Gone With The Whisker

Chapter 22

Aunt Frances added another piece of bacon to my plate. “But where did all those medications come from in the first place?”

Rafe, Kate, and I had walked up the hill for an aunt-cooked breakfast, and I was almost hoarse from telling the story of what had happened the day before. It was now clear that I had to eat before answering any more questions, because if I didn’t, everything would get cold and that was no way to treat my aunt’s cooking.

I ate a bite of bacon and took another gulp of coffee. Aunt Frances’s question was a good one. The array of prescription medications in the shed had rivaled a pharmacy’s, and it had taken Ash, Hal Inwood, and the sheriff herself a fair amount of time in the interview room with Those Two to get the full explanation. They’d been interviewed separately and Courtney had remained silent until Luke had started talking. And talking. And talking.

I’d been long asleep by that time, but an hour earlier, Ash stopped by the houseboat to give me an update. He’d looked exhausted but satisfied, and what he’d told Kate and me had made the final pieces of the puzzle click into place.

“Courtney is a home health aide,” I said, adding jam to a piece of buttered toast. “She’s been stealing pills, a little bit at a time, from her clients. Just one or two at a time. Small amounts so you’d think you dropped one, or accidentally took a double dose.”

She encouraged that, too, Ash had said. If a client mentioned missing medication, Courtney would look all concerned and mention that the client had forgotten something just the other day, and had the doctor checked for signs of senility?

Ash’s face had hardened. “Ms. Drew laughed,” he’d said. “Said old people are so easy to take advantage of. All you have to do is scare them a little and they’re putty in your hands.”

“There’s more,” Kate said, glancing at me. I was busy getting the right ratio of maple syrup to pecan pancakes, so I nodded and she continued. “Courtney is apparently well known within her company for lending a hand with end-of-life care. A lot of people don’t want to do that, but she was always volunteering.”

Otto sighed. “And pocketing all those medications instead of disposing of them properly.”

“When did Luke Cagan come into it?” Aunt Frances asked.

I swallowed a spoonful of raspberries. “They’ve known each other since they were kids, so it’s hard to say. The shed was on property owned by Luke’s uncle on his mom’s side, and the uncle is only there during deer hunting season.”

Aunt Frances nudged the bacon in Kate’s direction. “So the uncle wouldn’t know a thing.”

“Yep. The shed was originally a sugar shack, but no one in the family has made maple syrup for years.” I eyed the stack of sourdough toast and reached for another piece. “According to Courtney, Luke kept pushing her to steal more and more medications because he wanted to go on guided hunting trips all over the world.” I considered jam options. “Of course, Luke said Courtney was the one who was pushing him to get better prices because she wanted to buy a house on Lake Mitchell.”

The sadness of the entire saga had weighed heavily on me when Ash had described it. However, coffee, good food, and even better company were combining to push back the darkness, and my spirits were on the upswing.

“I’m still struggling with the why of it,” Otto said. “Not the drugs, that I understand. It’s the murders.”

“That’s what was so confusing,” I said. “Nicole, from her back pain, had ended up with an addiction to opioids, and she’d found an Up North supply courtesy of Courtney and Luke. They often sold their pills out on Brown’s Road, right where the bookmobile stopped that day, not far from Rex’s house.”

Otto nodded slowly. “And Rex saw an exchange?”

“With Nicole, on the Fourth of July.” Not that Luke was confessing to the murder, but now that his handgun was in evidence, there’d be a ballistics test. “That last day on the bookmobile, Nicole had stayed late on our stop because she’d wanted to connect with Courtney to get more pills. They set up a purchase on the Fourth of July. Rex had wanted to explore more of that road on his bike, and he went back on the Fourth. He saw Nicole with Courtney, and he stopped to talk.”

“So sad,” Otto said.

“But why didn’t Rex tell anyone?” Aunt Frances asked. “If I’d seen a drug deal, the first thing I’d do is call the police. Did he even tell his wife?”

“No,” I said. “But Rex confronted them, right on the spot. And Courtney and Luke and Nicole spun some story that apparently Rex said he’d believed. And maybe he was going to tell the police the next day.”

“What about Nicole?” Otto asked. “Why on earth did they kill her?”

“Different reason altogether.” I ate a bite of marmalade-laden toast. “She had to be downstate for some family things after the Fourth of July and didn’t hear about Rex’s murder right away. When she did, she figured straight off that Courtney and Luke had killed him.”

I put down my toast and spoke quietly. “Nicole was using Rex’s murder as a way to get free pills.”

