A Night's Tail

chapter 11

Zach stayed busy after that. It wasn’t difficult to see he was avoiding Maggie and maybe me as well. “I’m sorry,” I said to Maggie. “I know you like Zach but I have a feeling there’s something he didn’t tell us. His disdain for Lewis Wallace is too deep to be just over him kicking that service dog.” I had told them about Redmond Signs on the drive out to the bar.

Maggie ran a finger down the side of her glass. “I know,” she said. “You think it has something to do with his grandfather’s business. But I just can’t see Zach killing someone. He helps out with the seniors’ yoga class. I know he’s a bit of a flirt, but he’s not a creep.”

“Lewis Wallace died from an allergic reaction, didn’t he?” Roma asked.

“Yes,” I said, snagging three fries from the basket. Roma had already eaten half of them.

“So maybe Zach didn’t kill the man. Not deliberately, I mean. Maybe when Wallace couldn’t breathe Zach didn’t realize the significance and just walked away. Maybe it was a crime of omission, not a crime of commission.”

I shrugged but didn’t say anything. Smashing food into someone’s face was a deliberate act. So was keeping an EpiPen away from someone who needed it.

Roma’s words seemed to cheer Maggie up a little. “When are the guys coming back?” she asked.

“Sometime on Monday,” I said.

“Aside from the thing with Wallace and the dog it was fun Friday night. We should do it again before Ethan leaves.” She looked at Roma. “At a time when you and Eddie can be there.”

Roma nodded. “I’d like that.”

“We could even go to Barry’s Hat,” Maggie said, nudging me with her elbow.

“I like that idea,” I said, making a face at her. “And Ethan wanted to check the place out.”

“Oh, he already did. That’s where we went the night we were celebrating Derek being cleared as a suspect.”

We?

“I didn’t know you went out with the guys that night.”

She reached over and grabbed a French fry. “Yeah,” she said. “Ethan invited me and it sounded like fun.” She smiled. “It was.”

So Maggie had gone out with Ethan and the guys. Maybe Ethan’s interest in Maggie had gotten a bit of inadvertent encouragement.

On my other side, Roma was still eating the crispy fries as though she expected them to disappear without warning.

“Roma, did you eat anything today?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. Then she frowned. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I know I cooked a lot. Hockey players eat a lot. Even ex–hockey players.”

I pushed the basket sideways so it was directly in front of her. I had a feeling Roma had done a lot of cooking and very little eating for the past several hours. “Maybe they could all go to Fern’s for breakfast tomorrow. The big breakfast sounds like just the thing for them.”

Roma licked ketchup off of her thumb. “Maybe I should go to Fern’s for breakfast. A big breakfast sounds like just the thing for me.”

Maggie and Roma dropped me off at Marcus’s house at about ten thirty. I hugged them both and thanked them for their help and I promised I would talk to Ethan and work out a way for us all to get together before he went home.

As I climbed out of the SUV, Maggie turned and said, “You know, I still have those strands of fairy lights from Roma and Eddie’s wedding.”

“And, as you know, my living room is the perfect spot for a wedding,” Roma added.

“What are you two, the marriage police?” I asked.

“Yes,” they both said and then dissolved in laughter.

Maggie and Roma had conspired to get Marcus and me to a happily ever after from pretty much the moment he and I had met. Roma had paired us up to volunteer with the feral cats at Wisteria Hill and Maggie had sent Marcus and me on our first date of sorts by giving Marcus her ticket to the final concert at the Wild Rose Summer Music Festival but “forgetting” to tell me what she’d done. They had all but wrapped me up with a red ribbon and deposited me on his doorstep, and the only reason that hadn’t happened was because the idea hadn’t occurred to them.

“Good night,” I said as I closed the car door. I waved over my shoulder as I walked up the driveway. I was pretty sure they were still laughing as they drove away.

Micah was waiting for me on the railing of the back deck, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Hi, puss,” I said.

She meowed a hello and I stroked her marmalade-colored fur. Once again I felt a twist of guilt knot in my chest. I’d suspected very early that the little cat had the same sort of abilities as my two did and I wasn’t really that surprised when she had winked out of sight one day. But I hadn’t said a word to Marcus. I kept avoiding it, making excuses, and I didn’t really have a good reason. I trusted him, didn’t I?

Micah jumped down from her perch and crossed the deck to the back door. She looked over her shoulder at me and meowed once again. I knew she was telling me to hurry up.

Marcus smiled when I stepped into the kitchen and pulled me into a hug. “Hi,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be this early.”

“Roma ate all the French fries so we figured it was time to leave,” I said.

“Want some hot chocolate or are you too full of fries?” he asked as I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. Micah had disappeared somewhere. I hoped not literally.

