A Tale Оf Two Kitties

chapter 14

Susan came hurrying down the sidewalk as I got out of my truck the next morning. As she got closer I saw that she had a pair of plastic scissors and an emerald-green pencil crayon stuck in her topknot, which just gave a bit more credence to my theory that her twins did her hair in the morning.

“Kathleen, do you remember seeing my car keys yesterday?” she asked.

I shook my head as I unlocked the doors and turned off the alarm system. “No,” I said. Then I noticed she had a key ring in her hand. “What are those?” I asked.

“House keys,” she said.

“You don’t have them both on the same ring?”

She nudged her black cat’s-eye glasses up her nose. “Thank goodness, no. Now I wouldn’t have my house keys, either.”

“Right,” I said, thinking that I’d worked with Susan long enough that what she’d said actually made sense to me.

She moved inside and began flipping on the lights. Behind me I heard a soft knock on the outside door. I turned to let Mia in.

“Hi,” she said. She was carrying a round metal cookie tin.

“What did you bring?” I asked.

“Coffee cake,” she said with a smile. “I could go put the coffee on and you could try it before we open.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” I said.

Susan was standing in the middle of the floor looking around the room as though she expected her missing car keys to suddenly fall at her feet.

“Susan lost her car keys,” I said.

“What does the key ring look like?” Mia asked.

“It’s a Troll doll with lime-green hair.” She stopped and looked at us. “I think I know where they are. Kathleen, do you have the key for the cash drawer?”

“Right here,” I said, pulling my own keys out of my pocket. I handed them over to her.

“Mike Justason was paying the boys’ overdue- and damaged-book fines when Eric dropped off my car,” she explained. She leaned over the counter, unlocked the cash drawer and after a moment triumphantly held up her keys.

“Yay!” I said.

Mia held up the tin with the coffee cake. “We should celebrate,” she said.

We all headed up to the staff room, where I started the coffee machine and Mia cut us each a slice of her coffee cake.

“This is really good,” Susan told her. “Seriously. If you ever want to work at the café, let me know.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Hey, no stealing my favorite employee who also happens to bring coffee cake to work on Saturday morning.”

“I brought you banana bread two weeks ago,” Susan said.

“Which is why you were my favorite employee two weeks ago,” I said with a grin.

Mia smiled. “I’m glad you both like it,” she said. “It was my grandfather’s favorite and I knew he’d hate it if I stopped making it. So I thought I’d make it for you guys.”

“We’re glad you did,” I said.

Susan keys were lying on the table.

“I like the Troll doll key ring,” I said.

“Eric thought maybe it would help me stop losing my keys so often,” Susan said. “He thought the hair might make them easier to notice.”

“How’s that working?” I asked.

“Not bad,” she said with a completely straight face. Then she laughed.

I glanced over at Mia. She looked a little sad. “Are you all right?” I said. “The coffee cake really is good. I’m sure your grandfather would be happy you made it for us.”

“I’m all right,” Mia said. “I was remembering that Grandpa misplaced his car keys the day before he died. I’d made this cake and then we’d gone shopping and we were going to the cottage where Uncle Victor was staying for lunch. So he had to use my keys.” She ducked her head. “Don’t tell my dad.”

Susan looked confused. “What?” she mouthed.

“Your grandfather let you drive his car,” I said.

Mia looked up and nodded. “Dad would have a cow. You know how he is. He’s always afraid someone is going to run me off the road. Grandpa gave me a set of keys to his car and said I could drive it as long as I was careful.”

Susan patted her arm. “I used to drive my grandmother’s car. It was this great big boat of a Buick. I sometimes wonder if my dad knew but just pretended that he didn’t. Anyway, your secret is safe with us.”

Mia reached over and combed the little Troll doll’s green hair with two fingers. “Grandpa wanted me to go for a walk with Uncle Victor and get to know him a little but I tried to get out of it. I should have said yes because it was important to him.”

