Paws Аnd Effect

6

“So who could have wanted Dani dead?” Hope asked.

I tucked my hair behind one ear. “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t know. I met her one time.”

“Is John Keller still at the library going through those dried plant samples?”

“Wait a minute. You don’t think . . . ?”

Hope waved the question away. “No. I don’t think either of Marcus’s friends killed Dani. They both have alibis. Keller was with Rebecca.” She gestured in the direction of the backyard. “And Travis Rosen was in Red Wing at a meeting with someone from the Department of Natural Resources.”

“That’s good to know,” I said. “John should be at the library tomorrow, but he’s pretty much done.”

Hope propped both forearms on the table. “Could you talk to him? See what you could find out?”

“Okay,” I said. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you can find out about her family. We know she has a brother—Dominic McAllister. I spoke to him, and a grandmother. Did they get along? Is there any other family?”

“What are you going to do?”

“See what I can find on Ernie Kingsley.”

“The majority shareholder in the development company.”

“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

“Lita,” I said, getting to my feet. “More coffee?”

Hope shook her head.

The basement door opened then and Owen appeared. He had the end of a red plaid scarf in his mouth. He passed through the kitchen, giving a muffled meow as he headed for the living room.

Hope watched the whole thing with an amused look on her face.

“I have no idea,” I said in answer to her unspoken question.

She laughed. It was a good sound to hear after the tension of our previous conversation. “I thought maybe you’d taught him to put the laundry away for you.”

I laughed as well. “I did very briefly wonder if it was possible to teach him how to push the buttons on the washing machine so he could do a load of towels.”

“Merow!” Hercules interjected loudly.

Hope looked down at him. “I’m sure you could do laundry, too,” she said.

After Hope left I got my laptop and went into the living room, curling up in the big chair. Hercules followed, jumped onto the footstool and looked expectantly at me.

“Yes, you can help,” I said.

Hercules and I spent the next hour researching Danielle McAllister and her family. Dani’s parents had been killed in a plane crash when she was twelve. She’d been raised after that by her brother, Dominic, almost ten years older, and her paternal grandmother. The McAllisters were very wealthy and very conservative. The family fortune began with shipbuilding, massive wooden boats that took to the sea during the age of sail.

Dominic McAllister ran McAllister Enterprises, which was made up of, by my best guess, at least half a dozen different businesses including several hotels. I found it interesting that Dani was listed in the company’s annual report as being on the board of directors but, unlike the other members, there was no mention of what she did for a living.

After a bit of digging going all the way back to her college years, I found some photos of Dani with her brother and her grandmother at several charity events sponsored by her family’s company. I noticed Dani was usually dressed down just a little—no elegant black dresses with four-inch heels for her. And the truth was she was stunningly beautiful in a flowing, gauzy skirt and flat sandals.

“I’m starting to think Dani’s environmental work may have been her way of rebelling a little. It looks like she may have been the black sheep of her family.

“Mrr?” Hercules asked, his black-and-white head tipped to one side—mostly so he could view the computer screen without having to move from the spot on my lap where he’d settled.

“No, I don’t think being a black sheep is anything like being a black-and-white cat,” I said. I had no idea what he’d actually been asking me, but my answer seemed to satisfy him.

* * *

John came into the library just after ten o’clock the next morning. Tuesdays were busy, so I’d been keeping an eye out for him and I met him at the door.

“Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “Is the meeting room free? I just need to go though a few more plant samples that look promising.”

“The room is still yours,” I said. “I just made a cup of coffee. Do you have time for one?”

He nodded. “That sounds good.”

I took John up to the staff room. He sat at the table while I poured coffee for both of us. I thought about all the cups Marcus and I had shared in the same space.

“Cinnamon roll?” I asked, bringing over the plate Mary had brought in with her. “They’re wonderful, I promise. Mary made them and she has some sort of secret ingredient I haven’t been able to wheedle out of her.”

I hoped that the combination of coffee and one of Mary’s sweet cinnamon creations would put John in a talkative frame of mind.

“Hey these are good,” he said, taking a large bite. He chewed and swallowed, gesturing with one hand. “Was Abigail serious when she told me that Mary is a kickboxer, or was she pulling my leg?”

“She was serious. Mary has been regional and state champion more than once for her age and weight class.”