“First of all, there is no such thing as being too full for hot chocolate,” I told him. “And second, Roma really did eat most of the fries. It seems that she’s been feeding some of Eddie’s former teammates but hasn’t been feeding herself.”

He nodded as he moved to the refrigerator for the milk. “The guys I told you about. They came for a quick trip to take a look at the curriculum Eddie’s been working on for his hockey school.”

Eddie, nicknamed Crazy Eddie Sweeney in his playing days, had been working on an idea for a year-round hockey development school for a long time, but now that he had Everett Henderson involved it seemed a lot closer to reality.

“I hope the school works out for him,” I said.

“I think it will,” Marcus said as he reached for a mug. He poured the milk and stuck the cup in the microwave. Then he turned around. “Are you going to tell me what you found out?”

“I didn’t find out anything concrete.” Micah came in from the hall with what looked like a small scrap of paper stuck to one ear. She came back to the table, I patted my lap and she jumped up. I took the bit of paper off her ear and she shook her head vigorously.

“First of all, how would Zach Redmond have even known where Lewis Wallace was staying?” Marcus asked. “And if he had somehow gotten the information, how could he have known that Wallace was wandering around because he couldn’t sleep?”

“He could have made an educated guess about the hotel,” I said. “It is the nicest one in town. Maybe he just went there to talk to the man. The rest could have been a crime of opportunity.”

“In other words, you still think he could be involved?”

I nodded. “I do.” I explained Zach’s comment about karma. Before Marcus could say anything I held up the hand that wasn’t stroking Micah’s fur. “Yes, I know that’s about as substantial as dandelion fluff.”

He put a heaping spoonful of hot chocolate mix into the cup of hot milk and stirred. “I’m not sure that proves anything, Kathleen. Lots of people feel strongly about animals being mistreated, especially service animals. Rebecca, for example. Roma. Derek. You.”

“Rebecca is one of the most kindhearted people I know. She puts together shelters for the feral cats. She’s on the board of directors of the animal rescue. As far as Roma goes, she’s a vet. She was taking care of the cats out at Wisteria Hill long before she bought the place from Everett. Derek’s dad is a veteran and most important he was sorry about what happened. Zach isn’t even sorry that Wallace is dead.”

Marcus set the cup in front of me. He leaned down to kiss me. “Point taken,” he said.

Micah made an annoyed sound and jumped down to the floor again.

“No more talking about the case for tonight,” I said. I knew there wasn’t anything else I could do at the moment and going over what little I did have wasn’t getting me anywhere.

“Deal,” Marcus said, sitting down in the chair next to me. “Tell me about the rest of your day.”

I took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was good: dark chocolate, not too sweet and there were two fat marshmallows on top. “Let me see. We discovered licorice in the book drop, and before you ask, I don’t have a clue why. It took fourteen e-mails but Patricia and I have settled on what cookies will be served at the opening of the quilt festival. There’s a large truck tire in the middle of the gazebo. And somebody returned a book on minimalism with a list of all the things on their Amazon wish list stuck inside as a bookmark.”

“What kind of licorice?”

“What kind of licorice? I gave you irony, a mystery and cookies and you want to know what kind of licorice?”

He shrugged. “I like licorice.”

We talked about our respective days for a few minutes until I finished my hot chocolate. Marcus put my empty mug in the sink and pulled me to my feet. “Do you want a shower or a bath?”

“Bath,” I said at once. I loved his big, deep, claw-footed bathtub.

Over his shoulder Micah looked at me, seemed to shimmer for a moment and then disappeared.

“Go run the water, then,” he said. “I’ll lock up out here.” He looked around for the cat. “Where did she go?”

“Maybe she’s in the living room,” I said. Was my face getting red?

The moment he was out of the room the little ginger tabby reappeared. I knew what the cat was trying to tell me.

“She’s right here hiding under the table,” I called.

Marcus came back into the room shaking his head. “I can’t believe I looked right past her. Maybe I need glasses.”

The cat continued to watch me and I felt that knot of guilt again. As soon as this case is settled, I told myself. I had a feeling all three cats were going to hold me to that.

Marcus made breakfast the next morning—pancakes with applesauce, thick-cut bacon and lots of coffee. I sat at the table in the sweatshirt and jeans I kept at his place and thought how easily I could get used to mornings like this.

Before he drove me home, Marcus handed me my own take-out coffee cup filled with coffee. “You’re spoiling me,” I said.

He nodded. “All part of my plan.”

After he dropped me off he was going to stop at the station for a minute. I didn’t ask why. We agreed he’d be back after lunch and we’d go to the market.

