A Night's Tail

chapter 12

Burtis showed up at the library right after lunch. He set a small metal box on the circulation desk. “Found something I thought you might be interested in,” he said.

I recognized the box. We used similar ones to store the oldest newspapers in our collection. I lifted the lid. Inside I found three copies of Phil Major’s College Football Preview. Each one was encased in a plastic sleeve, a piece of corrugated cardboard at its back and what I recognized as acid-free tissue separating the front and back covers from the rest of the pages.

I looked up at Burtis. “These magazines are in excellent condition.”

“I got some older than you are,” he said with a grin.

I carefully removed one from the box. “I don’t recognize the magazine.”

“Unless you’re a big ball fan you wouldn’t,” he said. “They do a college football edition and one for the pros. Been puttin’ them out since 1973. Phil Major wrote for Sports Illustrated in the sixties and then went to work for ABC Sports after that. He died about ten years ago. Sports Illustrated bought the magazine and kept the name. I have every issue right up to the most recent two. These three have articles with references to Lewis Wallace back in his college days. I thought they might save you some time.”

I carefully removed one of the magazines from the box. The librarian in me was intrigued even without my desire to know more about Lewis Wallace. “Do you know where he played his college ball?” I asked.

Burtis nodded. “Saint Edwin University. It’s in Pennsylvania. Good football school. Wallace got a degree in business. The boy was a decent player pretty much all four years he was there. Had a couple scouts lookin’ at him in his freshman year but in the end he was just too small. He did stay and even got his degree but he struggled with the academics and had to be tutored to graduate.”

He patted the side of the metal box. “There’s a mention of a cheating incident Wallace was supposedly involved in during sophomore year.” He smiled. “Don’t mean to ruin the ending but it didn’t amount to anything.”

“Thank you, Burtis,” I said. “I’ll be very careful with your magazines and I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can.”

“I know you will,” he said. “I hope you find something to help.”

When I got home that evening, I discovered that Ethan was making spaghetti sauce, Derek was on his phone, Hercules was hiding under that table, Owen smelled like oregano and Milo was standing on a kitchen chair washing the ceiling above my stove.

Milo was the only one who didn’t avoid my gaze. “Trust me, you really don’t want to know,” he said. Since I saw no need for bandages or the fire department, I decided he was right.

After supper Milo and Derek headed to their bed-and-breakfast, and Ethan decided to go for a walk. I’d taken Burtis’s magazines upstairs to my bedroom. I set the storage container on the bed and pointed at the cats. “Stay on the floor,” I said. “These belong to Burtis and I don’t want anything to happen to them. That means no kitty paw prints, no kitty drool and no kitty hair anywhere near these magazines.”

Hercules made disgruntled grumbles and retreated to the closet, probably to rearrange my shoes again. Owen made a show of washing his face even though he’d already done that downstairs. I could see him sneak peeks at me from time to time.

I was on my second article when Marcus called. He was going to be testifying in a case that went back more than two years and the prosecuting attorney was going over every tiny detail with him.

“We’re taking a break,” he said. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m glad you called,” I said. “Burtis loaned me several magazines. I’m reading about Lewis Wallace.”

“Have you discovered anything yet?”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “Both articles I’ve read so far are pretty short. The most interesting thing was a photo of Lewis Wallace in his freshman year where he looks more like sixteen than nineteen.” Wallace had been standing in front of a large brick building next to a large wall plaque with what I guessed was the college seal featuring the words “Virtus, Veritas, Honestas.”

Marcus lowered his voice. “I’ve been looking into some of the people who lost their businesses to Wallace and his partners, but so far I haven’t come across anyone I think might have murdered the man.”

“If I find anything at all in the last magazine I’ll let you know,” I promised.

I’d just said good night to Marcus and laid my phone down on the bed when Owen launched himself from the floor. The metal storage box went over sideways and though I thought the top was secure, it opened and the third plastic-covered magazine slid onto the bed.

Owen made a wide circle around the box and the magazines and made his way up to the pillows.

