A Night's Tail

chapter 4

The color had drained from Melanie’s face. “We have to do something,” she said, taking a step forward. I caught her arm and she turned to look at me, clearly confused. “Kathleen, that’s . . . that’s . . .” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I know him. His name . . .” She cleared her throat. “His name is Lewis Wallace.”

“He’s past our help,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, a frown creasing his forehead. He leaned sideways a bit and because he was taller he could see Wallace’s body. He swore softly under his breath. “Kathleen, is that . . . ?”

I nodded. “Call nine-one-one,” I said. “Please.”

“Are you positive he’s . . . dead?” Ethan asked. “Someone should make sure.”

“I’ll uh . . . I’ll check.” The way Wallace’s body was slumped over at the table, the mottled color of the skin on the side of his face that was visible told me he’d been dead for a while, but I made my way over to him and felt for a pulse at his neck. As I’d expected, I didn’t find one. This wasn’t my first dead body.

I glanced back over my shoulder at Ethan and shook my head.

He nodded, took a few steps away from us and pulled out his phone.

I took a quick look around the meeting room. There was a box from Sweet Things on the table. A chair was overturned and I saw pieces of a broken glass on the floor next to Wallace’s feet. Had Wallace done that or had there been some sort of struggle with someone else?

Across the room I spotted what looked like an orange-capped pen against the leg of the whiteboard stand. Nothing else seemed to be out of place. I stepped back and pulled the door shut.

Melanie seemed to have regained her composure. She swallowed a couple of times and stood up a little straighter. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she said. She cleared her throat and stared at the closed door. “I’ve just never seen a dead body before.”

I gave her arm a squeeze. “It’s okay,” I said. She’d said she knew Lewis Wallace. I wondered what their connection was.

As if she’d read my thoughts, she turned her gaze back to me. “I . . . worked with Lew, briefly, years ago. Before he showed up here at the hotel a few days ago I hadn’t seen him in years.”

Ethan walked back over to us. “The police are on their way.”

“Someone should meet them at the front entrance,” Melanie said. “This is going to be upsetting for some of the guests. I, uh . . . I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to tell them.”

“If anyone asks all you have to say is that a guest was taken ill,” I said. “It’s true as far as any of us know at the moment.”

Melanie nodded. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” She looked at the door. “I should probably lock that just to be safe.”

“Good idea,” I said.

Melanie relocked the door. She smoothed her black pencil skirt. “I’m going to wait out front,” she said. “If any of the staff show up just send them out to find me.”

Ethan couldn’t seem to stop moving. He’d been pacing back and forth in the hallway, hands going to the cord bracelet around his wrist, to his phone, raking through his hair, picking at his shirt. He looked at me now. “That Wallace guy, he’s dead dead? For real? Are you sure?”

I looked at him without speaking and he seemed to remember who he was talking to. “Never mind. I’m sorry. Forget it,” he said, waving one hand in the air as though he were trying to wave the words away.

Derek was leaning against the wall, his guitar propped next to him. He was so pale I thought he might pass out. “I didn’t want him to end up dead,” he said.

I nodded. “I know. The man was a jerk but nobody wanted him to die.”

I turned my attention back to Ethan. It seemed to me that I could feel the nervous energy he was giving off the same way that I could feel the heat from Harrison Taylor’s woodstove when I sat beside it.

“Do you have a class list and contact information for your students?” I asked.

He stopped pacing to look at me. “Yes,” he said and it seemed to dawn on him that people were due to be arriving soon. “What am I going to say to them?”

“Just say that due to unforeseen circumstances you have to cancel the workshop. Apologize for it being last minute and say that you’ll be issuing refunds in the next twenty-four hours.” I slipped my messenger bag onto my other shoulder. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Ethan thought for a moment but Derek was already nodding. “We can do that.”

“You probably should get started, then,” I said.

The two of them bent their heads over Ethan’s phone.

I rubbed my stomach with one hand. It ached. It was a familiar feeling.

The responding police officer was Officer Stephen Keller, ex-military, tall, square-shouldered and serious. We’d met under these types of circumstances before. He gave me a quick nod of recognition.

The paramedics were right behind him. I recognized them as well, Ric Holm and his partner. Ric and I had first met when I’d been injured escaping from a house just seconds before it exploded. I awakened wrapped in blankets on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance with a very pissed-off Owen sitting on my stomach and Ric beside me. It was the first time he’d given me first aid but as it turned out it hadn’t been the last.

Melanie had returned with Officer Keller and was unlocking the meeting room door.