“But she looks like Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother.”

I laughed. “And she could take you down faster than the Big Bad Wolf.”

“I’ll remember that next time I ask to use the printer.” John grinned, then his expression grew serious. “Kathleen, how’s Marcus doing, really? It’s ridiculous that the police are even looking at him as a suspect. He hadn’t talked to Dani—or any of us, for that matter—in years. It was just that we met that morning the two of you walked into the restaurant. And then he kills her? C’mon!”

“It doesn’t hang together because Marcus didn’t do it.” I hesitated. “John, was there anyone who had a problem with Dani, maybe a conflict over a project or some kind of environmental issue?”

He slumped back in the chair. “You always get a few crackpots who call us tree-hugging hippies or crunchy granola space cadets but that’s all it’s ever been—words and a couple of times protestors with signs.”

“What about with this project?”

He made a face. “When the different groups banded together to stop the Long Lake project Ernie Kingsley requested a meeting. He offered to make a large donation to every group if we’d all drop our opposition to the project.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I take it that didn’t go well?”

“No, it didn’t. But my point is that Kingsley is a businessman. He solves problems by throwing money at them. Not by throwing a body over an embankment.”

“What about her family? Could someone have gone after Dani as a way to get to her brother or her grandmother, maybe?”

John brushed crumbs off the front of his shirt. “I don’t know that much about her family’s business dealings. They own three or four fancy hotels. They’re the largest manufacturer of sails in the world and they also run several wind-turbine farms. Not a whole lot of controversy or reasons to kill anyone there. She was very close to her brother and her grandmother. They were really proud of her work. And if there was any problem I think Dani would have said something to me. We were pretty close.” He held up a hand. “As friend, nothing romantic.”

I remembered Dani’s bio in McAllister Enterprises’ annual report. If her family was so proud of her work why wasn’t it mentioned? “What about since you all got here?” I asked. “Did you have any run-ins with anyone about the resort plans?” I rubbed the space between my eyebrows with one finger where a headache was forming. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot with all these questions.”

John leaned forward, putting both hands flat on the table. “Don’t apologize. You’re worried about Marcus. I get that.” He hesitated, opened his mouth and closed it again.

“What is it?” I said.

“I don’t want to offend you or give you the wrong impression.”

“But.”

“Is it possible someone from around here killed Dani?” Before I could say anything both of his hands came up off the table. “I don’t mean on purpose, Kathleen. I mean by accident. He—or she, I guess—came across Dani working out there, they got into some kind of an argument and things just got out of hand. This kind of project can stir up strong feelings on both sides. I’ve seen it before.”

I couldn’t tell him what Hope had shared, that Dani had been hit by a car and her body moved. Even though there were strong feelings on both side of the development proposal I just couldn’t believe that anyone in Mayville Heights felt so strongly that they’d run Dani down over it and then dump her body. I knew these people. I knew what they were capable of and it wasn’t murder. Not over this.

But I didn’t say any of that. All I did was nod and say, “You’re right. It has stirred up a lot of complicated feelings.”

“I need to get to work,” John said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. “Look, from what I’ve seen the police here seem to know what they’re doing. Let them do their job, Kathleen. It’ll work out.”

He headed for the stairs and I put the dishes in the sink. I hadn’t learned that much about Dani except that based on what John had said, the conclusions I’d made after my online research seemed to be wrong.

* * *

I took my lunch outside to the gazebo and called Hope. I told her what I’d discovered. It didn’t take very long.

“I didn’t find out much about Ernie Kingsley, either,” she said. “Nothing that isn’t part of the public record. His grandfather started Kingsley-Pearson. They made their money with car dealerships. They own fifty-six of them. But other than saying Ernie is a shrewd businessman, no one will say anything else about him.” I heard her sigh. “At least not to me.”

The breeze off the water blew my hair against my face. I brushed it back. “How about you see if you can find anything more about the McAllisters’ and let me see if I can learn more about Ernie Kingsley?” I said.

“Why not?” Hope said. “You couldn’t do any worse than I have so far.” She said good-bye with a promise she’d call me with whatever she found out about Dani’s family.

So how could I find out more about the developer? Everett? I knew he liked Marcus and if I went to Rebecca she’d nudge her husband to help. Then I remembered Rebecca telling me that Everett was going to Japan on business for a few days. Who else could I talk to? Lita? I didn’t really want to put her on the spot.