“Hey! What did I say?” I asked. Burtis’s magazine seemed to be fine.

“Merow,” the cat replied.

“Exactly!” I retorted. I didn’t have a clue what Owen’s response had been but given the way he was ducking his head and looking everywhere but at me I was pretty sure he knew what he’d done was wrong.

I pointed at the door. “Out,” I said, maybe a bit more dramatically than was needed.

Owen walked to the side of the bed, jumped down and left, complaining all the way. I got up and closed the door, peeking in the closet on the way by to see that Hercules was asleep, curled up on my favorite black pumps.

I picked up the magazine that had fallen out of the storage box and slipped it from the protective cover. It turned out to contain a short article about whether or not college athletes were getting meaningful degrees, or as the author of the piece asked, just a useless piece of paper so they managed to stay academically eligible to play. The article referenced the cheating scandal at Saint Edwin University during the previous football season. Lewis Wallace and two other members of the team had been accused of selling the answers to an accounting final—a required course for many of the players—to their team members, the same way they were alleged to have sold the answers to the midterm. As Burtis had already told me, Wallace turned out not to have been involved.

My phone rang then and I stretched to reach it. It was Melanie Davis.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Kathleen,” she said, “but I have a potential quilt show problem.”

“What is it?” I asked. I thought Patricia had gone over every detail. What could have gone wrong?

“Our chef tried the cookie recipes that Patricia dropped off. The lemon crinkle top ones are fine but he thinks the almond shortbread are too crumbly when the recipe is changed to make so many at once. And it’s just not practical to make them in small batches. For what it’s worth, I agree with him.”

I put the magazine I’d been reading back in its protective sleeve. “How can I help?”

“Before I tell Patricia, I need a third opinion. I know she doesn’t like last-minute changes and I’m hoping there’s strength in numbers.”

“I can come down and try a cookie right now if that helps.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Melanie asked. I could hear voices in the background, which told me she was still at the St. James.

“You’re offering me cookies,” I said. “I don’t mind.”

I told her I’d be there in a few minutes and ended the call. I put all the issues of Burtis’s magazines back in their storage container and made sure the lid was secure. I opened the closet door partway. Hercules in turn opened one eye and yawned.

“I have to go down to the hotel for a few minutes. I won’t be long. Ethan will be back . . .” I had no idea when Ethan would be back. “At some point,” I finished.

Hercules yawned again.

There was no sign of Owen in the hallway, the living room or the kitchen. He was probably in his lair in the basement, plotting something like the mustache-twirling villain in an old black-and-white movie. Or maybe he was chewing on a catnip chicken. I knew I was guilty of attributing human motivations to much of Hercules’s and Owen’s behaviors, when sometimes they were just being regular cats.

When I arrived at the St. James I checked at the front desk and the staff member working there told me that Melanie was in her office and I should head down. The lobby was busy with guests coming and going from their rooms and people heading to the restaurant and the lounge. I felt something brush against my leg, stepped to the left and almost bumped into two men pulling their suitcases, heads bent over their phones. I turned down the hall toward Melanie’s office and the crush of people was gone, which meant there was only one explanation when once again I felt something brush against my leg.

I stopped and looked around. There was no sign of a certain devious furball, no indication that there was a cat in the hallway at all, but I knew he was there. Owen had stowed away in the truck. He was getting a lot better at it, I thought. In the past he would have given himself away, made a sound, knocked something over. I would have realized he was beside me on the seat, silent and invisible. He must have been in the kitchen when I left, walking out beside me.

“Owen, show yourself,” I hissed. Of course he didn’t.

I leaned forward and swept my arm all around in front of me a few inches above floor level, hoping I’d touch him even as I knew he was sitting just beyond my grasp, likely amused by my effort.

An older woman I took to be a visitor at the hotel came down the hallway, frowning when she saw me.

“Arm went to sleep,” I said, smiling a little maniacally. I noticed she stayed close to the wall as she passed me. Maybe I should have told her I was an orchestra conductor doing my daily exercises instead.