“So what’s going on?” Ric asked. He wore navy blue pants that must have had at least half a dozen pockets and a short-sleeved navy shirt with a patch on one shoulder that said Mayville Heights Paramedic. A stethoscope was draped around his neck.

“There’s a man inside, dead at one of the tables. His name is Lewis Wallace,” I said. I held on to the strap of my messenger bag, running my hand along the tightly woven webbing.

“Did you check for a pulse?” Ric asked.

I nodded. “I couldn’t find one. And . . . and I know what someone looks like when they’re dead.”

Melanie opened the door and Ric and his partner quickly made their way over to Lewis Wallace followed by Officer Keller, who shut the door behind them. The two paramedics weren’t in the room very long. Ric came out, pulling off a pair of blue latex gloves. “Is everyone okay out here?” he asked, looking around.

“We’re good, Ric,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Take care, Kathleen,” he said. “I hope next time I see you it’s under better circumstances.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

Marcus arrived then. He put a hand on my shoulder. “You all right?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“We’re all fine,” I said.

“What’s going on?” He was already pulling a pair of gloves similar to Ric’s from his pocket.

I explained briefly what had happened, how Ethan and Derek were supposed to be giving a workshop and I’d had a meeting planned with Melanie. She nodded in agreement.

“Melanie was just going to let Ethan and Derek into the room—this room—and then the two of us were going to her office to talk about the quilt show,” I continued. “She opened the door and we both saw Wallace. I checked but he was already dead. I’m the only person who actually went into the room.”

Marcus’s blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Did you say Wallace? Do you mean Lewis Wallace?”

I nodded.

He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Everyone, please, just stay here,” he said.

There was a long wooden bench in the main hallway in front of an emergency exit and a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. I sat down. I knew we were going to be a while.

Things got busy after that. Marcus came back out after a few minutes, talking on his cell. He had more questions for both Melanie and me. He spoke briefly to Ethan and Derek. They hadn’t seen much so that didn’t take very long. By then the crime scene techs had arrived.

Marcus spoke to one of them and finally came back and stood in front of me. I got to my feet. “You can go home, Kathleen,” he said. “I told your brother and Derek to stay around because I’ll need to talk to all three of you later. You know how these things work.”

I did know. I wished I didn’t. “We’ll stay at the house,” I said. “Call me when you get a chance.”

“I will,” he said and his hand brushed mine for a second.

I promised Melanie that I’d call her and we’d reschedule. I collected Ethan and Derek and we headed home. No one said a word on the drive up the hill.

“Marcus is going to have more questions for us later,” I warned as I pulled into the driveway. Derek was sitting close to the passenger door. I looked around Ethan. “Derek, why don’t you stay here for a while?”

He swiped a hand over his face. “Yeah, I think I will. Thanks.”

There was no sign of Owen or Hercules. I knew the latter could be anywhere given his ability to come and go as he pleased. Owen had to be somewhere in the house. I had my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t “appear” at the wrong time.

We’d been home for about fifteen minutes and I’d just poured myself a cup of coffee when Maggie called.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “I’m making pizza. Don’t make any plans for lunch.”

I leaned against the counter. “Thank you,” I said. I hadn’t even thought about lunch. “Oh, Ethan and Derek are here.”

“It’s okay. It’s a big pizza,” she said.

Ethan had come out to the kitchen while I was talking to Mags. He poured himself a cup of coffee. It struck me that our coffee habit was another way we both took after our mother. Thea Paulson was beautiful, charismatic, opinionated and stubborn. All three of us had inherited that stubborn streak. Ethan definitely had Mom’s stage presence and charisma.

My parents had each been married twice. Both times to each other. Ethan and Sara were the result of their reconciliation. I was fifteen and mortified by the undeniable proof that my mother and father, who I’d thought were barely on speaking terms, were actually much closer than that.

“That was Maggie,” I said, ending the phone call. “She’s bringing pizza.”

A smile flashed across Ethan’s face. I didn’t think it was because of the pizza. It wasn’t my overprotective big-sister imagination. Ethan had a bit of a crush on Maggie. I opened my mouth to say something and took a sip of coffee instead. This wasn’t the time.

“I’m going to make a couple of phone calls,” Ethan said. His hair was sticking up all over his head. I caught myself reaching out to smooth it down the way I had done when he was a kid and stopped myself. Ethan wasn’t a kid anymore and I needed to remember that.

I poked my head in the living room, where Derek was sitting on the sofa with his laptop. “Coffee’s ready,” I said.

