Curiosity Thrilled the Cat

22

Step Forward and Punch

“Ingrid?” I asked.

Maggie waved Roma back behind us. “That’s not Ingrid, is it?” she asked.

“Yes, it is,” Roma said. “Her hair’s blonder, but it’s Ingrid.”

Maggie leaned forward again to look. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “It is Ingrid.”

“Ingrid?” I asked again. “Is that the same Ingrid who was head librarian before me?” Will had his arms around the woman—Ingrid—and their faces were close together.

“Let’s get out of here,” Maggie said. She turned and gave me a little push.

We followed Roma back to the main road and got in the SUV. Roma started the car, eased off the shoulder and started back toward town. “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” she said.

“Me, either,” Maggie agreed.

“I’m lost,” I said. “Explain, please.”

“Yes, that’s Ingrid who was the librarian before you got here,” Roma said. “And, no, she wasn’t fired, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

It had been what I was thinking. “Doesn’t Will have a wife?” I asked.

Roma nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“So what is he doing with the former librarian?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows and gave me a look.

“Okay, I know what he’s doing, but what does it have to do with the library or me?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Maggie admitted. “But it’s way too big a coincidence that Will is involved with the woman who used to have your job, and you’ve been having problems at the library.”

“But if Ingrid wasn’t fired why would Will have a problem with me? I could maybe see it if he thought I was the reason Ingrid lost her job.” I was trying to be the voice of reason. I looked at Roma. “Roma, are you sure she wasn’t fired?”

She nodded without taking her eyes from the road. “I’m positive. Ingrid gave her resignation to the board right before the renovation plans were finalized. They tried to convince her to stay at least until the major work was done.”

“She obviously said no.”

“She said she had personal reasons for leaving.”

“I heard that, too,” Maggie said.

“That’s why Everett was so pleased to find you,” Roma said.

“Do you think her personal reasons had something to do with Will?” I asked.

“I don’t see how they could,” Maggie said. “It’s not like the two of them ran off to Tahiti together.”

“Maybe she’s sorry she resigned,” Roma said. “Maybe Will figured if Kathleen got hurt, Everett would ask Ingrid to come back.”

“Mags, this is crazy.” I rubbed the top of my shoulder, which seemed to ache more if I stayed in one position too long. “I don’t know that Will had anything to do with what happened to me. Those accidents could all just have been accidents.”

“They could be,” she agreed. “But everything that’s happened has happened because of something stupid Will or his guys did.” She tugged at her seat belt, pulling it a little tighter across her shoulder. “C’mon, Kath, think about it. The radiator they forgot to properly disconnect. The roll of plastic that fell. I’m not a contractor, but I know you don’t need vapor barrier to fasten a plaster medallion to the ceiling.”

“Kathleen, how did Will react when he found out about your accidents?” Roma asked.

I shrugged. “He apologized, but it seemed a bit insincere to me. He always manages to find a way to point out that I don’t understand what’s involved in a major renovation and I don’t know the building.”

“Has he said anything about insurance or liability?”

“No.”

Roma turned the car onto Old Main Street. “I agree with Maggie,” she said. “Why isn’t Will worried about his liability in all of this? Maybe it’s just he’s so caught up in this affair he seems to be having. Whatever it is, someone’s going to get hurt, a lot worse than you’ve already been. If they haven’t already.”

“What do you mean, ‘if they haven’t already’?” Maggie asked.

“Something happened to Gregor Easton at the library,” Roma said.

“Uh-huh.”

“How do we know that something wasn’t another accident meant for Kathleen?”

“You think Will did something to Easton? Will?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Roma said. “Maybe he and Ingrid were together in the library for some reason, and Easton walked in on them. Who knows? I’m just saying be careful, that’s all.”

“I will,” I said. “I have a meeting tonight with Everett. He knows some of what’s been going on.”

“I think you should tell him the rest,” Roma said.

“I plan to.”

She slowed and pulled into the library lot. “Kathleen, Maggie.” She put the SUV in park and looked at each of us in turn. “This has been fascinating to say the least, but . . . get out of my car.”

I leaned my head against the headrest and laughed. “Roma, I’m sorry,” I said. “We kind of pulled you into the middle of this and you’ve been a very good sport.”

“Yes, you did, and, yes, I have,” she said. “Now get out of my car.” She smiled to soften the words. “I have patients to see. The four-legged kind that bite when I keep them waiting.”

Maggie and I both got out of the SUV. “Thank you, Roma,” Maggie said.