“You’re never going to have another sardine or a sardine cracker in your life if I don’t see you right now,” I said. It was an empty threat and the little tabby cat knew that.

We were approaching Melanie’s office. Just then she stepped out into the hallway, smiling when she caught sight of me. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “That was fast.”

“Well, you know, cookies,” I said.

Behind her Owen appeared, only for a few seconds, just long enough for me to see him walk into the office.

Melanie reached behind her and pulled the office door closed. She put her keys, which were on a bright blue lanyard, around her neck. “The chef’s waiting for us in the kitchen,” she said.

The cookies were delicious and very pretty—heart-shaped with one side dipped in white chocolate—but they were also very crumbly.

“You’re right,” I said. I had crumbs on my fingers and the front of my sweater. “They’re too messy for the library.” And for Patricia with all those quilts around, I added silently. “Can you give me until morning before you call Patricia?” I asked Melanie. “I may have an idea to offer her that will work better.”

She brushed a couple of stray crumbs from her violet-colored blouse. “Gladly.” Her phone pinged then. She read what was on the screen and sighed. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she said. “It seems we have a couple of disgruntled guests in one of our luxury suites.”

I still had half a cookie in my hand. “Go take care of it. I can find my way back to the lobby.”

She thanked me again for coming. I told her I’d talk to her sometime after lunch, and she left.

I thanked the chef for his help, retraced our steps all the way to the lobby, then waited a moment until both staff members at the front desk were busy with customers and headed down the corridor that led to Melanie’s office. I had a furry trespasser to pick up. I walked like I belonged and no one stopped me.

When I tried to open Melanie’s office door it was locked. It must have locked when she closed it. Now what was I going to do? I jiggled the handle and from inside heard an answering meow. I had to get Owen out before Melanie came back or someone caught me lurking there.

She hadn’t set the touchpad lock when we’d gone to try the cookies so all I had to do was get the actual door lock open. I looked at the six-panel wooden door and realized the lockset was like the one on the door to the tai chi studio. I remembered what Milo had done to show Maggie how inadequate the lock was on the studio door. Would that trick work here? I didn’t have a better option.

I fished my library card out of my wallet and slipped it into the crack between the door and the frame. It took two tries but I got the latch open.

I slipped inside, using the flashlight app on my phone so I could see what I was doing. I found Owen perched on the leather chair in the corner.

I glared at him. “What are you doing?”

He blinked at me and his nose twitched.

I had no idea why he’d wanted to get inside Melanie’s office other than he knew I didn’t want him there. I brushed at the gray-and-red blanket, hoping he hadn’t gotten any cat hair on it.

There really was nothing that should have caught his attention: the old desk, the photo of the Riverwalk, one of the calendars that he and Hercules had posed for, the tiny plaque with the words “Valor, Truth, Honor.” Just typical things you’d find in most offices. I reached for the cat and heard a noise outside in the corridor. We were caught. Well, I was caught. Owen could just disappear again.

I closed my eyes for a moment. When Melanie opened the door I’d simply tell her that I came back to leave her a note and got stuck in her office. It was embarrassing, but not the end of the world.

Then I heard the beep of the digital lock and realized that Melanie wasn’t coming in. She was just locking the door.

I bolted across the small space. “Hello? Hello?” I called out, banging on the door with the flat of my hand. “Melanie! Hello?”

Nothing.

She was gone. She hadn’t heard me. Now what? I pounded on the door again. “Hello? Is anyone out there?”

No one came.

I made my way back to the chair and sat down. Okay, I’d just call Melanie instead, tell her my leaving a note story and get her to come let me out. Slightly more embarrassing but not by much.

There was no signal.

I rubbed the space between my eyes with the heel of my hand, remembering Melanie telling me she kept her office door wide open because the stone and concrete in this temporary office tended to disrupt the cell signal.