He gave me a tight smile, or what passed for a smile at the moment. “Thanks,” he said, setting the computer on the sofa cushion beside him and getting to his feet. He looked tired and a bit gray. Unlike Ethan, who burned off his stress by constantly being in motion, it seemed that Derek kept what he was feeling inside. He poured a cup of coffee, added two sugars and stirred distractedly as he checked his phone. His mouth pulled to one side and he jammed the phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

Derek let out a breath. “Yeah. Liam hasn’t answered my text.” He shook his head. “Kids.”

“What does he want to study in college?” I said, mostly to fill the silence.

“Communications or maybe recreation. It doesn’t matter.” Derek made a dismissive gesture with one hand.

“It doesn’t?” The confusion I was feeling had to be showing on my face.

“Liam’s going to play in the NFL. What he studies doesn’t make any difference.” Derek took a sip of his coffee. “We’re headed for the big time. All that other stuff is just background noise.” He took his cup and went back to the living room.

A college education was just background noise? Once again I found myself missing Jake and his scraps of paper covered with pencil sketches.

I decided I’d go over the plans for the quilt show and see what information I could e-mail to Melanie. I sat down at the kitchen table and Owen suddenly appeared at my feet, a little too suddenly. He launched himself onto my lap, peered at my cup and then looked around. As far as Owen was concerned a cup of coffee was an excuse for a brownie or a cookie or even a piece of toast with peanut butter. He loved peanut butter.

“No treats,” I said, stroking the top of his head.

He made a murp of dissatisfaction.

“Maggie’s bringing pizza later.”

Immediately, he lifted a paw and took a couple of passes at his face. “You look very handsome,” I assured him.

Owen loved Maggie—something he and Ethan had in common it seemed. Owen followed her everywhere, sat with a rapt look of adoration at her feet and had on more than one occasion dispatched an errant rodent, which in turn meant that Maggie was also crazy about him. She—along with Rebecca—kept him in catnip chickens and sympathized with him over his antipathy toward the music of Mr. Barry Manilow, whom both Hercules and I adored. Aside from the fact that Owen and Maggie were different species, it was a perfect friendship.

Owen looked over the papers spread on the table in front of me. He switched his gaze to me and then cocked his head to one side and meowed, it seemed to me, in curiosity.

I felt self-conscious about having a conversation with a cat when Ethan and Derek were around although I did it all the time when I was by myself. “I’ll tell you later, I promise,” I whispered. That seemed to satisfy him.

Maggie arrived just before noon with the pizza.

“It smells wonderful,” I said.

“It should go in the oven for about five minutes,” she said, kicking off her boots and coming into the kitchen in the wildly striped socks that Ella King had knit for her.

“I thought you might say that, so I’ve already warmed it up.”

With the pizza in the oven Maggie shrugged off her coat and scarf and leaned down to say hello to Owen.

“Hey, Maggie,” Ethan said, coming in from the living room. He’d combed his hair and changed his shirt.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about my baby brother having a crush on one of my best friends. Not good, that was for sure, which made me feel guilty. Where was the harm? Since I’d been a teenager when Ethan and Sara were born my role had been part older sister, part second mother. More than once Ethan had reminded me that he already had a mother and she was more than enough.

“Hi,” Maggie said with a smile. Ethan took her coat and hung it up. Maggie snagged a little brown paper bag from one of the pockets. I knew what was inside.

“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head.

Ethan looked confused. “What?” he asked.

“You’re spoiling him.”

Now Ethan looked completely lost. “How is Maggie spoiling me? What did she do?”

“Not you,” I said. “Owen.”

The cat in question also knew what was in the bag. His golden eyes were locked on Maggie.

She took Fred the Funky Chicken out of the bag, leaned down and held it out. Owen took it carefully from her. The half-lidded look he gave her was pure bliss.

“Mrrr,” he said as he headed for the living room.

“You’re welcome,” Maggie called after him with a smile. She cleared her throat and her smile faded. “I know it’s Lewis Wallace who’s dead,” she said. “May he be welcomed by the light.”

Once again news had traveled around town faster than a New York minute. Given the speed the information had spread, maybe the expression should have been “a Mayville Heights minute.”

“I’m not going to ask what happened because I know Marcus probably told you not to talk about it,” she said as she caught one of the chrome chairs with her foot and pulled it out so she could sit down.

“Thanks, Mags,” I said, giving her a hug. “And for the record, when Owen decapitates that chicken—and he will—I’m calling you to clean it up!”

The pizza was fantastic as usual. Pizza making was one of Maggie’s skills. She’d dirty every dish in her apartment but the end result was always worth the mess.

About halfway through the meal the conversation turned to the missed workshop.