Roma pointed across the lot at the old brown truck. “You have to pump the gas twice to get it started.”

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked, shading her eyes as she looked at the rusty half ton.

“That’s Ruby’s truck, isn’t it?” Roma said.

“Uh-huh.” Mags nodded.

“I’m sure,” Roma said. “It used to be mine. Neutral’s kind of mushy, too.” She put the SUV in gear and drove off.

Maggie walked me over to the steps. “I told you Will was up to something,” she said.

“Just because he’s having an affair—assuming he is having an affair—doesn’t mean he’s been trying to get rid of me. Or that he did something to Gregor Easton,” I said.

“What?” she snorted. “You think that kiss was a substitute for a hearty handshake?”

“Okay,” I said. “Probably not.”

“All I’m saying is, be vigilant.” I could see the concern on her face.

“I will. I promise.”

“I’ve gotta go,” she said. “Call me later.”

“I will,” I said. “Are you going to try the truck again?”

She nodded. “Cross your fingers.”

I stood on the step and watched her get into the truck. It started on the first turn of the key. She drove out of the lot with both hands on the top of the steering wheel and a look of intense concentration on her face.

I went up the rest of the stairs and into the library. Lita called just before four to let me know Everett expected to be at my house about eight thirty. I left Mary in charge and headed home at about five o’clock.

Hercules was in the backyard on the lawn chair. Now that I knew what he could do, it wasn’t as disconcerting to find him somewhere unexpected. He jumped down and walked beside me to the back door.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Merow,” he said, and he may have shrugged; I wasn’t sure.

“Maggie, Roma and I were playing Charlie’s Angels,” I said as I unlocked the door. Hercules paused on the second step. “It’s a long story,” I said.

Owen was sprawled on the bench in the porch. He jumped up when he saw us and a whisper of yellow feather drifted to the floor.

“I’m not saying a word,” I said, heading for the kitchen.

The cats kept me company while I changed and made spaghetti for dinner. I told them all about Will and the former librarian. “Maggie thinks Will’s up to something,” I said. Owen gave my leg a swat with his paw. “You always agree with Maggie,” I told him. “You’re not exactly unbiased.”

That got me a cranky kitty glare. I set my dishes in the sink. I still had lots of time before my meeting with Everett. I decided to make cinnamon rolls. I wanted to thank Roma for going along with Maggie’s “Let’s stalk Will Redfern” idea.

While I rolled out the dough I couldn’t help wondering what Everett was going to do and how Will would react. Whether or not he was up to something, he was going to be angry.

When the cinnamon rolls were in the oven I went down to the basement for a new vacuum bag so I could clean up before Everett arrived. That was when I noticed Rebecca’s sweater still soaking in my sink. “Crap on toast!” I said. I’d forgotten about it.

Luckily it was cotton, not wool. I rinsed it in clean water and rolled it in a towel. Then I lugged my folding rack upstairs and spread the cardigan out to dry.

I could smell the rolls. I’d forgotten to set the timer. I jerked open the oven door. They hadn’t burned, but they were extra crispy. And I’d spaced them too close together. The rolls slid off the baking sheet onto the rack like a big cinnamon paving stone.

Herc and Owen had disappeared. I pulled out the vacuum, taking out my frustration by aggressively chasing every speck of dirt on the kitchen floor, even muscling out the stove and fridge.

The cats peeked in once from the living room, watched me for a moment and exchanged knowing glances. After I finished striking terror into the hearts of dust bunnies everywhere, I went out to the porch to check Rebecca’s sweater, hoping it hadn’t gotten small enough to be a winter coat for Owen.

Will Redfern was standing just inside the porch door.

I jumped, sucking in a breath. “Good heavens, Will,” I said, pressing a hand against my breastbone. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you knock.”

“You were vacuuming,” he said. “And I didn’t knock, anyway.”

My heart started thumping in both ears like a drummer keeping time in stereo. I wrapped an arm across my chest. “What can I do for you, Will?” I asked. I tried not to think about what Maggie suspected. I tried not to think about how much taller, heavier and stronger Will was. I didn’t do a very good job of it.

“Go back to Boston,” he said.

“Look,” I said. “I know we haven’t always gotten along during the renovations—”

He cut me off. “You don’t belong here. Ingrid should be the librarian.” He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “I know you know who Ingrid is. I know you and your exercise buddies followed me today.”

So much for being the new Charlie’s Angels. “I thought Ingrid resigned,” I said. Just keep him talking, I told myself. Keep him talking until Everett shows up.