Aunt Frances reached over and squeezed my hand. “Addiction is a horrible thing, my dear. We can only hope that someday there will be a better way to cure it.”

I nodded agreement and tried to focus on breakfast.

It had been thanks to my own big mouth that day at Rupert and Ann Marie’s house, that Courtney had known I was curious about Rex Stuhler’s murder. Which explained why she and Luke wanted me out of the picture, and probably explained the air conditioner episode, but the timing didn’t work for my fall into the street, so maybe that had been an accident after all. And it had turned out that neither one of them had known of Violet or Julia’s existence, a fact for which I was extremely grateful.

Ash had also followed up on the other information I’d passed along. What he’d seen that day on his phone was that Violet had a criminal history. It was a college shoplifting prank, done on a dare during sorority pledge week, but she attributed all the things that had gone wrong with her life to that single episode.

“She plays the victim card like a champ,” Ash had said, shaking his head. “Not at all like Mason Hiller.”

Turns out that Mason had intentionally shorted customers on their change on July 3 because he’d just got the news that he needed to purchase new gas tanks to stay in compliance with some new state regulations. He’d come to his senses the next day, had already paid the people back, and was trying to find a second job to afford the hideously expensive tanks.

“So it’s all over?” Aunt Frances asked.

“Mostly,” I said. “Hal Inwood and Ash are trying to track down the people who were buying from Luke and Courtney.” I had no idea what crime they might be charged with, but Ash had seemed determined to follow the trail wherever it might lead.

Rafe held up the coffee carafe. I smiled at him gratefully, and stood to pick up my newly filled mug. “Aunt Frances,” I asked, “would you mind coming out on the porch with me a minute? I want you to see something.”

My aunt gave cleaning-up directions to the men, grabbed her own coffee mug, and followed me outside, trailed by Kate, who’d opted for two generations of aunts instead of kitchen chores.

“Can I sit?” Aunt Frances asked, a smile quirking up one side of her mouth.

“Sure. This might take a few minutes.”

The three of us settled down, Aunt Frances and Kate on the cushioned love seat facing the street, me on a rocking chair. It was late morning with a glorious blue sky above; birds were singing, the sun was shining, people were out and about. I breathed deep of the fresh air and thought grateful thoughts.

Last night Kate and I had come far too close to death, and it would likely change both of us in ways we now couldn’t imagine. Upon my insistence, she’d called her parents before she’d gone to sleep and she’d tearfully told them the entire story. My brother had sighed and said something along the lines of, “I suppose all’s well that ends well.” Jennifer had cried, but not for very long, and she’d laughed when Kate had said she’d have the best ever “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” essay when school started.

“Nice morning,” Aunt Frances said. “But what are we doing out here?”

I used my tiptoes and started my chair rocking. “Waiting.”

“For what?”

Partly for an opportunity to fit Florida’s state motto of “In God We Trust” into the conversation. “Just waiting.” I nodded in the direction of her coffee. “All will be revealed before that gets cold.” At least I hoped so.

She shrugged and raised her mug. “Hope this isn’t an odd aftereffect of yesterday’s trauma. That you can’t stay indoors for more than an—” She stopped talking and squinted across the street. At the boardinghouse. “Well, that’s interesting,” she murmured.

The three of us watched a thirty-ish couple laden with backpacks hurry down the front steps, climb into a car topped with two stand-up paddle boards, and drive away.

“Wasn’t that Amy and Zach?” Kate asked.

“It certainly was.” I watched their taillights disappear. “A couple of weeks ago they were kiteboarding, but they’ve moved on. I hear they’re talking about renting a catamaran next weekend.”

Another couple came down the stairs. In their mid-fifties, they went at a more sedate pace, but they, too, had their hands full. Though they had picnic baskets, not backpacks, the contents were undoubtedly similar.

“Bert and Yvette,” I said, and waved. “Have a good day!” I called.

They waved back as they placed their baskets into the bed of Bert’s pickup truck. Yvette smiled. “We’re taking that road you recommended, the one out past the state forest land. Think we can get lost this time?” she asked Bert, turning her face up for a kiss.

“Get a room, you two!” Canary called as she walked out the front door. She was followed by Walter, who closed the door behind them.

“Well, if it isn’t Minnie.” She beamed. “Walter and I are headed to that wonderful toy store. Your friend Mitchell ordered us a new jigsaw and we just got a call that it’s in.”

“Better get going,” Walter said, “or someone might buy it out from under us.”

Canary laughed, but let herself be pulled along, and the elderly couple headed off briskly in the direction of downtown.

