A Tale Оf Two Kitties

chapter 7

Marcus called Sunday morning to tell me the trip to Minneapolis had been a success. Eddie had learned a lot about setting up a hockey school from his former teammate and they’d split a huge platter of wings. I was curled up in the overstuffed chair next to my bed with a book and a certain gray tabby cat sprawled half on my lap, half on my chest.

I thanked him for the bread and the marshmallows. I’d toasted some of the bread at breakfast and there were four marshmallows in the cup of hot chocolate at my left elbow.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Do you want to check out the flea market down at the community center this afternoon? I’m looking for a bench to set by the back door. And no, I didn’t forget that I’m cooking dinner for you.”

Somehow Owen heard the word “dinner,” probably because he had exceptional hearing—when it suited him. He lifted his head and meowed loudly.

“Is that Owen?” Marcus asked.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “He seems to think you should make him supper, too.”

Marcus laughed. “He can have cat food, cat food or cat food. Roma threatened to ban me from ever getting another slice of her apple pie if I don’t watch how much people food he and Hercules are getting. So no more pizza for Owen—at least until pie season is over.”

Owen and Hercules clearly weren’t “ordinary cats” and I suspected they didn’t have ordinary digestive systems, either, but that didn’t mean they should eat like a pair of frat boys on spring break.

“I agree with her, at least on the pizza,” I said. “How would you like to be woken up by a cat with morning pizza breath licking your chin?”

“I’d much rather be woken up by you licking my chin,” he said, and it seemed that I could feel his breath warm against my ear even though that was impossible.

• • •

He picked me up at twelve thirty and we headed downtown to the flea market, which was being held in the community center parking lot. There were a lot more people there than I’d expected. We’d been walking around less than five minutes when I caught sight of Maggie and Brady. I waved but she didn’t see us, so we made our way over to them through the crowd.

“Isn’t this fantastic?” Maggie asked. She was carrying a string bag over one shoulder and I could see a stack of postcards and a child’s Spirograph inside.

“Everything and the kitchen sink,” Brady said, gesturing at a huge stainless-steel sink at a nearby stall. “There’s a guy here from upstate with a PAC-MAN arcade machine.”

“Tabletop or upright?” Marcus asked.

“Upright. I’m thinking about maybe buying it.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I may have to hit the bank for some rolls of quarters.”

“I haven’t played PAC-MAN in years,” I said.

“I didn’t know you liked arcade games,” Maggie said.

“One year my parents were doing summer stock and there was an arcade next to the theater.” I smiled. “I got pretty good at a couple of games. I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

Marcus looked at me. “You may have beaten me the first time we played road hockey but there is no way you’re better at PAC-MAN than I am.”

I’d beaten him at our most recent game of road hockey, too, but I didn’t point that out. I shrugged. “Well, if Brady buys the game maybe we’ll find out.”

“Want to go take a look?” Brady asked. Both he and Maggie seemed to be getting a kick out of the conversation.

“Absolutely,” Marcus said, his blue eyes never leaving my face. He had a competitive streak I’d learned about when I’d played road hockey against him at my first Winterfest. And won. When it came to road hockey games with Marcus, I was undefeated.

“I’ll come find you in a little while,” I said, smiling sweetly at him.

Marcus and Brady headed toward the back corner of the lot. “It’s going to be Winterfest all over again, isn’t it?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You’re really good at that game, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Maggie slipped the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder. “I take it your mother never told you to let the boys win so they’d like you.”

That made me laugh. “Mags, you’ve met my mother,” I said. “Do you really think she’d ever give advice like that?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

We started walking. “She told me to do my best, play fair and never throw a game for a guy. She said, ‘The only person you might annoy is your first ex-husband.’”

Maggie laughed. “That sounds like your mom.”

She led me to a stall along the street side of the parking lot. “Take a look at these,” she said, indicating several large cardboard cartons sitting on the ground in front of the booth.

I took a few steps closer. “Picture frames?” I asked.

She nodded. “I can get one of those boxes for twenty dollars—maybe less. I was thinking I could get everyone at the co-op to take two or three and paint them or whatever and we could use them to frame those photos. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” I said. I pulled out my wallet and handed her two twenties. Maggie crouched down and began looking through the boxes, deciding which ones she wanted to buy.

I looked around. I knew it would take a while for Maggie to make up her mind. I couldn’t see Marcus and Brady anywhere but as I turned in a slow circle I did see someone I recognized: the woman I had seen walking in the rain the night Leo Janes was killed, the same woman I’d seen coming out of the building the time I’d gone to pick up Rebecca for tai chi. The scarf I’d found the night of Leo’s murder hadn’t belonged to Rebecca. Maybe it belonged to this woman.

“Mags, I’ll be right back,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, fluttering one hand over her shoulder at me. I knew she’d be busy for a while.

I made my way over to the woman, who was looking at a collection of vintage cookie jars. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” I said. “Did you by any chance lose a yellow tie-dyed silk scarf on Hawthorne Street? The night we had all the rain?”