Even though there was still snow on the ground and a cold crispness to the air, the market was busy. “I need to talk to Thorsten,” Marcus said.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to walk around for a bit. I’ll find you later.” I headed over to the Sweet Things kiosk. I’d had a couple of texts from Ethan letting me know things were going well. Maybe some celebratory cupcakes would be a good thing, I decided. And a good excuse to talk to Georgia.

“Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “What can I tempt you with?”

“I was thinking a half-dozen double chocolate,” I said, “but now that I’m here how about four of those, four mocha fudge and four lemon.”

“Excellent choices.” She began to box up the cupcakes. “I hope I didn’t get your brother in trouble over those muffins he bought,” she said, ducking her head.

“You didn’t.”

She gave me a sideways glance. “I think he has a bit of a crush on Maggie.”

I laughed. “I think you’re right.”

Georgia’s expression turned serious. “This will probably sound odd, but I’m kind of glad I had that . . . encounter with Lewis Wallace at Fern’s.”

It was the last thing I would have expected to hear. Wallace had harassed her all the way from the parking lot and acted offended that she wasn’t interested in his advances.

“Why?” I said. Georgia set the first box of cupcakes on the counter and reached for another container.

She shrugged. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but after everything that happened with my in-laws I’ve been looking over my shoulder for what feels like years wondering if I’d be able to deal with them, with anyone coming after Emmy and me again. What I learned from that . . . that creep—I’m sorry, but it’s the only word to describe him—is that I can take care of myself and Emmy and I have good friends if I need backup.” Her cheeks were pink but she held her head high.

I leaned across the counter and gave her a hug. “Anytime you need backup just yell,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Larry Taylor hovering around and it occurred to me that maybe Ethan wasn’t the only person with a crush.

I paid Georgia, set the two boxes of cupcakes in my canvas shopping bag and resumed wandering around. I made my way around two teachers from the middle school in an animated discussion about onion sets and discovered Burtis Chapman and Lita Clarke, Everett’s assistant, at the stall belonging to The Jam Lady. Lita was insisting that Burtis didn’t need two jars of marmalade, and he was buying those and some plum jam as well in a show of stubbornness.

I touched Lita on the shoulder and she smiled. “Hello, Kathleen, how are you?” she said.

“I’m well,” I said, “Thank you. Could I borrow Burtis for a minute?”

“Of course you can,” she said. “In fact, I may let you keep the old coot.”

Burtis just laughed. “You can’t get by without me,” he said.

Lita patted his cheek. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Burtis and I started to walk. “What do you need?” he asked. That was Burtis. He got straight to the point.

“What do you know about Canadian football?” I could have looked up the information, but this would be faster.

“This have anything to do with that Wallace fellow’s death?” He was wearing his battered Vikings cap.

“Maybe.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’re you after?”

I shifted my shopping bag to my other hand, careful not to disturb the cupcakes. “Right now, just information.”

“Fair enough. First of all, in Canadian football the field is larger—wider and longer. Second, the end zone is bigger.”

“Is that it?” I asked.

Burtis shook his head. “Not even close. Up there you only get three downs to make ten yards. Not four.”

“So Canadian football is more pass-oriented.”

He gave me an approving smile. “You learn quick,” he said. He eyed me for a moment. “What kind of information are you really lookin’ for?”

I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for. Melanie had told me that Wallace had “supposedly made a bunch of money” playing in Canada, which didn’t exactly jibe with the whole loaning-money-to-small-businesses scheme he’d been involved in. Simon had said he didn’t think Wallace had gotten rich playing in the CFL. Marcus liked to say two of the most common reasons for murder were love and money. Was money the reason Lewis Wallace had been killed? I had no idea.

I stopped walking and turned to face Burtis. “I know Lewis Wallace wasn’t good enough to play in the NFL, but was he good enough to be a star in Canada?”

Burtis took off his cap, smoothed down what little hair he had and put it back on again. “If you’re asking if the man became some kind of superstar up there, I can promise you the answer is no. Football is not big business in Canada. Never has been.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“I mean your average player in the CFL makes less than a hundred thousand dollars a year. Woulda been a lot less in Wallace’s day.”

We started walking again, dodging my neighbor, Mike Justason, and his boys.

“So Lewis Wallace didn’t make his money playing football.”

Burtis shook his head. “No, girl, he didn’t. Whatever money the man had came after he stopped playing.” He eyed me for a moment. “This help at all?”

“It might,” I said. I smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be out for another game of pinball soon.”

He pointed at me. One of his huge hands was large enough to cover my head. “I’m not going to take it easy on you next time,” he warned.

I wasn’t fooled by his stern expression. Like Lita, I patted his cheek. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

I could hear him laughing as I walked away.

Marcus made supper at my house and we played War, a card game Eddie’s daughter, ten-year-old Sydney, had taught him. Marcus lost.