“Hmm.” Aunt Frances sipped her coffee, which was still steaming.

“Exactly,” I said. “Despite the appearance of no matchmaking, there is a significant amount of pairing going on.”

“How . . .” My aunt shook her head. And laughed. “You know what? I don’t care how. But you know what? It makes me happy.”

And if my aunt was happy, I was, too.

The three of us sat there for a few minutes, breathing in the morning air, feeling the easy peace of summer.

“So what are you two doing today?” Aunt Frances asked. “After yesterday, I’d say nothing is in order. And if you want to include me in that, I’m ready and waiting.”

Kate smiled. “I can do nothing until noon, but I’m scheduled to work at Older Than Dirt.”

“You sure you want to go in?” I asked. “I can call Pam and explain.”

“Aunt Minnie, I’m fine. What would I do all day anyway? And please don’t tell me pick raspberries.” But she said it with a smile.

Soon, she went off, as did Rafe, who said he had things to pick up before working on the house, and though Graydon had texted that I could take the day off, I decided to stop by the library to check e-mail. Three days of unanswered e-mails and I’d spend half of Monday reading and answering. As it was, I’d spend a good share of Monday morning telling the Shed Story, and there were things I needed to get done.

I slipped in the side door and, looking left and right, scurried into my office, closing the door without anyone seeing me.

Knock, knock.

Then again, it was entirely possible I wasn’t as stealthy as I’d thought. I’d have to ask Eddie for lessons.

My door opened and Graydon poked his head in. “Morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Yes, still morning, barely. Glad I caught you, I didn’t think you’d be in today.” He gestured at my office’s empty chair and, mentally waving good-bye to the productive hour I’d planned, I nodded for him to sit.

“This won’t take long,” he said, getting comfortable. “Did you know the board had a special meeting this morning?”

“Did not.” I felt my brow furrowing. They’d heard about yesterday’s escapade. Once again, I’d made a name for myself and not in a good way. Moral turpitude was included in my employment contract’s termination-for-cause section and they were going to fire me. What was I going to do? I hadn’t finished paying off my student loans, I needed to help Rafe pay for the house, and I didn’t want to sell my houseboat. Plus, I had the best job in the world and couldn’t imagine doing anything else, ever.

Graydon crossed an ankle over his knee. “It was an emergency meeting. Trent called it yesterday morning.”

I put my hand to my forehead and tried to smooth out my skin. Okay, not going to fire me. At least not for what had happened out on Brown’s Road. The library board’s bylaws allowed for emergency meetings, but they were only allowed under special circumstances. “What was it for?”

My boss inspected the sole of his deck shoe. “The attorney advising the board on Stan Larabee’s bequest is in town this weekend, and she wanted to give the board her final recommendation.” Graydon smiled. “Which they voted to adopt, all in favor.”

“You look pleased,” I said cautiously.

“Every penny will go into the Stan Larabee Endowment. There’s enough capital to generate healthy annual dividends and the board, with oversight from Mr. Larabee’s attorney, will make decisions on how to use that money, with Mr. Larabee’s wishes regarding the bookmobile a guiding principle on disbursements.”

I tried to do the mental math on how long it would take to get enough dividends to buy a new bookmobile. Failed completely.

“It’s the wisest possible use of the bequest,” Graydon said.

“Sounds like something a lawyer would say.”

“Direct quote,” he agreed. “There’s just a couple of things. Mr. Larabee must have been quite a character, because his will included two, ah, interesting requests. He wanted to have the next bookmobile painted in his favorite color, purple.”

“And that sounds like Stan,” I said softly.

Graydon eyed me. “Minnie, I thought you’d be happy.”

“Oh, I am. It’s just . . .” I smiled, albeit sadly. “It’s just this was the last thing Stan left behind. Now it’s over and Stan really feels gone.”

“Au contraire.” Graydon stood. “Mr. Larabee’s endowment will last essentially forever. The way I see it, this is only the beginning.”

He was right, and by the time he’d left my office, I was ready to say so. “You’re right,” I called after him, and received an “I know. See you tomorrow” in reply.

“Well, there you go,” I said to the empty air. “It’ll be a little like Stan is watching over us.” And somehow, I got the feeling of a nod from Mr. Larabee himself.

* * *

An hour later, I tiptoed back outside. Donna spotted me, but she averted her eyes when I held up my index finger in the universal “Shh!” gesture.

“See you tomorrow,” she said as I went by. “Hope you’re bringing provisions, because I anticipate a long story at break time.”