“Any chance we’ll be able to reschedule?” Maggie asked.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “We? I didn’t know you were taking the class.”

She nodded, gesturing with her fork. “Ruby talked me into it.”

Maggie was primarily a collage artist, although she also created detailed, fanciful drawings like the ones she’d done for the trail map of this area and the street map of the town. Ruby, on the other hand, created bold pop-art paintings in vivid neon colors and often hand-tinted her photographs.

“I didn’t know you were interested in writing songs.”

“I’m interested in the creative process in general,” she said.

Ethan leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “What would you like to know?” he asked.

They started talking about songwriting and I just listened. Derek was quickly pulled into the conversation. Both Ethan’s and Derek’s mood lightened as they explained their writing process to Maggie. The dark cloud that had been hanging over us since we’d gotten home from the hotel seemed to dissipate as the three of them talked.

When Maggie finally had to leave for her shift at the co-op store I walked her out. “Thank you for the pizza and the conversation,” I said.

“Anytime,” she said with a smile. “I like your brother.” Her expression changed. “I didn’t like Lewis Wallace but I’m sorry he’s dead.” She gave me a hug, hopped into her Bug and drove away.

I thought about what Maggie had said and told myself that the niggling unsettling feeling I had was just that, an uncomfortable sensation that was understandable given that I had just seen a dead body a few hours ago.

Marcus arrived midafternoon just as I was debating making cookies. He didn’t kiss me, which I assumed was because Ethan was in the kitchen with me.

“Have you had lunch or would you at least like coffee?” I asked.

He gave me a tight smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He seemed to be in working-cop mode, all business with very little of his emotions showing through.

“Is Derek here?” he asked.

“He went for a walk,” I said. “He was getting a little antsy but he should be back anytime now,” said. A knot was forming in my stomach. I tried to ignore it.

“I’ll wait,” Marcus said. “It’ll give me time to go over both of your stories again.”

I was just finishing explaining why I’d been so sure that Lewis Wallace was dead before I’d even checked for his pulse when Derek walked in. He seemed surprised to see Marcus.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” Marcus said. “I’d like you to come down to the station with me, please.”

“Why?” I said. The knot in my stomach was knitting itself into a giant lump. “Marcus, what’s going on?”

“Is Derek under arrest?” Ethan asked. I didn’t like the challenge in his voice or his expression.

“No one is under arrest,” Marcus replied. “I just have some questions.”

“Ask them here.” Ethan’s back was up. I could tell from his body language, legs wide apart, hands moving through the air.

“The station would be better.” In contrast to Ethan, Marcus’s voice was steady and quiet.

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek said. “I don’t mind going.” The pinched lines on his face told me that might not be the truth.

Ethan made a gesture with one hand like he was swatting a bug away. “No, it’s not fine. They think you did this.”

Marcus shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ethan retorted. “It’s pretty obvious.”

I stepped between them. “It’s because of what happened at the bar, isn’t it?” I searched Marcus’s blue eyes for some clue to what he was thinking.

“And the altercation in front of Eric’s. Yes.”

Derek’s face reddened and he glanced down at his feet.

Marcus looked at Derek. “I just have to hear your side of things,” he said. “On the record. That’s all.”

Derek looked up. “Really, it’s fine,” he repeated. He glanced at Ethan then shifted his attention to Marcus. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said.

Ethan pushed past me, blocking Derek’s way. “Don’t do this,” he said between clenched teeth.

Derek shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not like I wanted the guy dead.” He reached for his jacket, which was hanging on the back of a chair.

I looked at Marcus. “Brady,” he mouthed.

I gave an almost imperceptible nod and the two men left.

Ethan swore, turned away from the door and folded both arms up over his head. “Derek didn’t do this,” he said. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone, even an asshole like that Wallace guy.” He looked at me. “Go after Marcus. Talk to him. Do something!”

I reached for my phone, punched in a number and waited. “I am doing something,” I said.

When Maggie answered I asked if Brady was with her, mentally crossing my fingers that he was.

“He’s right here,” she said. “Would you like to talk to him?”

“Please,” I said.

Maggie handed over the phone to Brady and I gave him the highlights of what had just happened. “I know I’m interrupting your Sunday, and I’m putting you on the spot.”

Brady laughed. “I wouldn’t have gone to law school if I didn’t want to be put on the spot. And you’ve met my father. Shy and quiet is not in our DNA. I’m on my way.”

I thanked him and ended the call.

Ethan had been watching me. “That was Maggie’s boyfriend or whatever the heck he is; Brady, right?”