She turned. “I did,” she said. “Don’t tell me you found it?”

“I did,” I said. “It was lying on the ground and I picked it up.” I realized then that I hadn’t introduced myself. “I’m Kathleen Paulson.”

“Celia Hunter.” She was maybe five feet tall without the chunky-heeled, low, brown boots she was wearing. She was a little older than I had guessed when I’d seen her walking. There were fine lines around her eyes and her hair, cut in a sleek, asymmetrical bob was completely gray.

“I’m the head librarian at the library here in town,” I said. “I could leave your scarf at the front desk for you.”

She smiled. “Thank you. It’s not expensive but it was a gift, so it has a lot of sentimental value for me.” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “You were at Leo Janes’s funeral,” she said.

I nodded. “Yes, I was.”

“Leo’s wife, Meredith, was my best friend.”

Meredith Janes. Her name seemed to keep coming up.

“So you grew up in Mayville Heights?” I took a step to the right to get out of the way of a woman pushing a chubby-cheeked baby in an umbrella stroller.

Celia’s smile returned. “Yes. I haven’t been back in years. So much has changed and yet so much is the same. I heard that the library has been restored.”

“For the building’s centennial, yes,” I said. “You can see it when you come to get your scarf.”

“I’ll try to get there tomorrow,” she said. “I’m staying at the St. James so I’m close by. I plan on being here another week.” She hesitated, brushing a bit of lint off the sleeve of her caramel-colored jacket. “I actually came to see Leo. Did you hear about the mail that was found behind the wall at the post office?”

I nodded.

“One of those pieces of mail was addressed to me. It was sent by Meredith the day she died. I came here to show it to Leo.”

I looked around, hoping I could spot Marcus. This had to mean something.

Something flashed across her face for a moment, like a cloud passing over the sun. “Kathleen, excuse me if I’m being, well, too presumptuous, but you’re friends with Leo’s son, Simon, aren’t you? I mean, I saw you sitting with him and his daughter at the service.”

I was picking at the cuff of my sweater, I realized. I put my hand in my pocket. “Yes, I am.”

“Then maybe you can give me some guidance.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Once I got here I had second thoughts about showing Leo the letter Meredith had sent me all those years ago. I, uh, I was afraid it might be painful for Leo so the first time I visited him I didn’t mention it. I just said I was here and wanted to say hello.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just nodded. “The second time I went to see him I had the letter with me but Leo obviously had something on his mind. He was distracted. He looked at his watch a couple of times and then he apologized. He said he was waiting for a phone call. I told him we could get together another time. I was at the door when his cell phone rang. He asked the person on the other end to hold on and then he said he’d call me in a day or two and we could have lunch. I left. That was the day he died.”

She sighed. “This is my long-winded way of saying that I never did show Leo the letter. I’d be happy to let Simon read what his mother wrote but I don’t want to cause him any more grief than he already has to deal with.”

“What are you asking?” I said.

“I know this is a lot to ask when you don’t know me, but would you be willing to read the letter and tell me if I should show it to Simon?”

I smoothed a hand back over my hair. “I don’t think I’m qualified to make that decision for Simon,” I said.

“I understand,” she said.

“I think you should get in touch with him. You could tell him what it says in general terms, then he could decide if he wanted to read it himself.”

She nodded. “That’s a good idea.” She glanced at her watch. “I should be able to make it to the library tomorrow or Tuesday.”

I glanced around again and still couldn’t see Marcus. “Celia, do you mind if I ask if you’ve spoken to the police?”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked puzzled. “No. Why would I talk to the police?”

“Because you’re one of the last people Leo saw the night he died.”

For a moment she didn’t say anything and she seemed focused on something beyond me. Then her attention came back to me. “I assumed Leo had a heart attack, but that’s not what happened, is it? Somebody . . . Leo didn’t die of natural causes, did he?”

The fact that Leo Janes had been murdered wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t common knowledge yet, either. Surprising, because that sort of news usually made it around town pretty quickly.

“The police are still looking into that,” I said. “You might know something that can help them and not realize it.”

Celia nodded. “Of course. I’ll go to the police station first thing in the morning.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m glad you came to speak to me,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

She turned and headed toward the street. I walked back to Maggie, who had two boxes of frames at her feet and was just getting some money from the stall owner. She turned to me, smiled and handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Two boxes for thirty dollars,” she said, “and I think I could have gotten him down a little more. No one is lining up to buy these.”

She bent down and picked up one of the boxes and I got the other. “Guy who owns the stall doesn’t have to drag these two boxes home and I saved a little money—everyone is a little happy and a little had.”

I smiled at the expression. I’d heard Burtis use it before. Brady’s father had several small businesses, most of which were legal. No matter what Maggie said about her relationship with Brady Chapman, I knew they were becoming important parts of each other’s lives.

“Did you find anything interesting?” she asked.