Small towns being what they are, how she knew about the shed less than twenty-four hours later was a mystery only in the specifics. “I’ll stop at Cookie Tom’s,” I promised, and escaped into the sunshine.

Half a block later, my phone beeped with an incoming text.

Rafe: had lunch?

Minnie: I was planning on stopping at Shomin’s. Do you want me to get you something?

Rafe: don’t buy food all here

Minnie (while smiling at her phone): Could you please spell that out in proper English, with punctuation to ensure proper communication?

Rafe: can but not gonna-see U soon

Laughing, I shut down my phone and started walking faster as I wondered what Rafe was planning. Fat Boys subs were always a winner, but maybe he’d gone all out and fired up the grill. We hadn’t had hamburgers in at least a week so he was probably on the edge of withdrawal.

My brain was so full that I didn’t pay much attention to where my feet were taking me until I was all the way downtown and mired in late summer pedestrian traffic, heavy this weekend because of sidewalk sales.

Instead of being annoyed, however, I found myself smiling at the gamboling children, the sunburned parents, and everyone who was crowding the sidewalks with bulging shopping bags. All would be gone in a month and Chilson would, once again, be a place where you could find a parking spot anywhere you wanted.

“How has your summer been going?”

I stopped and looked around, but the question hadn’t been asked of me; it had been asked of someone behind a rack of vintage linens outside Older Than Dirt. The questioner sounded familiar, though, and I hesitated as I tried to place the name.

“Great,” said a young and very familiar voice. “I’m so glad my parents let me come up here to stay with Aunt Minnie. I’ve been begging them for years, but this is the first year they thought I was old enough.”

“So you’re enjoying the houseboat?”

I almost snapped my fingers. Bianca Sims, now Bianca Koyne. Mitchell’s wife, which was a two-word phrase I still couldn’t wrap my head around.

“You bet. And Eddie is like the best cat ever.” Kate’s hands appeared over the top of the rack as she tidied the goods. “Aunt Minnie talks to me like a real person, you know? Not like I’m a little kid, but like I’m an adult. She asks my opinion on stuff and really wants to know the answers.”

Bianca murmured something I couldn’t hear.

“Let me know where to send the nomination,” Kate said, laughing. “She’s the Best Aunt in the World if you ask me. You know what happened yesterday? She literally saved my life!”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I cut across the street, staying out of their view. No way did I want them to know I’d been eavesdropping, but I wasn’t sorry I accidentally had. Now I knew that Kate didn’t hate me and maybe, just maybe, there was hope of an Aunt Frances–type relationship in our future.

“All is not lost,” I said out loud, smiling up at the sun.

* * *

By the time I got to the house, my stomach was telling me that breakfast, while large, had been a long time ago and it was past time to eat something. I hurried up the steps and opened the front door. No food smells or cooking sounds emanated from the dining room or kitchen. I wandered through the rooms and found nothing, and no one. Then a faint noise from up above my head gave a clue as to Rafe’s whereabouts.

“Hey!” I called. “Where’s all that food you promised?”

“Up here!”

I traipsed up the stairs, thinking about the phone call I’d just finished with Kristen, who had been in line to get the Shed Story. With her atrocious restaurant hours, I hadn’t wanted to bother her much before noon. But as it turned out, she’d already heard a large percentage of what I’d told her.

“How did you know all that?” I’d asked.

“You seriously think I’m going to give away my sources?” she’d scoffed.

“It’s not like you’re a reporter, trying for first amendment protection.”

“There are parallels,” she’d said. “But let’s get to the good stuff. Tell me again how you and Kate wriggled your way across the floor. No, wait. Tomorrow during dessert you can demonstrate.”

She’d howled with laughter, then said softly, “I’m really glad you and Kate didn’t get shot.”

Remembering, I was sorry for the catch I’d heard in her voice, sorry for the pain she would have suffered if last night had included a nasty death or two. Which was a weird thing to be sorry about, but there you go.

I reached the second floor hallway and looked around. No food. No Rafe. “Where are you?”

“Keep going!”

Where? I wondered. But his voice was still coming from above my head, so that was a clue. I turned and saw that the small, narrow door at the end of the hall was open. “Are you in the attic?”

“Come on up.”

Huh. I’d been in the attic all of twice—once to note its existence, a second time to reassure myself there was room for the boxes of books that were in the boardinghouse attic, from whence they would eventually be shifted, but not yet, as Rafe and I were still working on bookcase design. I’d considered not moving until said bookcases were installed, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait that long.

