A Tale Оf Two Kitties

chapter 5

Over the next few days Marcus was surprisingly closemouthed, even for him, about the murder. He canceled our plans twice and I tried hard not to ask any questions although I had plenty of them. Tuesday morning brought a third cancellation.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he called about nine thirty. “I know I said I’d take you to lunch today to make up for bailing on our dinner plans last night, but I have a meeting with someone from the medical examiner’s office.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I want you to find out who killed Leo Janes. If anything changes or if your meeting finishes early, call me.”

By twelve thirty he hadn’t called and I was getting hungry, so I decided to walk over to Eric’s for some chicken-noodle soup and maybe a big gooey brownie. I’d gotten out of the habit of walking around town and I really did miss it. I almost always met someone I knew and it was fun to see what was on display in the bookstore’s front window or what the latest fashions were at Abel’s Boutique.

Downtown Mayville Heights is laid out more or less like a grid. The streets that run from one end of town to the other all follow the sweep of the shoreline of Lake Pepin, which meant Eric’s was just down the street from the library. The cross streets mostly cut straight up the hill, all the way up to Wild Rose Bluff, where a lot of the stone that was used on many of the older buildings had come from.

When I’d first arrived in town it had taken a while for me to learn my way around, mostly because of the way streets and buildings were named—and sometimes renamed. For instance, Old Main Street followed the shoreline from the Stratton Theatre, past the library and the St. James Hotel all the way to the marina. Main Street continued from the marina to the edge of town, where it joined the highway.

Old Main Street was originally Olde Street, with an E at the end. It had been the main route from the lumber camps to where the marina is now. Over time Olde Street had morphed into Old Main Street. Still, having two Main streets made giving directions to people from out of town very confusing, compounded by the fact that the St. James Hotel had reverted to its original name, the St. James Hotel, after a decade of being just the James Hotel.

Ruby Blackthorne was standing at the counter at Eric’s when I stepped inside, waiting for a take-out order I guessed. There was a heavyset man with her wearing a woolen tweed coat with a striped black-and-maroon scarf knotted loosely at his neck. From the back he looked vaguely familiar.

Like Maggie, Ruby was an artist, albeit a lot more flamboyant. She’d added a streak the color of lime Jell-O to her hair since our last tai chi class and another piercing in her right ear. Ruby was also the current president of the artists’ co-operative and the two of us been working together a lot recently, looking for ways the artists’ co-op and the library could offer programs that would bring in visitors to both places.

Ruby turned as I came up beside her. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.

I smiled. “Hi.”

“Claire just went to get our order,” she said. “She’ll be right back.” She gestured to the man beside her. “This is my friend Elias Braeden. Elias, this is Kathleen Paulson. She’s our head librarian.”

Elias Braeden offered his hand and as I took it I realized I’d seen him before. He was the man who had come into the library just last week, the man who Leo Janes had thought for a moment looked familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kathleen,” he said.

Elias was a bit above average height with broad shoulders and a muscular build evident even under his heavy coat. His hair was a mix of gray and brown, as was his close-cropped mustache. He had piercing dark eyes and a lined, lived-in face.

“Do you remember me telling you that I worked as a singer and dancer at a resort for three summers when I was in art school?” Ruby said.

I nodded. “I remember.” Ruby had shown me photos of herself dead center in a kick line wearing high heels, sequins, a feathered headdress and very little else.

“Elias owned the resort. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He was a friend of my grandfather.”

“Ruby’s very talented,” he said.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed. “She did some wonderful paintings of my cats.”

“So you own Owen and Hercules? Ruby showed me the photos she took of them.”

I nodded. “Actually it’s more like they own me,” I said with a smile.

Claire came out of the kitchen then, carrying a large paper take-out bag.

Before Ruby could move Elias put a hand in front of her. “I suggested lunch,” he said. “This is on me. No arguments.”