Will clenched his teeth. “That was a mistake. You need to just go back where you came from, because you don’t belong here, anyway. Then Everett will have to ask Ingrid to step in and everything will be just fine.” His voice was getting louder.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize Ingrid wanted her job back.”

“She will when she sees how much everyone needs her.” He kept flexing and squeezing his left hand.

“I don’t think Ingrid would want you to do this,” I said, deliberately keeping my voice low and steady. I couldn’t get around him, I realized. Could I beat him to the kitchen? I didn’t think so. The best I could do was keep him talking.

“You don’t know Ingrid, so there’s no way you can know what she’d want.”

I held up a placating hand. “You’re right. But I saw the two of you together and she seemed crazy about you.” You, on the other hand, I thought, just seem crazy.

The muscles along his jaw tightened. “Stop trying to screw with me, Kathleen. You’re stalling. You think if you keep on talking someone will show up.”

Will was more on the ball than I’d thought. “Not happening.” He jerked his head toward Rebecca’s. “The old gal isn’t home, and your artist friend is out having dinner.”

“I’m not stalling, Will,” I said. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He leaned toward me, so suddenly I automatically took a step backward. “I want you to go away,” he spat. “You, Everett, that conductor guy—you all keep interfering in what I’m doing.”

“Conductor? You mean Gregor Easton?” I stammered.

“He almost ruined everything,” Will said. “I had to do a little work on that wall outlet in the computer room and I couldn’t exactly do that when the library was open. Now, could I?”

My legs were shaking. All those accidents. They hadn’t been accidents. Maggie and Roma were right.

“You see what happens when you end up somewhere you aren’t supposed to be, Kathleen?” He clapped his hands together right in front of my face and I almost came out of my skin. “You end up dead. That’s what happened to that pretentious old fart.”

I pressed a hand to my mouth. Will killed Easton? Will? Because he’d showed up at the library at the wrong time? It didn’t make any sense.

Will held up his hand and waved his fingers the way a child might. “Bye-bye, Kathleen. Time to go now.”

I took a shaky breath and felt behind me for the doorframe. Nothing. I wasn’t close enough. “I can’t just go. Everett will ask questions. You know how he is.”

Will swiped a hand over his face and looked around as though the answers were somehow on the walls of the porch.

I took a step back and this time my hand made contact with the side of the doorframe. Maybe I could distract him. Maybe I could bolt, run through the house and out the front door.

“You’re gonna write a letter,” Will said suddenly. He took several steps toward me. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was pasty and he needed a shave. He looked like hell. I would have felt sorry for him if he weren’t scaring the crap out of me. He was too close now for me to cut and run and make it. “Let’s go,” he said. “Letter. Find something to write with.”

“I have a pen and some paper inside.” Will grabbed my arm and half dragged, half marched me into the kitchen. I pulled a small pad I used for making grocery lists and a pen out of one of the drawers. He shoved me down into a chair.

“Write,” he ordered.

My mouth was too dry to swallow. “What do you want me to write?” I asked.

Will rubbed his face again. He was breathing heavily. “Put down that you’re going back to Boston. You don’t . . . You don’t like Minnesota.” His strong fingers dug into my injured shoulder.

I ground my teeth together against the stab of pain.

“Make it sound real,” Will said.

I wrote slowly and neatly, hoping to buy a bit more time.

Will’s fingers continued to bite into my skin. He leaned over my shoulder. “Speed it up!” he hissed.

He’d been drinking. I could smell it. I finished the letter and placed my hands flat on the table.

Will read the words and seemed satisfied with what was on the page. I pressed the ends of my fingers against the painted wooden tabletop to keep my hands from shaking.

“That’ll do,” he said. He grabbed my upper arm. “Now you’re gonna pack.”

“All right,” I said. “But first I have to call Roma and ask her to take my cats.”

He yanked me around to face him. The pain sliced down my back and my stomach lurched. He jabbed a finger in my face. “No phone!” he snapped.

I made myself take a couple of steadying breaths. “No one will believe I just left the cats here.”

“They’re not going to be here,” he said. “I heard you say they came from out at the old house. I’ll just dump them back out there.”

“You can’t do that,” I said. “Owen and Hercules can’t take care of themselves in the wild.”

“They’re cats. They can hunt.” He shrugged. “And if they can’t, well, life is hard.”

I felt a knot of anger burning in my stomach. It wasn’t unlike the feeling of taking a drink of Ruby’s homemade wine. Will wasn’t going to hurt my cats. He wasn’t going to get near them.

