place by the pier in Chemainus — you could join us — what's it called, Lorne?"

"The Driftwood."

Michael curled his lip and shook his head. "Fancy menu, but you'd do better at a White Spot. God, even at a Denny's."

"I suspected it was another of those." Lorne sneered as he nodded at Catherine. "The reviews seem to follow the pattern."

Michael listened with a puzzled expression. "Another of those? The pattern?"

Lorne explained what they suspected was happening with restaurants, with reviews and the apparent manipulation, while Michael and Rachel nodded. "We've seen an increasing amount of that. Couldn't believe most of the reviews horrid places were receiving," Rachel said. "Remember that one in Victoria a few weeks ago after the first night of the Wine Festival? That took the meaning of awful to another level."

"We've decided to always seek personal recommendations from people whose palates we trust." Michael stroked his beard and continued, "So you suspect there might be something widespread behind this?"

"Lorne mentioned it last week at a restaurant opening. Another place trying in the old Lumière location."

"What happened to Roberto? That was a thriving place. They sold a lot of our wine." Michael stroked his chin whiskers more vigorously. "How long have you suspected something? That somebody might be manipulating?"

"A week and a bit, maybe two —"

"I haven't thought about this in a long while, but Nathan was hinting at something odd before he headed out that night." Catherine stared at Lorne, opened her mouth wide and sat speechless.

Lorne put his hand on hers and pulsed it gently as he tilted his head. He could almost hear her mind grinding.

She shook her head. "I was hyper-busy. I had a lot of research to do. Probably wasn't listening — missed the details. He wanted me to come with him. I begged off. Too busy with a big rewrite and my editor pressing. He went on his own — God, I wish I could remember where it was. I tried to for so long to remember for the police."

She put her hands to her face, slumped her shoulders and remained silent for a long while, then began in a monotone, "His dismembered body was found two weeks later by a vagrant in a Gastown alley. Apparent cause of death, blood loss." She grimaced. "Pieces missing. Those are all the clues they have. I wish I could remember where he had been going that night."

She lay her head on Lorne's shoulder, and he held her.

"His computer? No hints in it?"

"He had it with him. He often wrote on the go. Disappeared, and his iPhone also."

"Backups? Sticks?"

"Nothing. We've been through everything many times. There was not a hint of where he had been going. His office is still as he left it. Sifted through by the investigators, but it's all still there."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "This hasn't gotten us far with our plans for dinner — except not to go to The Driftwood."

"Well this is easy then," Rachel said. "Stay here, dine with us."

"Spend the night. Kate still has her bedroom here." Michael laughed loudly. "Maybe you two can play doctor again."

"Or mummy and daddy." Catherine giggled, then told them about how she and Lorne as kids had tried so many different ways, searching for the special way to hold. The one Mummy had said made babies. She broke out laughing as she finished, "We were so innocent then." She turned her head to receive Lorne's kiss. "We still want to make babies. Innocent ones."