“Like arguing with you would be anything other than a waste of time,” Ruby said with an indulgent smile. It was clear she was very fond of the man.

Elias moved to the counter and pulled out his wallet. He had massive hands, like a wide receiver, I noticed.

Ruby turned to me. “Elias is here because he’s thinking of buying the Silver Casino.” The casino was about halfway between Minneapolis and Mayville Heights. “He used to work for my grandfather when I was a little girl. That’s how they got to be friends.”

I nodded. Ruby’s grandfather, Idris Blackthorne, had been the area bootlegger, among other things, and had run an ongoing high-stakes poker game out of a small cabin in the woods close to Wisteria Hill. Given Elias’s size and huge hands, it wasn’t hard to imagine the kind of things he’d probably done for Idris. His presence alone had probably been very intimidating.

Elias rejoined us then, holding the take-out bag.

“Kathleen, Elias is a fan of old buildings,” Ruby said. “Any chance you could give him a tour of the library while he’s here?”

“I’d be happy to.” I smiled at the older man. “But I think you’ve already visited the building. Didn’t I see you come in one day last week?”

“You did,” he said. He had a charming smile, warm and genuine. “I had a bit of time to kill before a meeting but I’d love a tour if you happen to have the time some day.”

“I’d be happy to show you around,” I said. “Please stop in when you have time.”

“I may take you up on that.”

We shook hands. His grip was firm but not overpowering. “It was good to meet you,” I said.

Ruby waved good-bye to Claire. “I’ll see you at class, Kathleen,” she said.

They headed for the door and I moved over to the counter. I could smell Eric’s chicken soup and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

• • •

Mia walked in for her shift just before four thirty that afternoon. Mary and I were looking at the book drop, which was sticking again, mostly because someone—some delinquent hooligan, as Mary had put it—had jammed about two packages of chewing gum—strawberry flavored based on what we could smell—into the channels for the pull-out door. I was wondering if I should try to dig the gum out myself or just give in to the inevitable and call Harry, when Mary elbowed me.

“Kathleen,” she said, sotto voce.

I turned to see what she was looking at. “Give me a minute,” I said. I brushed off my hands and walked over to the teen. “Mia, you didn’t have to come in today.”

“I wanted to. That’s okay, right?” She looked a little uncertain. One hand played with the zipper pull of her jacket.

“Of course it is,” I said.

Mary joined us. She smiled at Mia. “I have something for you upstairs in the staff room. I found a couple of photos of your grandfather when he was about your age. I thought maybe you’d like to have them.”

Mia nodded and managed a smile. “I would like to have them. Thank you.”

“I’m going to try not to worry and hover,” I said. Beside me Mary made a strangled sound in her throat. I looked at her, narrowing my eyes.

She put one hand on her chest. “It’s dry in here,” she said. “Got a little frog in my throat.”

I turned back to Mia, who was still smiling. “If you need anything I’m going to trust you to ask.”

The phone rang then at the circulation desk. “I’ll get that,” Mary said, bustling across the tile floor.

“There is one thing,” Mia said, ducking her head. “You can say no if you want to.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Would it be too weird? Would you sit with Dad and me at the service on Friday?”

Simon had told me that since Mayville Heights was where Leo had grown up, he and Mia had decided here was where his father should be buried.

“Of course,” I said. I’d been planning on going to the service for Leo and if I could be there for Mia—and Simon—I was happy to. I’d felt helpless from the moment I’d found Leo Janes’s body and I was glad to finally be able to do something that might make a difference to Mia.

• • •

I stopped at the library after tai chi class to check on Mia. According to Abigail, she was handling being at the library just fine. While I was there I noticed more than one person share their sympathies with her and it seemed to do her good to hear how many people had known and liked her grandfather. The next evening went just as well.

Thursday night after tai chi I drove out to Marcus’s house.

He had called just as I was leaving for class. “I haven’t seen you in days,” he’d said. “I have pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies.”