“My great-uncle smells like licorice and has hair growing out of his ears,” Susan said flatly. “It’s the only hair on his head unless you count the hair that’s growing out of his nose. And all he wants to talk about is things he and his friends have had cut out of their bodies.”

Mia made a face. “Gross!”

“More than you can imagine,” Susan said. Her topknot bobbed as she nodded her head for emphasis and for a moment I was afraid the green pencil crayon was going to go flying across the room. “A lot of people don’t want to hang out with their great-uncles, kiddo. It’s okay.” She looked at her watch and stood up. “I’ll go open.” She scooped her keys off the table, stopped at her locker and put them inside on the shelf before heading for the stairs.

Mia got to her feet as well. She took her cup and plate to the sink and then went over to her own locker and put her backpack inside. She hung up her jacket and, when she did, her own keys fell to the floor.

I picked them up. There was a red crayon attached to the ring.

Mia saw me looking at it and said, “It’s not a real crayon. It’s actually a memory stick. I have another one that looks like a little Hershey bar.”

“That would make a great Christmas gift for my sister,” I said. “Where did you get it?”

“Grandpa got both of them for me from the bookstore, I think,” Mia said.

“Next time I’m down there I’ll go take a look,” I said. I got to my feet. It was time to get to work.

It turned out to be a busy morning. At least half of a grade-eleven English class came in looking for books on the reading list assigned by their teacher. Several of the quilters showed up to talk more about a possible quilt show in the new year.

I’d just helped a new mom find a copy of Love You Forever when I noticed Sandra Godfrey in the magazine section, one hand on her hip, studying the shelves. “Hi, Sandra, what can I help you find?” I asked.

“Oh, hi, Kathleen,” she said. “What happened to Scientific American? It was right there.” She gestured to a magazine shelf at waist level.

“One more shelf to the right,” I said. “We added a new magazine in the Ps and it bumped everything sideways.”

Sandra tipped her head in the direction of the quilters, who were just heading out the door. “So are you going to hold the winter show here?”

“I hope so,” I said. “I think we have enough space.” I eyed her. “Do you quilt?”

She nodded and held up the copy of Scientific American she’d just lifted from the shelf. “You might say I’m a Renaissance woman,” she said with a grin.

I smiled back at her. “I’m impressed.”

“Have you made any progress on figuring out what to do with the photos from the post office?” Sandra asked.

“Yes. I should have called you,” I said. I explained about Maggie’s idea for framing everything and putting the photos and some of the mail that was found on display.

“I would like to see that since I was the one who delivered most of that mail.” Her lips twitched. “You probably heard about the card Thorsten got.”

I nodded. “I think the entire town has heard by now.”

Sandra brushed a bit of lint, or maybe it was cat hair, off her red sweater. Did she have cats? I wondered.

“Ella King got a note from her grandmother and it had one of those chocolate coins wrapped in foil inside. The chocolate was still intact.” Sandra rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to think about how many preservatives were in that thing.”

“Maggie’s still rounding up more of the mail for the exhibit,” I said. “But that has to be the weirdest piece so far. I hope Ella still has the chocolate.”

“Well, I don’t think she ate it, if that’s what you mean,” Sandra said. She glanced down at the cover of the magazine in her hand.

I remembered what Mary had told me. “I heard that Leo Janes got something,” I said. “Do you have any idea what?”

“That was odd,” Sandra said, shaking her head.

The blood was rushing in my ears. “What makes you say that?” I asked.

“He got an envelope with a key inside.”

“A key. You mean like a door key?”

Sandra shook her head. “I don’t think it was a door key but I really didn’t get a good look at it. All I know is it was a silver-colored key.”

“Why on earth would someone have sent Leo Janes a key in the mail?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He didn’t seem to know, either. And the funny thing is, it was the last piece of mail to be delivered.”

I frowned at her. “Why?”

“There was an old change-of-address card from twenty years ago and somehow the letter ended up being sent there. Then it was rerouted a couple of times before it ended up back here. I heard Mr. Janes was in town, so when the letter came back I delivered it to him.” She cleared her throat. “The day before he died.”