“In a way, yes,” I said, thinking about my conversation with Celia Hunter.

She glanced over at me. “You didn’t buy anything?”

“It wasn’t that kind of interesting.”

Maggie shrugged. She was probably the only person I knew who would accept that kind of an answer.

“If we can find Brady I can get his keys and put these in his truck,” she said.

“Do you know where that arcade game was?” I asked. The box of frames was heavier than it looked.

Maggie stopped, took a couple of steps to the side to get out of people’s way and looked around. Her green eyes narrowed and her mouth moved as she muttered to herself. “Over there,” she said, “just to the left of the place with the copper birdbaths.”

We headed across the parking lot and suddenly I caught sight of Brady. He was shaking hands with someone I didn’t recognize. “Mags, I see Brady,” I said. “I think he bought the PAC-MAN game.”

“I knew he would,” she said. “You should have seen his face when he first saw it.” She smiled. “He has the money, and how often can you buy happiness?”

I pretended to think about the question. “That depends on how often Eric has chocolate pudding cake on the menu.”

She laughed. “Okay, so some of us can buy it more easily than others.”

Brady had bought the arcade PAC-MAN machine. He and Marcus had grabbed Larry Taylor, who happened to be walking by, and the three of them got the game loaded onto Brady’s truck, strapped in with some bungee cords of Larry’s.

“We’ll take these boxes,” Marcus said, taking the carton from Maggie’s arms. “Where do you want them? Home or at Riverarts?”

“Thank you,” Mags said. “Studio, please.”

We followed Brady’s truck over to the former school and put the two boxes of frames up in her studio.

“Do you need some help to get that thing off the truck?” Marcus asked Brady when we were back on the street again.

Brady shook his head. “There will be lots of bodies at the house—that’s where I’m taking it.”

Maggie told me she’d call me in the morning to set up a time to start measuring some of the photos.

“Thanks for taking this project on,” I said, giving her a hug.

“I’m excited about it,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

Marcus headed up the hill. I replayed the conversation with Celia Hunter in my head. I was so focused on my thoughts I didn’t realize he’d spoken to me.

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“Do you have Leo Janes’s cell phone?”

“Yes,” Marcus said, his eyes darting sideways at me briefly.

I remembered what Celia had said about Leo getting a call on his cell just as she was leaving the apartment. “Did he get a phone call a short time before he died?”

“I can’t tell you that, Kathleen,” he said, his expression and voice shifting into what I called “cop mode.”

“Did the person Leo spoke to tell you that someone was leaving his apartment at the time of the call?”

Marcus put on his blinker and pulled over to the curb. He put the SUV in park and turned to me. “You know something. What is it?”

“When Mia and I got to the building that night I saw a silk scarf on the walkway. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I thought it was Rebecca’s. It wasn’t, she just has one that’s very similar.”

He nodded.

“Later, I realized the first time I’d gone over to Rebecca’s I’d passed a woman coming out of the building and she was wearing the scarf.” I held up a hand. “I know this doesn’t make much sense.”

He folded his arms over his chest and shifted a little in his seat. “Keep going,” he said.

“I saw her, while Maggie was looking at those picture frames. I went and spoke to her. Her name is Celia Hunter. She was a friend of Leo’s wife. She was with Leo not long before he died.”

He pulled one hand over his mouth. “Why didn’t she get in touch with us when she heard he was dead?”

I reached over and brushed a bit of dried leaf from his sleeve.

“She said she didn’t think it was important. Remember, not everyone knows Leo was murdered. And by the way, how did you get Bridget to sit on that?”

“It wasn’t me,” Marcus said. “I think the prosecuting attorney made some kind of deal with her.”

“I told Celia she needed to talk to you and she said she’d come to the station in the morning.”

“She’s from out of town,” he said.

I nodded.

I could see his mind working. “Describe her to me.”

“She’s around sixty, gray hair about this long.” I tapped my jawline with my index fingers. “She’s maybe five feet tall but no more.”

He didn’t write anything down but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t remember.

I blew out a breath, lifting my bangs in the air. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the scarf. It didn’t occur to me that it might have belonged to anyone other than Rebecca.”

He smiled. “It’s all right. You said this woman admitted it was hers?”

“Uh-huh.”

Marcus started the SUV again. “It’s not evidence. It could have been on the ground for days. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” I said as he pulled away from the curb.

“It wasn’t her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I snugged up my seat belt. “How do you know?”

He glanced at me again. “This stays between us.”

“Absolutely.”

“I have the medical examiner’s report, and the person who hit Leo with that heavy piece of sculpture was strong and tall. I don’t think Leo obligingly bent down for his killer.”

“And there was nothing there he could have been sitting on,” I finished, remembering what the room had looked like when I’d found Leo’s body.

Marcus put on his blinker and turned onto Mountain Road. I realized that the medical examiner’s report may have eliminated Celia, but it didn’t do anything for Simon.