“Well, for cookies I guess I could drive out,” I’d teased.

Marcus was just ending a conversation on his cell when I stepped into the kitchen. He looked tired, I thought. There were shadows under his eyes and I could see that he’d run his hands through his hair multiple times.

“Hope says hello,” he said, setting his cell on the table. He leaned forward to kiss me.

“How’s she’s doing?” I asked.

“Good.” His mouth twisted to one side. “I think. She said physio is going well, but you know what Hope’s like. She keeps things pretty much to herself.”

I nodded. He was right about his partner. She did keep things to herself, which was why he had no idea she’d been in love with him for years. “You called her to talk about the case,” I said, hanging my purse on the back of the closest chair.

“I did want to see how she was, but yeah, I wanted to run the case by her as well.”

“Do you have any suspects?” I asked.

Marcus hesitated. I waited for him to say he couldn’t talk about the case the way he had so many times in the past. But instead he said, “You’re not going to like it.”

I pulled off my jacket and put it on the back of the chair as well, to buy a little time. I realized he had to be referring to Simon.

“Simon didn’t kill his father,” I said. “If that’s what you’re thinking you need to look somewhere else.”

Marcus just looked at me without speaking.

“C’mon, Marcus, you have to know there’s no way he would do that. First of all, he’s not that kind of person, and second, Mia is the most important person in the world to him. He would never hurt her.”

He raked a hand through his hair, something he did a lot when he was stressed. Then he suddenly shook his head and said, “Do you want a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Please,” I said. I’d warmed up at class but suddenly I was cold again.

When he didn’t say anything else I sat down, curling one leg up underneath me. “Why?” I said. I didn’t need to say another word. Marcus knew what I meant.

He exhaled loudly and opened the refrigerator to get the milk. “Simon and Leo Janes had a volatile relationship and spent periods of time when they didn’t talk,” Marcus said.

“Lots of fathers and sons have difficult relationships,” I said. “And as for not speaking, for a while that was you and your father.”

“Which, believe me, I’ve reminded myself of more than once,” he said. “I’m guessing you know about the affair Leo Janes’s brother, Victor, had with Simon’s mother. There was bad blood between them for more than twenty years.”

I nodded. “By that logic Victor Janes should be a suspect.”

“He had nothing to gain,” Marcus said. “Simon, on the other hand, does. He was Leo’s beneficiary and by Simon’s own admission Leo wanted his son to give Victor a second chance because he’s sick, but Simon found it hard to forgive the man who he felt was responsible for his mother’s death and the breakup of his family.” He looked back over his shoulder at me. “They had recently had a very heated conversation in the hotel bar that was seen and heard by several people.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “You and your father have had some pretty heated discussions. So have we.”

He put two mugs in the microwave and turned around, leaning back against the counter. “This is not the same thing.”

Even if I hadn’t known him so well I would have known he was holding something back. His blue eyes didn’t quite meet mine. So I didn’t say anything. I just waited.

“This stays between us,” he finally said.

I nodded.

It had taken a long time for Marcus and me to work out our differences, and now I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. My parents had been married twice—to each other both times. As crazy as they made each other—and the rest of us sometimes—they were miserable without each other. Just the way I was miserable without Marcus.

“Simon doesn’t have an alibi, at least not one we can verify, for the window of time around his father’s death.”

“Yes, he does,” I said. “He was in his office, working. Mia talked to him before we left the library. I talked to him.”

Marcus took the mugs out of the microwave and added the Jam Lady’s cocoa mix and a couple of her homemade marshmallows to each one. He handed me my cup, set a plate of the promised cookies at my elbow and came to sit across from me at the table. “Simon did talk to you, but he’d had the calls to his office phone forwarded to his cell phone and the cell tower logs show he wasn’t at his office. The call pinged off a tower near Everett’s building—near his father’s apartment, Kathleen. He says he was just driving around, trying to clear his head after a frustrating day, but he can’t prove it.”