He slumped in his chair. “How did you do that?” he asked. “This is a game of chance, not a game a skill, and you still beat me.” He was referring to the fact that I regularly beat him at road hockey and pinball and I’d beaten him at cup stacking at Roma and Eddie’s wedding—another thing Syd had taught him.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at Owen and Hercules. “Are you helping her somehow?” Hercules got up from the spot by my chair where he’d been lying, flicked his tail and left the room. Owen yawned as though the question bored him.

“Did you win when you played Syd?” I asked.

“Not exactly.” His gaze didn’t quite meet mine.

“You either did or you didn’t,” I said as I gathered our mugs. “It’s not really a sliding scale.”

“Okay, I didn’t.”

I kissed him as I moved past him on the way to the sink. “Maybe you’re just not lucky.”

He caught my hand and pulled me onto his lap. “Maybe I just used up all my luck on more important things,” he said before he kissed me.

Mary was working with me the next morning at the library. “What do you think about Zach Redmond?” I asked. I figured she probably knew him since she’d danced at the club more than once. We were sorting the books from the book drop. At least there hadn’t been any licorice in it this time.

“You mean do I think he could have killed that a-hole your brother’s friend punched?”

Trust Mary to get right to the point. I set the book I was holding down on the counter. “Since you put it that way, yes.”

Mary shook her head. “He’s a good kid and cute as a bug’s ear but I don’t think he has the ambition to actually carry out a crime. My mother would have said he’s not too work-brittle.”

“Which means?” I asked.

“He’s too lazy to put in the effort it would take to kill someone.”

The guys got back just after lunch. They came into the library, Milo in his cool-dude shades, Derek looking preoccupied and Ethan bouncing with energy like Tigger from the Winnie-the-Pooh books. It was easy to see things had gone well.

I gave Ethan a hug. “Did you miss me?” he asked.

I pretended to think about the question. “Let me see. No one’s six”—I held up the corresponding number of fingers—“different hair products on the side of my tub. Which, by the way, is probably more than Milo travels with. No cupcake crumbs, muffin crumbs or cookie crumbs all over my kitchen floor and no one drinking all the coffee before I even get my first cup.”

He held up a finger. “First of all, I do not leave cookie crumbs, muffin crumbs or I forgot what the first one was all over the floor.” He paused for effect. “Owen always gets them before they hit the floor.” He gave his head a shake. “And if you think this much pretty comes without upkeep, well, you are very, very mistaken.”

I laughed, shaking my own head. “Yes, I missed you,” I said.

He gave me a brief rundown of the three shows. Mary was at the front desk and by the time Ethan had finished telling me about their trip somehow she and Milo had gotten into a conversation about kickboxing. He turned to Ethan. “What was that thing you tried when we were in New York? It was some kind of martial art.”

“It was hot yoga,” Ethan said.

“I’ve been telling Maggie she should add a hot yoga class,” Mary said. “I tried it the last time I was in Chicago.”

Why didn’t I know that? I wondered. And what was hot yoga?

Derek joined me. Ethan had been pulled into Milo’s conversation with Mary.

“It sounds as though things went well,” I said.

“Better than that,” he said. “There was a record producer at one of the shows.”

“Was he interested in the band?”

Derek shrugged. “Maybe. He didn’t make any commitment but he’s going to be in Boston next month and he’s coming to hear us again.”

There was something about the way he said “us” that caught my attention.

“Us?” I asked.

Derek nodded. “Milo and Ethan—and Devon—want me to join the band permanently.”

“Did you say yes?”

Derek was very talented, there was no question about that, but he didn’t have Jake’s easy-going personality. And whoever the guys hire to replace Jake is none of your business, I reminded myself.

“I need to think about it,” Derek said. “I have a lot of things on the go, other opportunities.”

“I hope everything works out for you,” I said.

Mary seemed to be sharing some kind of kicking technique with Milo and Ethan. Or maybe it was a dance move. I decided I didn’t want to know.

Ethan tried whatever movement it was that Mary had demonstrated and four books fell off the desk onto the floor.

I laughed. “I swear, one of these days he’s going to fall off the stage when he’s performing.”

Derek grinned. “Who says he hasn’t?” His smile faded as he studied me for a moment. “Kathleen, can I ask you a personal question?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“How did you do it? I mean, being a teenager with two new siblings? Most kids would have resented the heck out of them, but you guys are so tight.”

“Oh, I did resent the heck out of them,” I said. “But they were so little and they’d stop crying for me before they’d stop for anyone else. I used to get up and watch those late, late cheesy horror movies on TV. The two of them were always awake. I’d take them into the living room with me. Which is probably why both Ethan and Sara are night owls now.” I smiled at the memory. “They’re my family. I’d do anything for family.”

Something hardened in Derek’s expression. He nodded. “I know. Me too.”