“Yes, that was Brady; yes, he and Maggie are friends,” I snapped. And yes, you should stop mooning over her like some smitten teenage boy, I added silently. “He’s on his way to the station.”

“You don’t have to bite my head off.”

“And you don’t have to act like a child when Marcus is just doing his job,” I said. I admired Ethan’s loyalty to his friend but I also had the urge to shake him at the moment. His behavior hadn’t helped anyone.

He pulled out his phone. “I need to let Milo know what’s going on.” There was a petulant set to his jaw.

I nodded, set my own phone on the table and decided I needed a bit of fresh air. “I’m just going outside for a minute.”

Ethan’s focus was on his phone. He lifted one hand to let me know he’d heard me but he didn’t say anything.

“Ethan,” I said.

He looked up at me then.

“For the record, Marcus is one of the good guys.” I didn’t wait for a response.

Hercules was sitting in his usual place by the window in the porch. I sat down next to him and explained what was going on. He made sympathetic noises. “You know what this means, don’t you?” I said. “Whatever happened to Lewis Wallace wasn’t an accident.”

A bit more than an hour later Brady brought Derek back. Milo had arrived by then. Everyone had questions and they were all asking them at once. Brady stood in the middle of the kitchen and gave a piercing two-fingered whistle. The room went silent.

“All Marcus wanted was to ask some questions about the times Derek had encountered Lewis Wallace,” Brady said. “He hasn’t been charged with anything. He’s not in any trouble.”

“So does this mean that Wallace guy was murdered?” Milo asked.

“For now, all the police are saying is that he died under suspicious circumstances. They won’t know anything for certain until the medical examiner does the autopsy.”

“This could all turn out to be nothing, then,” Ethan said.

“Yes,” Derek said. “It’s not a big deal. A man died. The police aren’t sure what happened yet. They’re just trying to piece together his last couple of days. That’s it.” He turned to Brady and offered his hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Brady said.

They shook hands and I walked Brady out.

“Are things really okay?” I asked as we stood next to his truck in the driveway.

He nodded. “For the moment. Marcus did ask Derek to stay in town for now.”

I felt a little frisson of anxiety and I rubbed the back of my neck. “He doesn’t have an alibi, does he?”

The lines around Brady’s mouth tightened. “What are you getting at?”

I folded my arms over my midsection. I was suddenly cold. “I checked Lewis Wallace to see if he was still alive. His body was stiff but still warm. That means he’d been dead for more than a couple of hours—probably closer to seven or eight.” I hated that I knew that.

Brady sighed. “Derek says he couldn’t sleep so he went out for a walk.”

“Yeah, Ethan says Derek does that when he’s working on a song and he gets stuck.”

“In a bigger place someone probably would have seen him, but here . . .” He held up a hand and let it drop.

“Brady, did Marcus say anything about how Lewis Wallace died?” I thought about the quick glimpse of the meeting room I’d had. There was something I’d noticed: what I’d thought was an orange-capped pen on the floor on the far side of the room. Now I realized that it was more likely an EpiPen.

Brady shook his head. “He didn’t. I really don’t think he knows yet and if he has any suspicions he’s keeping his cards close to his vest, as my dad would say.” He smiled then. “Speaking of Dad, when are you coming out to the house to wax him again at pinball?”

I smiled. “Is he still making noise about a rematch?”

Brady’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Oh yeah.” He was a pretty good player himself but not quite as good as I was. I’d spent a lot of time unsupervised as a kid.

“He still claiming the floor was uneven?”

“That, too.”

Brady had bought a pinball machine at the weekend market several months ago. It was out at his father’s house. Both Marcus and Burtis Chapman had bragged about their prowess on the machine. I’d told them I was pretty good as well. They hadn’t taken me at my word. “Once this case is wrapped up I’ll be out,” I said.

“I’m holding you to that,” Brady said, pointing a finger at me.

“Thanks for bailing me out, again, figuratively speaking,” I said.

“Anytime,” he said.

I went back inside and found Ethan waiting for me in the porch; Hercules was sitting beside him on the bench. They both looked up at me.

Ethan got right to the point. “Derek couldn’t kill anybody.”

Hercules meowed his agreement.

I rubbed my neck again. The knot in my shoulders was working its way up the back of my head. “No one said he did. Marcus is just doing his job. He’s asking questions and gathering information. I told you. He’s one of the good guys.”

“Yeah, well, Derek is one of the good guys, too.”

“I never said he wasn’t.”

Ethan exhaled loudly. “That’s good, because Derek didn’t do anything and you need to find out who did.”