“That doesn’t prove he was in his father’s apartment or even close to the building.” I turned the mug of hot chocolate in circles on the tabletop. “You’re the one who explained the problems with cell phone evidence to me when that woman was on trial for killing her husband in Red Wing back in the spring. Simon could have been in his office and if the tower near him was experiencing a heavy call volume his calls could have been picked up by another tower closer to the apartment.”

Micah wandered in from somewhere, probably drawn by the sound of our voices. She jumped into Marcus’s lap, cocked her head at me and meowed softly. I leaned over and scratched behind one ear. She immediately began to purr.

I looked over at Marcus. “I know you don’t know Simon very well,” I said, “but I do know him well enough to know that his life revolves around Mia and he wouldn’t have killed his father even by accident. He would not do that to her. Please, trust me on this.”

“I do trust you,” he said. “That’s the reason I’m telling you.”

• • •

I stayed out at Marcus’s for another hour, only reluctantly pulling myself away because I needed to check on Owen and Hercules. I’d only been home for a few minutes when Simon called.

“Hey, Kathleen, Mia told me that she asked you to sit with us at my father’s service. I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to do that.”

I was upstairs and I dropped down onto the edge of the bed. The closet door moved and Hercules stuck his head around the side of it. When he saw it was me he came over and jumped onto my lap. I started stroking his fur. “I’m happy to be there for Mia, but I’m not family and I don’t mind sitting elsewhere if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t,” he said. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Thank you for caring so much about my kid.”

“She’s easy to care about.”

“Yeah, that she is.” I could hear the love in his voice. “I should have said this before: Thanks for talking to her about things that she doesn’t always feel she can say to me. Sometimes I wish—,” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Sometimes I wish her mother were alive. I can’t always give her what she needs.”

“Mia adores you,” I said. “I know you would do anything for her.”

I paused and after a moment Simon said, “I get the feeling there’s something you want to say to me?”

I shifted sideways a little, moving Hercules, who made a disgruntled face at me. My mother would have said, “In for a penny, in for a pound,” an expression she’d picked up from the English wardrobe mistress while doing a production of My Fair Lady.

“Yes,” I said. “Why did you lie to me—and to Mia—about being in your office the night your father died?”

“I didn’t kill my father.”

“I know that,” I said.

“Then why does it matter where I was?” His blunt manner teetered on the edge of rudeness on occasion, which meant if he liked you, you knew it, and if he didn’t, he didn’t care.

I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. When I opened them again Hercules was sitting up, watching me curiously. “All I ask is that people be straight with me, Simon. If there’s something you don’t want to tell me, ever, that’s okay, but don’t lie to me.”

“You said you know I didn’t kill my father.”

“That’s because I know you would never do anything to hurt Mia. And I know how much her grandfather’s death has hurt her.”

Simon was silent for so long I thought he’d hung up. Finally he spoke. “You know about my father’s brother being in town.”

“Yes.” Hercules nudged my hand with his head. Translation: “Scratch behind my ear.”

“I’m sure Detective Gordon has told you that my father and I disagreed about that.”

“I knew that you and your father had words.”

Simon laughed but the sound had no humor. “That’s one way to put it.” Then his voice softened. “My father left me a voice mail message saying he wanted to talk to me about Victor. I didn’t want to have the same stupid argument because, you’re right, it wasn’t good for Mia. That’s why I left the office, in case my father decided to show up. I just drove around because I needed to figure out what to do. Sitting and thinking doesn’t work for me. I need to move, so I just drove around for a while. I can’t prove it. I did see a deer by the side of the road and a drone flying over a field. I lied to you and to Mia on the phone because I was trying to keep her out of this thing with my father as much as I could.” He sighed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” I could hear traffic noise and I wondered where he was.

“I understand what you were going through,” I said. “I’ll meet you at Gunnerson’s about nine thirty.” Gunnerson’s Funeral Home was where Leo Janes’s funeral was taking place.