“So’s this, Will,” I shouted, kicking him as hard as I could in the knee. Pain shot through my foot and up my shinbone. I lunged for his face, but he was faster. He grabbed my wrist, twisting the skin.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he yelled. His skin was mottled now. His eyes were two angry slits. He hauled my arm up behind my back.

My bruised shoulder screamed and my knees started to buckle. I tried to stay upright so I could kick him again, but he kept pressure on my arm and the world began to go dark from the edges in. For a second I thought I was hallucinating the flash of gray fur.

But I wasn’t. Owen appeared in midair, teeth bared, ears flattened against his head. He landed, yowling, on Will’s head and dug in his claws.

Will screamed, let go of my arm and swiped at his head. I fell against the counter.

Owen launched himself onto the table, arched his back and yowled again, all his fur standing on end.

Blood dripped down the edge of Will’s forehead. His lips pulled away from his teeth like a rabid dog’s. He pulled back his arm to punch me. I shrank even farther against the cupboards, my good arm, my good hand grabbing for something to hang on to. I touched the ruined rolls, welded together like a cinnamon-scented chunk of rock. Without even thinking about it I grabbed them and swung for Will’s head with all the strength terror gave me.

I connected with the left side of his face. His mouth fell open. The color drained from his face as his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.

For a moment the only sound was my ragged breathing. “It’s okay,” I wheezed to Owen. He looked over the edge of the table at Will sprawled on the floor. “We have to get out of here,” I said.

I grabbed the cat, sidestepped around Will and backed rapidly out of the kitchen, into the porch, and against the very strong, very normal chest of Harry Taylor.

“Harry, thank heaven,” I gasped. He caught me by the arm. I winced and he dropped his hand.

“Kathleen, are you all right?” he asked.

“No. Yes.” I took a breath. “Will Redfern is on my kitchen floor,” I said, thinking that if I didn’t sit down soon I was going to be on the floor, too.

“Why’s Will on your kitchen floor?” Harry asked, leading me over to the bench.

“I hit him,” I said. I sat down and set Owen beside me. My legs were shaking. Hercules was sitting on the floor by the door.

I thought about what Will had been planning to do with the cats. And what he might have done to Gregor Easton. It made me want to hit him again, this time with something harder than a batch of failed cinnamon rolls. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure there were a lot of things harder than those rolls.

“Stay here, Kathleen,” Harry said. “I’m just going to take a look at Will.”

I nodded. As soon as Harry got up Hercules jumped up on the bench. He put his front paws on my lap and studied my face. “I’m all right,” I said. He laid his chin on my leg. Owen climbed all the way onto my lap on the other side and placed his paws on my chest. I stroked his fur. “I can’t believe you did that,” I said. “You saved me from Will.” He bumped my shoulder with his head. “Tomorrow I’m going to buy you the biggest, yellowest Fred the Funky Chicken that the Grainery has.” Owen started to purr.

Harry came out of the kitchen, his face serious. “Police are on their way,” he said.

I looked past him, heart suddenly pounding again. “Is Will . . .?”

“I tied him to the table leg with my belt,” Harry said. He wiped a hand across his forehead. “Will’s been drinking.”

“I know,” I said.

“What did you hit him with?”

“Owen jumped on . . . on Will’s head, and I hit him with a batch of rolls.”

“Remind me to say no next time you ask if I’d like coffee and a muffin,” Harry said. He held out his hand. A drywall knife with a retractable blade lay on his palm. “Will had this in his pocket. What was he doing here?”

I wrapped my aching arm around my body. “He wanted me to leave. He was . . . involved with Ingrid.”

“Ingrid? The old librarian?”

I nodded. “He got the idea if I was gone, she could come back to the library and they’d have some kind of happy ending.”

Harry shook his head. “Damned idiot,” he muttered.

“Harry, how . . . what . . . What are you doing here?” I asked.

“That cat of yours. Hercules?” He tipped his head toward Herc, who lifted his head at the sound of his name. “I was working over at Rebecca’s. Suddenly there he was, just a few feet in front of the mower. Wouldn’t move, either. He was howling like a banshee. I thought something was wrong with the cat, not you.”

I bent over and kissed the top of Herc’s head. “You went for help,” I said. He gave me his it’s not a big deal look. I didn’t want to think about what could have happened if Owen wasn’t able to disappear and Hercules couldn’t walk through walls.

“Not bad for a couple of cats,” Harry said.

“You have no idea,” I said.