I climbed the narrow stairway and peered at the cobwebby gloom. Still no Rafe. But . . . hang on . . .

A window at the end of the gable facing the water was wide open. I walked over, stepping around the broken chairs, tables, and toys, and poked my head outside. “You’re on the roof,” I said.

Rafe reached for my hand and helped me clamber through the window frame and onto the balcony. It was an odd part of the house, because it could only be reached via defenestration, and I hadn’t been sure we would ever use it. But since I’d known Rafe for more than twenty years, I should have known better.

“And why not? It’s a beautiful evening.” He ushered me to one of two low chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

“Um . . .” But he’d already ducked back inside. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. More than nice, really. The view was spectacular. From here I could see every boat in Uncle Chip’s Marina, half of Janay Lake, and over the line of trees and to Lake Michigan. Seagulls wheeled about, ducks scurried, sailboats fluffed. It was late summer in Chilson and all was well with the world.

Rafe came back laden with two of the biggest picnic baskets I’d ever seen.

“How hungry do you think I am?” I asked, laughing.

He plopped both baskets near my feet. “Basket number two contains your favorite meal from your favorite restaurant, and no, I’m not talking about Fat Boys. This is courtesy of a certain chef from a restaurant that is getting almost too popular for its own good.”

“But I just talked to Kristen. She didn’t say anything about this. And it’s lunch hour. They don’t serve that whitefish until evening.”

“If you know the blonde like I do,” he said, “anything is possible.”

The undeniable smells of whitefish stuffed with crabmeat wafted my way. “The blonde can be sneaky.” I smiled. “What’s the occasion?”

“Ah. That calls for basket number one.” He dragged it closer, and I heard a faint “Mrr.”

“Eddie?” I opened the basket and saw the cat carrier. Half of Eddie’s whiskers and his nose were visible through the wire door.

“Mrr.”

I looked at Rafe, who was looking extremely pleased with himself. “Eddie’s fine with heights,” I said, puzzled, “but why on earth did you bring him up here?”

My beloved leaned forward and pulled the cat carrier out of the basket. “Mr. Hamilton,” he said, “I love your Minnie very much and I would like your permission to marry her.”

“You’re asking my cat for my hand in marriage?”

“No interrupting,” he said. “I have this all memorized.”

“You do not.”

“No, but I’m on a roll. Mr. Eddie, yesterday your Minnie told me she wanted a marriage proposal we can tell our kids about. I’m not the most creative guy in the world, but I can’t think of anyone who’s been proposed to on a roof. So what do you think? Will this fit the requirement? And do I have your permission?”

“Mrr!” Eddie said. “Mrr!”

“Double yes.” Rafe patted the carrier. “Thanks, buddy. You’re the best.”

“Rafe,” I said softly. “You don’t—”

“Minnie.” He took my hands in one of his and kissed them. “You are the love of my life, holder of my happiness, and keeper of my dreams. You make the sun shine when clouds are gray. We are better together than we are apart. Though you have horrible taste in music—”

“Hey!”

“—we laugh at the same things, and since we laugh a lot, nothing else really matters. So. Minerva Joy Hamilton. Will you marry me?”

Crying and laughing at the same time, I said, “Of course I will.”

Rafe kissed me soundly. Pulled away, then came back for another one. “Double version for Eddie’s double yes.”

It was classic Rafe from top to bottom, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing, not the roof, not the food, and certainly not the cat. After we ended the Second Kiss, Rafe opened the picnic basket and I glanced at Eddie.

He was sitting meatloaf-style and looking directly at me. When our gazes met, he opened and closed his mouth in two silent “Mrr’s.” More doubles. And then my eyes opened wide. In all the fuss after last night, I’d never had the chance to think about the implications.

“You know what? Eddie saved me and Kate last night. Twice.”

“How’s that?” Rafe handed me a china plate from Three Seasons laden with whitefish, roasted Brussels sprouts, and redskin potatoes.

“The nail in the shed,” I said. “If Eddie hadn’t pushed that back inside, we would have been still in there when Courtney and Luke came back. And if he hadn’t distracted them by running through their flashlight beams, they might have looked closer at the trail we’d left.”

We exchanged a glance, then Rafe stared at Eddie and slowly said, “He really did, didn’t he?”

I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his furry nose, which was still poking out through the wire door. “You’re the smartest cat in the whole wide world,” I said. “Anything you want, all you have to do is ask. We’ll get it for you. Anything at all.”

Eddie looked at me. At Rafe. Back at me.

Then closed his eyes.

And fell asleep.