“That’s fine,” he said. “And, Kathleen, I appreciate everything you’ve done, for Mia and for me.”

He ended the call before I could reply.

I set my phone down on the bed. Hercules was watching me and as odd as it would probably sound to most people if I’d tried to explain it, I knew he’d been listening to my side of the conversation. He glanced over at the phone and meowed, inquiringly, it seemed to me.

Being able to walk through walls or disappear weren’t the only skills my cats had. They seemed to have an uncanny ability to, well, solve crime. They were like two small, furry Sherlock Holmeses. Sometimes I thought explaining that to Marcus was going to be harder than explaining the whole walk-through-walls/vanishing-act thing.

I started to stroke Herc’s fur again. “No,” I said. “I don’t think he told me everything, either.”

• • •

Simon and Mia were just getting out of Simon’s car when I arrived at the funeral home the next morning. Mia was pale but composed in a dark blue dress, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She came around the car and hugged me.

Simon was wearing a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and conservative striped tie. He was close to six feet tall, long and lean with a direct gaze. Simon generally kept his sandy hair buzzed close to his head but recently he’d let it grow out a little. The first time we’d met I thought that he didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be the father of a seventeen-now-eighteen-year-old, and I still felt the same way.

“Good morning,” he said. I hesitated and then hugged him as well.

A dark green SUV pulled up then. I recognized Denise, Simon’s assistant, as the driver. Victor Janes was in the passenger seat. Denise smiled at me as she got out of the vehicle and came to give Mia a hug.

Simon offered his hand to Victor. They shook hands and then Victor touched Mia’s shoulder for a brief moment.

“Victor, this is our friend Kathleen Paulson,” Simon said.

The older man nodded at me. “We met at the library. Thank you for coming, Kathleen.”

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I said.

There was an awkward silence before Denise touched Simon’s arm. “We should probably go inside,” she said. “People will be arriving soon.”

We headed across the parking lot. Simon was ahead of me, his back ramrod straight in his dark suit, and I had a sense of just what this civility with his uncle was costing him.

Daniel Gunnerson Senior was waiting for us inside. Gunnerson Senior was a short, squat man with thick, white hair combed back from his face and sparkling blue eyes. He reminded me of actor Malcolm McDowell, with whom my mother had once done a production of The Taming of the Shrew. Both men had the same impish grin, although there was no sign of it today on Daniel Gunnerson’s face. This morning his blue eyes were serious. He was wearing a conservative charcoal suit and a gray striped tie. He shook Simon’s hand. “Would you like to see the chapel?” he asked in a low voice.

“I would, thank you,” Simon said. He glanced at me and I gave a slight nod to let him know I’d take care of Mia.

Denise and Simon followed Daniel. Simon took a few steps and then stopped and turned to his uncle. “Victor, would you like to come with us?” he asked.

I saw the older man swallow hard. “Thank you. I would,” he said. He gave Mia a smile that was just really a slight movement of his lips and went with Simon and his assistant.

Mia watched them go. “Did you know that funerals predate modern man? The Neanderthals probably followed some sort of ritual for their dead thousands of years ago.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep last night and I ended up Googling funerals.”

“I did know that,” I said.

Mia smiled. “I forgot that you know pretty much everything.”

I smiled back at her. “Not everything.”

Mia looked in the direction of the chapel again and suddenly she looked profoundly sad. “I want to tell you something but you’re going to think I’m a bad person.”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me think you’re a bad person. You could tell me that you glued the covers of every book in the library together and I still wouldn’t think you’re a bad person.”

“There’s no way you wouldn’t be mad,” Mia said.

I smiled. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be mad, I said I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. “I wish it was him,” she said in a small voice.

I realized she meant she wished Victor were dead instead of her grandfather. “That just makes you human.”

“Mary’s right,” Mia said. “You don’t know how to be mean.”

I grinned and shook my head. “I promise you that I do.”