It seemed to be getting stuffier in the small space. Owen nuzzled my chin. “Okay, this isn’t a big deal,” I said. “I’ll just use the phone on Melanie’s desk to call her.” I took a couple of deep breaths. It was definitely getting stuffier.

I made my way over to the desk, using my phone like a flashlight in one hand and carrying Owen with the other. I tried to push what Melanie had said the other day about the phone in her office out of my mind: Some days I have a landline and some I don’t.

I picked up the receiver. Today was a don’t.

My heart raced. This couldn’t be happening. I leaned against the edge of the desk, consciously breathing more slowly, willing my heart rate to slow down. I had a crazy sensation that I was going to use up all the air in the room if I didn’t stop breathing so rapidly.

My knees were shaking and I slid off onto the floor. I was stuck inside this tiny office with no windows, stuck inside a space that was really the bottom of a closed-off ventilation shaft. My chest tightened and I couldn’t get any air. I pressed my free hand to my chest and took several shaky breaths. I really didn’t like small spaces.

Owen rubbed his face against my cheek, reminding me that I wasn’t all alone, reminding me that we’d been in worse situations and gotten out. I swallowed a couple of times and wrapped both arms around him. “Okay, what do we do?” I said.

Owen wriggled out of my grasp. I tried to grab him but he was too fast. He was already prowling around Melanie’s desk. “Forget it,” I told him. “There’s no secret passageway out of here. This is the secret passageway.”

He ignored me, moved round the desk and put a paw on the brass grate on the wall. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Merow,” he said. Was he trying to suggest a way out?

I nodded slowly. “Maybe.”

I remembered Melanie saying the ventilation shaft was made of brick. It was old and maybe worn and uneven enough to climb. I felt like we were running out of air even though logically I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew I either had to climb out or spend the night in the office. Pounding on the door and yelling wasn’t going to help. What were the chances anyone would be in this part of the hotel for the rest of the night?

I looked at my phone again. I still had no cell service, not surprising considering I was at the bottom of an old ventilation shaft. The thought of spending all night in that room left me on the edge of panic. Climb it was.

I used the multipurpose tool on my key ring and got the brass grate loose on one side. The opening wasn’t very big but it was big enough.

“You first,” I said to Owen.

He peered into the darkness and then looked at me. He seemed doubtful.

“We’re kind of out of options,” I said. I shined my phone into the hole and Owen stepped through. I followed him.

Since we were at the bottom of the ventilation shaft there was a floor to stand on. The space was very, very dark even with the light from my phone. I forced myself to take slow breaths. I never should have gotten involved in Marcus’s case. I should have checked the truck seat because I knew how much Owen liked stowing away. I bent down, picked him up and stuffed him inside my jacket, zippering it almost closed so that just his furry head was poking out.

“This is my fault,” I said. “I’m the person. You’re the cat. I’m the one who is supposed to know better.”

“Mrr,” he said.

“We’re going to get out of this. We got out of that cabin before it exploded and we’re getting out of here. And this is the last time I am ever getting stuck in a small space. From now on we’re only going into big cavernous areas. Canyons, hockey rinks, airplane hangars.” I knew I was rambling but it helped distract me from panicking.

The shaft was maybe four feet square, no more. I put my hands out and felt the brick sides. The brick was in much better shape than I’d expected. I didn’t feel any place that I could get a handhold. And then my hand touched something cold and smooth. Metal. I shone the light up and there it was, a ladder mounted flush to the side wall. It must have been something workmen had used to maintain the tunnel. It could be close to a hundred years old. I took hold of the bottom of the ladder with both hands and pulled. It seemed to be fixed securely to the brick.

We could get out.

“You can do this, Katydid,” I could hear my mom say in my head. “Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.”

I gave one more yank on the bottom rung of the ladder. It didn’t move.

“Hang on,” I said to Owen. I reached for the highest rung I could grab and pulled myself up. The ladder held. I started to climb.

Because I needed both hands, my phone was in my pocket and I had no light. It was the darkest place I’d ever been in, but eventually up above me I saw a tiny glimmer of reflected light. A way out?