“You’re sure?” I said. I could hear my pulse thudding in my ears again.

“Positive,” Sandra said. “It was my mother-in-law’s birthday. My husband and I drove into Minneapolis after work to celebrate with the family.”

Leo had received the mysterious key the day before he was killed. Was that important? Somehow I had the feeling it was.

• • •

Maggie called midmorning to see if we could have lunch so she could show me the proposed layout for the photo exhibit. We agreed to meet at Eric’s at one thirty. She was already inside when I got to the café, seated at our favorite table, going through the little ritual she followed when she made her tea.

As soon as I sat down Nic appeared at my elbow seemingly as if by magic and poured me a cup of coffee without even asking if I wanted one because we both knew I did. “Do you need a menu?” he asked.

Maggie shook her head.

Nic grinned. He put two fingers to his temple like a sideshow psychic. “Let me see,” he said. “I think you would both like a big bowl of . . . chili and . . . a plate of cornbread.”

I smiled at his mind-reading routine. “Please,” I said.

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Are we getting too predictable?” Maggie asked.

“No,” I said, slipping out of my jacket. “We’re consistent.”

“We’ve had chili the last three times we’ve been here for lunch.”

“It’s not our fault the chili is so good. If we didn’t order it we might hurt Eric’s feelings and that would be wrong,” I said solemnly.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt Eric’s feelings,” she said. Then she laughed.

“So show me what you came up with,” I said.

Maggie pulled a brown envelope out of the messenger bag slung over the back of her chair. Inside were three sketches she’d made of three different layouts for the exhibit. We quickly settled on the second one and she spent the rest of the meal telling me what different people were doing with their frames.

“I have another idea, although I don’t know if it’s workable,” she said as she pushed back her empty bowl.

“What is it?” I asked, scooping the last bit of cornbread from the bottom of my dish.

“The post office gave the library those photos, right?” Maggie asked.

I nodded. “We’re becoming the repository for things people think the town needs to keep but that they don’t want to be responsible for. That’s how we got all the old yearbooks and the herbarium.”

“So you don’t have any obligation to keep all the photos?”

I leaned back in my chair. “No.”

She smiled. “Great. Then why can’t we auction off some of them to buy new books for the library? There are several gorgeous shots of the bluff.”

“I’d have to run it by Everett and the board,” I said slowly.

“We could put the framed photos up on the co-op’s website—I’m sure Ruby would agree. That would get you a wider audience.”

“I like it,” I said, grinning across the table at her.

We talked about the auction idea for a few more minutes and then Maggie looked at her watch. “I need to head for the store.”

“Lunch is on me,” I said.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Yes,” I said. “This was library business.” I got to my feet and reached for my jacket.

“I’ll get you photos of some of the frames that are already done, and I’ll talk to Ruby.”

I hugged her and she headed for the door while I went over to pay the bill. When I stepped outside I remembered what Mia had told me about her memory stick possibly coming from the bookstore. I had time. I decided I’d stop in and see if I could find one of the Hershey bar ones for Sara.

I was about to step inside the bookstore when the door opened and Victor Janes came out. He smiled when he caught sight of me. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. “How are you?”

“Hello, Victor,” I said. “I’m well, how are you?”

“Under the circumstances I’m . . . I’m all right.”

He looked so much like his brother and yet I never would have confused the two. Where all the lines on Leo’s face had seemed to go up so that it looked as though he was smiling even when he hadn’t been, Victor, I’d noticed, had a bit of a dissatisfied expression on his face, like a toddler who had just been told no. As soon as I had the thought I felt guilty. Victor seemed to bring out that emotion in me, guilt because I didn’t like him, guilt because, for a moment I’d actually entertained the thought that he’d killed his brother. The man had a serious illness and had just lost his only sibling. Why wouldn’t he feel unhappy with the world?

I was about to move past him into the store when he put a hand on my arm. “Kathleen, would you have a moment?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said.