She raised her head so she could look at me. “What was the last mean thing you did?”

“Yesterday I threw a can of creamed corn at a squirrel that was chewing on one of my Adirondack chairs in the backyard.”

“No.” Her eyes widened.

“Yes.”

I’d also yelled and stomped my feet on the back steps, but the squirrel had simply looked at me like I was a toddler having a tantrum and then gone back to chewing on the arm of the chair.

“Did you hit the squirrel?” Mia asked.

I shook my head. “Not even close.” I leaned my head against hers. “It’s okay to feel mean and petty, just try not to act that way.”

I looked out the window by the front door. Two cars pulled into the parking lot, one behind the other. “Are you okay? Are you ready?” I asked.

Mia nodded. “I can do this,” she said. The look in her eyes reminded me of Simon and I had no doubt she could handle the day. I just wished that she didn’t have to.

I was surprised at how many people showed up for the funeral, although I shouldn’t have been. Mayville Heights was a small town and people knew one another going back generations. More than once I’d found out that someone I knew was third cousin twice removed of someone else I knew. It could be a little claustrophobic at times but from the perspective of someone who had moved around a lot as a child I found it warm and welcoming.

Mary and her husband arrived with Mary looking uncharacteristically sedate in a dark blue dress. Rebecca and Everett came in behind them. While Everett was talking to Simon, Rebecca walked over to me. “How is she doing?” she asked, tipping her head toward Mia, who was talking to Mary.

“Better than I would have done at the same age,” I said.

“She has the same vein of inner resilience that both her grandfather and father have,” Rebecca said. “Leo was a good man. You would have liked him if you’d been able to get to know him.”

I thought about the one time I’d met Leo Janes at the library and the love and pride I’d seen on his face when he looked at his granddaughter. I had liked him.

Rebecca was wearing a tie-dyed, pale blue silk scarf at the neck of her navy blue suit jacket. It reminded me of the scarf I’d found on the sidewalk the night of Leo’s death. “I forgot to tell you,” I said. “I found your scarf.”

“What scarf would that be, dear?” she asked.

“It’s just like this one,” I said, reaching out to finger the ends of the silky fabric around her neck. “Only in shades of yellow instead of blue. I found it on the sidewalk the night . . . the night Leo . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Rebecca touched my arm. “I didn’t lose a scarf,” she said. “I don’t own any yellow scarves at all. Someone walking by must have dropped it.”

Across the room Everett caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. She gave my arm a squeeze. “I’ll talk to you after the service,” she said.

I nodded.

Harrison Taylor came in with Harry Junior and Larry—Harrison’s younger son—all three men dressed in dark suits and ties. Harrison shook hands with both Simon and Victor. He took Mia’s hands between his own large ones and said something to her that made her smile.

I watched Harry Junior speaking with Simon and I couldn’t help wondering again why he and Leo had argued in the gazebo.

Marcus walked in then dressed in his dark blue suit with the blue tie my mother had sent him from Los Angeles the last time she’d been there. Simon caught sight of him at the same time and, as I watched, he excused himself from Harry and turned to Marcus. Marcus offered his hand and Simon took it, leaning in as he spoke. I saw Marcus nod at whatever the other man was saying.

The conversation was brief. Marcus made his way over to me. I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“How’s Mia?” he asked, looking over at the teen standing tall and poised next to her father and uncle.

“All right,” I said. “I wish she didn’t have to go through this.”

“I wish no child did,” he said.

“Are you here to watch Simon or to look for other suspects?” I asked.

“I’m here because it’s my job,” he said. “Simon wants to talk to me this afternoon. Do you know why?”

Before I could answer Daniel Gunnerson came out to collect the family for a private moment before the service. Simon turned to look for me.

“I have to go,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Marcus’s hand brushed mine. “Go,” he said. “I’ll bring you dinner later.”

• • •

The service was simple but very moving. Mia held on to her father’s hand with one hand and mine with the other.