I was wheezing. My arms and shoulders burned. I was doing more pulling myself up the rungs than climbing. As I made my way up, I realized the faint bit of light I could see was coming from another grate-covered opening to my right. I was guessing we were about level with the floor above Melanie’s temporary office. This had to be a way out.

I leaned sideways for a better look. Was that one of the rooms that were being renovated? And how was I going to get the grate off the hole in the wall?

I pulled myself up until my feet were level with the grate. I eased Owen more to my left side. “Almost out,” I told him. I felt his cold nose on my neck.

I moved as far to the right of the ladder as I could, holding on with my left hand and bracing my right hand on the brick above the grate. Then I lifted my foot off the ladder and kicked the grate.

It gave just a little. I waited, listening, hoping maybe somebody would hear me and come to investigate.

Silence.

It took three more kicks but the grate finally fell back into the room. Now all I had to do was shift ninety degrees and reach that opening.

I felt around in the darkness with my foot and found a small foothold, a break in the mortar around two bricks. For a moment it would have to hold all my body weight.

I took hold of the right side of the opening with my right hand, stretching as far as I could. I wedged my foot against the brick. I thought of tai chi, moving fluidly from one movement to the next.

I took a breath.

I let it out.

I moved.

I grabbed the left side of the shaft with my other hand. For a moment I teetered there and then I moved my other foot over, ducked my head and shoulders into the cramped opening and threw my weight forward, rolling to my right side as I did to protect Owen. My right foot slid off its foothold but enough of my body was inside that I didn’t fall.

For a moment I just lay there, half of me in the opening and half of me out, trying not to throw up. Owen wriggled out of the top of my jacket and shook himself. He licked my chin.

“We’re all right,” I wheezed.

After a couple of minutes I pulled my legs into the room and sat up. There was construction debris all around us. We were in what was probably going to be the men’s bathroom. A urinal lay on its side next to me. I started to laugh as much from relief as anything else. This was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done, but we’d made it.

I got to my feet and replaced the grate by propping it against the wall. I brushed as much dirt and dust off of myself as I could.

I wasn’t wasting any more time in the room. I wanted to be outside, where there was lots of fresh air to breathe and lots of space.

I stepped into the corridor. Owen wriggled out of my grasp and walked down the middle of the hallway as though he were a guest.

“Great. Now you want the whole world to see you,” I said. Somehow he knew that now I wanted him to vanish so he wasn’t going to do it.

I heard voices. “Half a sardine,” I said in desperation. His left ear twitched but he kept walking, both of which I could see because he was still visible.

I took two long steps, leaned forward and swept him up just as a man and woman came around the corner. I smiled pleasantly and said “Good evening” as we passed each other.

Owen squirmed but I had a good grip on him this time. I made it to one of the side doors, went down a flight of stairs and stepped outside. For a moment I just stood in the parking lot taking deep breaths of cool, fresh air. Finally, I speed-walked to the truck, where I deposited Owen on the seat. He refused to look at me.

I leaned sideways. “Next time take the half a sardine,” I told him.

Owen sulked as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. He continued his pout as we drove up Mountain Road. I pictured Melanie’s office. I hoped I’d gotten any cat hair Owen may have left on the scarlet-and-gray blanket.

“Scarlet and gray,” I said aloud. From the corner of my eye I saw the cat finally look at me. “Those are the colors of Saint Edwin University.”

I pictured the school seal in one of the magazines Burtis had loaned me and the Latin words on it: “Virtus, Veritas, Honestas.” Valor, Truth, Honor. Gray background. Red lettering.

“Melanie Davis went to Saint Edwin University,” I said slowly. There was no other logical explanation for the woven blanket and the plaque on the wall. Melanie had told me she had worked with Wallace briefly but she barely knew him. She hadn’t said they’d gone to the same college. Coincidence? Lewis Wallace died in the hotel she managed. There was no way that was a coincidence. It had to mean something. The question was, what?