A Murder Misstery Aloft

Wondering how to maintain my sanity until then, I decided to kill some time at an Internet café. As always, I began by Googling my old name to see if there was any news about Matt McCoy. Instead, I got the shock of my life when I found my father's obituary on the Chicago Tribune website:

Bradford T. McCoy, age 71, of Winnetka, IL. Beloved husband of Marie, nee Rickerson of Winnetka; dear father of Michael McCoy of Evanston, Mark McCoy of Barrington, and the late Matthew McCoy of Chicago; devoted grandfather of two; fond brother of Beatrice (the late Arnold) Foster of Fort Myers, FL. Retired owner and President of Great Lakes Industries. Vet U.S. Navy. Funeral Services 3 p.m. Monday, at the St. James Cathedral, 55 East Huron Street, Chicago IL. Burial private.

Tears were streaming down my face as it slowly sunk in. My father and I had never been close, and my thoughts turned more towards my mother, widowed and facing the rest of her life alone. She was fortunate in that my two brothers and their families resided in the Chicago area. With chagrin, I realized that Matthew McCoy was a sad footnote to our family's history...at least my father's death notice didn't mention that his youngest son was wanted for embezzlement and murder before he fled the country and committed suicide disguised as a woman!

Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the need to be there with them. Impulsively, I logged onto on online travel site and searched for flights to Chicago, before I stopped myself. Returning to the United States would expose my bogus passport to the scrutiny of US immigration officials, and there was a good chance that it would be flagged as a forgery. Think, Maddy...what if I were to fly to the Canadian side of the border and cross into the USA unobtrusively? It didn't take me long to come up with a plan.

I wasn't sure how my family would react to me, but I was determined not to embarrass them, or myself. Returning to Montreal's subterranean shopping mecca, I searched until I found a tasteful black dress, black hose and simple pumps which were appropriately funereal. I also stocked up on some more cold weather clothes. Then it was back to my room for a restless night in my lumpy bed.