We moved away from the doorway.

“Simon told me you were the one who found my brother,” Victor said.

An image of Leo Janes’s body slumped on the floor flashed across my mind. I swallowed and nodded.

“I don’t want to cause you any more distress than you’ve already been through, but I’m wondering if you can . . . tell me what you saw.”

I hesitated. What was there to tell him? I’d seen Leo dead, blood on the back of his head.

Victor pressed his lips together for a moment. I noticed his complexion seemed pale. “Kathleen, I know it sounds gruesome, but Leo was my twin and we always had a connection, even during all the years we didn’t speak. I had this feeling that something was wrong that night.” He shook his head. “I keep thinking that if I hadn’t ignored it . . . maybe Leo would still be alive. Please. Whatever you tell me can’t be worse than what I’ve been imagining.”

“There isn’t really much to tell you,” I said slowly, trying to choose my words with care. “Your brother was on the floor and I don’t think he suffered. I think his death was . . . quick.”

Victor exhaled slowly. “I was hoping that somehow he’d left me a message. I know that doesn’t make sense.”

I shook my head. The conversation was making me very uncomfortable and it was hard not to back away. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see any kind of note or message.”

“Well, you’ve put my mind at ease, at least,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm again. “I wouldn’t want Leo to have suffered. Thank you.”

I nodded.

He headed down the sidewalk and I turned in the direction of the library. I didn’t feel like going into the bookstore anymore. I felt bad for Victor Janes. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Sara or Ethan. But it was hard to like him, unlike Leo, who had made me smile from the first moment I met him. I wondered if my opinion of Victor was colored by what I knew about his relationship with Simon’s mother and how much pain that had caused Simon. I didn’t like thinking I was that judgmental, but maybe I was.

• • •

When I got home after work Hercules was waiting for me on the back steps. “Hey, handsome,” I said, leaning over to stroke his fur. The top of his head was warm from the afternoon sun. “What are you doing out here?”

He looked up at the sky. “Ah, yes, grackle patrol,” I said. “Isn’t that over for the season?”

Hercules looked at me as though he were surprised I was asking. I held up one hand. “Sorry,” I said. “I just thought the grackle would have flown south by now. Though, now that I think about it, I’m not sure they do fly south.”

I unlocked the door and Hercules followed me inside. “Where’s your brother?” I asked. I glanced over at the basement door. “Down in his lair in the cellar?”

Hercules looked up at the ceiling.

Owen was upstairs somewhere, probably poking around in my closet. “I better not find a chicken head in my new boots,” I said.

“Mrr,” Hercules replied, which likely meant “Don’t count on it.”

By the time I’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt the chicken soup I’d left simmering in the slow cooker was done. I put it in the refrigerator after having a taste—and sharing it with the boys. I was going to have supper with Marcus but that wasn’t for another hour and a half. I was restless, unsettled by what I’d learned from Sandra Godfrey and still a little uncomfortable about that encounter with Victor.

“I’m going to vacuum,” I announced to Owen. He was headed for the basement but changed course and made his way toward the back door instead. I let him into the porch and then opened the door to the backyard.

Hercules was already sitting on the footstool in the living room, eyes fixed on my iPod dock. I got the vacuum cleaner out then slipped my iPod in the dock and started our favorite playlist.

Hercules bopped his head from side to side and I vacuumed as we sang along to the music of Mr. Barry Manilow, which always managed to put both of us in a good mood. Owen, not so much. We did rousing versions of “Copacabana” and “Daybreak” complete with a little choreography, and by the time we were halfway through “I Made It Through the Rain” I felt better.

Once the entire house had been vacuumed I shut off the iPod and made some hot chocolate. I sat at the table with Hercules on my lap and told him what I’d learned from Sandra. I’d set my messenger bag and my keys on the table when I’d come in and now Hercules reached up and batted the keys onto the floor. He looked at me.

“You’re a little heavy-handed with the symbolism,” I said. “But you’re right. We need to find that key.”