“Was Edmund Pym married?” asked Cameron.
“His marriage ended many years ago,” said Bridgette. “Ed lost track of his wife after the divorce and he had no idea how to get in touch with her at this late date.” She shifted the manila envelope in her arms and frowned pensively. “He didn’t tell me that his daughter had abandoned him. He kept saying that Bree would come to see him the next day, and the next, but . . . Bree never came.”
“It sounds as though you spent a lot of time with him,” I observed.
“I’m a critical care nurse,” she said. “I try to spend as much time as I can with each of my patients. I was with Ed when he died this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, with a sympathetic nod. “I’m sure you were a great comfort to him.”
“His daughter would have been a greater comfort,” Bridgette remarked.
“Did Ed tell you anything else about her? ” Cameron asked.
“He told me that Bree’s middle name—Aroha—is the Maori word for love,” Bridgette answered, her expression softening. “He said that she’d turned eighteen recently. Last night, he asked me to tell her that he was sorry.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For drinking himself to death, I imagine,” she replied. “Pneumonia killed A. J., but his son succumbed to alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver. It wasn’t the first time we’d seen Ed at North Shore, but it was the first time he’d been in the critical care unit. A. J.’s death set the stage for Ed’s final, fatal binge.” She glanced at her watch. “Forgive me, but I must get back to work. I’m already late for my next shift.”
“What will you do with Ed’s body?” I asked.
“We’ll hold it until we run out of room in the morgue,” said Bridgette. “If no one claims it by then, we’ll bury it in the public cemetery.”
“What about his personal effects?” asked Cameron.
Bridgette held up the manilla envelope. “I brought them with me, to give to his daughter, but now . . .”
“We’d be happy to give them to her, when we find her,” said Cameron.
“Thank you, but personal effects can be released only to the next of kin.” Bridgette shifted the envelope to the crook of her arm, pulled a card out of her jacket pocket, and handed it to Cameron. “I’d be grateful to you if you’d give her my card. I need to hear from her as soon as possible.”
“We’ll let her know,” he said, tucking the card into my shoulder bag.
Bridgette thanked us again, then hastened back to her car and drove off. I turned to stare at Cameron.
“I’m all for the grand gesture,” I said, “but have you lost your mind? First you shovel money into the hands of that loudmouthed harpy. Then you promise Nurse Bridgette that you’ll find Edmund Pym’s daughter. What on earth do you think you’re doing? ”
“I’m helping you to deliver the letter you traveled eighteen thousand kilometers to deliver,” he replied.
“I traveled eighteen thousand kilometers?” I said faintly.
“Bill told me you weren’t the sort of woman who lets her friends down,” Cameron continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I assumed, therefore, that you’d want to go after Bree Pym, and I can’t let you run around New Zealand on your own. You’re a stranger in a strange land, remember? You don’t know a takahe from a huhu grub.” He cocked his head to one side. “Was I wrong? Would you prefer to tell your friends that their last hope of reuniting their family fizzled because you didn’t even try to find their great-grandniece?”
“No,” I said uncertainly. “But how are we going to track down an eighteen-year-old girl who left home six weeks ago?”
“We start,” said Cameron, “by searching her flat.”
As he fitted the key into the lock, I began to suspect that Cameron Mackenzie could teach me a thing or two about being bossy, bullheaded, and nosy.
Eight
We can’t search the flat,” I protested. “We’ll be arrested for trespassing.”
“Only if someone calls the police,” Cameron said. “I won’t call them, and I think I bought the landlady’s silence.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Are you going to turn us in?”
“Very funny,” I retorted. “But now that you mention it . . . Why not call the police? They’ll find Bree a lot faster than we will.”
“They won’t even look for her,” said Cameron. “Legally, Bree Pym is an adult. As far as the police are concerned, she’s free to come and go as she pleases. Unless we find evidence to suggest that she was kidnapped, they’ll have no reason to look for her.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lori, but if we want to find Edmund Pym’s daughter, we’ll have to do it without help from the authorities.”
He turned the key in the lock and tried to open the door, but he had to put his shoulder to it before it would open wide enough for him to slip inside.
“Coming? ” he said.