Mary spoke from the heart about her friendship with Leo when they were young. More than once people laughed at the memories. She told the story about Leo kidnapping the mascot of the high school in Red Wing and how the first Christmas she and her husband were married, Leo came and helped put up the Christmas tree after Mary had kicked her husband and burst into tears when he said she had a crooked eye because it turned out the tree had a decided list to the left after she’d fastened it in its stand. She finished by laying her hand on the urn at the front of the room, saying, “Rest well, my friend.”

Simon reached for Mary’s hand as she passed on the way back to her seat and she blew Mia a kiss.

Simon spoke briefly about his father, about how Leo had encouraged him to go after his dreams. He smiled a tight smile. “He made me the man I am today, for better or worse.”

To my surprise Victor Janes went to the podium. Mia tightened her grip on my hand so much that my fingers began to go numb. I suspected Victor speaking hadn’t been planned. I felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He was the one with a serious illness, trying to atone for his past mistakes, and now his brother was dead. He’d run out of time but not in the way he’d likely expected.

Victor cleared his throat and looked out over the rows of people, all friends of Leo or of Simon and Mia. “Leo was the older by seven minutes and he always felt that gave him the right to act like a big brother,” he said.

From the corner of my eye I saw Simon’s shoulders tense.

Victor stared down at the podium. “He was a great brother and I wish I’d said that more often.” He looked at the copper urn for a long moment and then took his seat again.

Mia spoke last. She talked about what a great grandfather Leo was, how he’d played tea party with her and dressed up at Halloween but how he’d also read poetry to her and corrected her when she said “like” too much. Her voice was strong and her hands on the edge of the podium were steady, although unshed tears shone in her eyes.

“The world was better with my grandfather in it and it’s a little less with him gone,” she said.

Then she turned and looked at the polished urn. “Walt Whitman was one of Grandpa’s favorite poets.” She took a breath but she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They slid down her face but her voice was strong. “‘O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.’” She blew a kiss to the urn and I felt a tear slip down my own face.

There was a reception in the big front room of the funeral home after the service. I carried a cup of coffee around but didn’t actually drink from it. There was no way I could swallow anything past the lump that seemed to be permanently stuck in my throat.

Harrison Taylor came up behind me. “That coffee has to be colder than a witch’s—”

I flashed a warning look at him.

“Kiss,” the old man finished, a devilish gleam in his eye. “No appetite?” he asked, tipping his head toward my cup.

I set it down on the table to my right. “Not really.”

“I’m the same way,” the old man said. “I get that this is part of how people grieve and, hell, I think it’s good for the family to hear stories and memories about their loved one, but I’ll be damned if I can understand how anyone can go from sitting in Daniel Gunnerson’s back room to stuffing their face with potato salad.” He patted my arm. “The boys would say I’m raving. How are you?”

I smiled at him. “I’m fine, Harrison. How are you?”

“I’m fine, girl,” he said. “Damned sorry to hear about Leo Janes.”

I nodded. “I only met the man once but I liked him.”

“He was that kind of person,” Harrison said. “And he’d be proud of that granddaughter of his today.”

“Mia’s mother died when she was a baby, didn’t she?” I asked. Neither Mia nor Simon ever spoke about Mia’s mom.

“In childbirth.”

I glanced over at Simon, talking to Brady Chapman. “I had no idea.”

The old man nodded. “She and Simon were just teenagers. There were some kind of complications with the delivery.” He leaned on his cane and looked across the room at Simon. “Her parents tried to take the baby. Simon dug his heels in. He wanted to raise her himself. Lord knows what Leo must have thought, and he’s the only one who ever did because he backed that boy one hundred percent. The whole thing ended up in court.” He gestured with one deeply veined hand. “You know the rest.”

“I had no idea,” I said.

“Most folks don’t.” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “That man of yours know who did this?”

“He’s working on it,” I said.

“No offense intended, but it probably wouldn’t hurt if he had some help.”

I stood on tiptoe, put one hand on the shoulder of his black suit and kissed his cheek. “You’re not subtle,” I said.

He gave a snort. “I’m too old to be subtle,” he said.

I looked at my watch. It was getting late and I needed to get to the library. I promised Harrison I would be out soon for supper and headed over to say good-bye to Mia.

“Call me or text me anytime,” I said. “I mean it.”

“I will,” she said. She hugged me tightly.

Simon put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just going to walk Kathleen out. I’ll be right back,” he said.

“I’m okay,” Mia said. Simon caught Denise’s eye and she nodded. I knew she’d keep a close eye on Mia. Like me, she’d been doing that all morning.

I didn’t realize how warm it was inside the funeral home until we stepped outside.

“I didn’t know he knew so many people,” Simon said as we crossed the pavement toward my truck.

I thought he looked tired, the lines around his eyes pulling tighter than they had when we’d first arrived for the service.

“It’s not just your father all these people care about,” I said. “They care about you and Mia as well.”

We reached the truck and Simon pulled at his tie, loosening it a little. “My father loved this place,” he said. “After my mother died we moved to Green Bay and then Milwaukee. Dad went back to school and got his PhD in math. He taught for twenty years at Marquette University.” He swiped a hand over the top of his head. “He loved math the way some people love the New York Yankees or Star Wars movies.”

I smiled.

“And he loved to play blackjack and poker. Would you believe Dad was banned from a couple of casinos?” He kicked a rock, sending it skittering over the pavement.

I thought about the smiling man I’d met who doted on his granddaughter. It was hard to imagine Leo as a card shark. “What did he do?” I asked.

Simon gave me a wry smile. “Your guess is as good as mine. He always claimed he didn’t cheat. He said the odds were stacked overwhelmingly in favor of the house and he was just evening things up a little.”

“I wish I’d gotten to know him better,” I said.

“You would have liked him.”

I nodded. “I already did.”

“Thank you for everything you did for Mia today,” Simon said.

“She’s special,” I said, turning to look back at the funeral home for a moment.

“She’s not the only one.” He leaned over and his lips brushed my forehead, then he turned and headed back across the lot.

• • •

Abigail was working the front desk when I got to the library. “How was the funeral?” she said.

“Sad,” I said.

“And Mia?”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “She got up and spoke and she was so grown-up, but underneath all that she’s still a little girl who misses her grandfather.”

Later that afternoon I was pushing an empty book cart back to the front desk when Harry Junior came in. He lifted a hand and I joined him.

“I just took a look at the loading bay door and it definitely needs a new seal. That’s where the rain’s getting in.”

“That’s better than a whole new door,” I said. “How do we get a new seal?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” he said. “Thorsten thinks there’s one at the town depot. I can go over and check if you want me to.” He pulled off his Twins cap and smoothed a hand over his mostly bald scalp. “Do you need me to write you up a requisition for Lita?”

“I will,” I said, “but I have enough in the repairs budget, so if they’ve got it, get it and go ahead and install it. There’s rain in the long range for the first of next week.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“I talked to your father at the service. He’s looking hale and hearty.”

Harry smiled. “As much as I hate to admit it, this new romance of his seems to be agreeing with him.” He pointed a finger at me. “And if you tell him I said that, those blackberries you like so much from my backyard might mysteriously disappear.”

I held up both hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

He smiled.

“It was good of you and Larry to come to the funeral as well,” I said.

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “Leo Janes and the old man were friends a long time ago. It was the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “I better get over and get that seal. I’ll let you know when the door’s fixed.”

I watched him go, and Harrison’s nudge that I should get involved in the investigation into Leo Janes’s death came into my mind. I flashed to Simon in the funeral home parking lot and to Harry Taylor just now. I had no idea who had killed Leo Janes, but I did know that at least two people were probably hiding things.