I broke my brownie in half and ate it, hoping somehow inspiration would find me. And then it drove into the parking lot in the form of a delivery truck bringing two boxes of easy readers for our Reading Buddies program.

“Simon Janes,” I said aloud. There were no cats to murp their agreement to my idea and the robin in a nearby tree didn’t seem very interested.

Simon Janes was the father of Mia Janes. She’d come to the library as a student intern and worked out so well that I’d hired her part-time. I knew Simon’s company was involved somehow in commercial real estate. Maybe he could tell me something, anything, about Ernie Kingsley. It was worth a try.

I finished my lunch and went back inside. “I just have to make a call and then I’ll be down to take over,” I said to Susan, who was at the desk sorting books.

“Take your time,” she said. It looked like she’d secured her updo today with a couple of demitasse spoons. I’d learned a long time ago that there was always going to be a sense of whimsy to Susan’s fashion choices.

Upstairs in my office I looked up the number I wanted and after a moment of hesitation punched it into the phone. The phone at the other end rang twice before it was answered. “Good afternoon, Simon Janes’s office,” a polished, professional voice with just a hint of huskiness said.

“Hello,” I said. “It’s Kathleen Paulson from the library calling.”

The professional voice got a little warmer. “Hello, Ms. Paulson. Mia works for you. She’s told me how good you’ve been to her. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” I said. “Mia has been a wonderful asset to the library. She’s a hard worker and everyone from the preschoolers at story time to the seniors book club adores her.”

“I’m not at all surprised,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “So how may I help you?”

“I was hoping to get about ten minutes of Mr. Janes’s time,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Mia.”

I’d met Simon Janes the previous winter at a fundraiser for the library’s Reading Buddies program. He was outspoken to the point of being rude, in my opinion—very different from his quiet, soft-spoken daughter. However, Mia had clearly inherited some of her father’s confidence. When the expansion of the Reading Buddies program had been put at risk because we hadn’t raised enough money, Mia—according to her father—had called him on his brash behavior and pointed out that he could easily afford to fund the program, which he did, with a check from his personal account.

I’d seen Janes several times since then when he came into the library to pick up his daughter. And more than once I’d caught him watching me, a bemused look on his face. He didn’t look away and he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught.

“Would eight o’clock tomorrow morning work for you?” the woman with the lovely voice asked.

“Yes, it would. Thank you,” I said, relieved that she hadn’t asked me why I wanted the meeting. I got directions to Janes’s office, thanked her again and hung up.

Abigail and I were in the workroom, late that afternoon, opening the boxes of readers when Susan poked her head around the doorway. “Call for you, Kathleen,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing bits of paper and packing materials off my hands. I went into my office to answer the phone.

“Hello, Kathleen, it’s Simon Janes,” the voice on the other end said.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Janes,” I said, wondering why he’d called. Was he going to cancel our appointment or did he just want to know why I wanted to see him?”

Luckily, he got right to the point. “We have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow morning and I have to make an unplanned trip to Minneapolis.”

My heart sank.

“But if you’d like to join me for an early supper at the St. James Hotel we could talk then.”

I didn’t want to lose the chance to pick the man’s brain. “Yes, thank you. I would,” I said.

We agreed to meet at the hotel bar at five thirty. I didn’t doubt that Simon Janes had a meeting in Minneapolis, but I also suspected that changing the time and place of our meeting was a way for him to control it. That was fine with me. As Harrison Taylor would say, I’d been around the block a time or two and recognized the scenery.

I left the library at the same time I would have left if I’d been going home to have supper and change for tai chi class. I’d already sent Maggie a text letting her know I might miss class. I parked the truck on a side street near the hotel. I was early but as I walked into the hotel bar I discovered I wasn’t as early as Janes. He was leaning back in his seat at a small table in the center of the room, legs crossed. As I approached he got to his feet and pulled out the other chair for me.

“Hello, Kathleen,” he said. He was tall with a firm handshake and direct gaze, and once again I thought he didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be the parent of a seventeen-year-old.

Since he’d referred to me by my first name I did the same. “Hello, Simon,” I said as I sat down. “Thanks for fitting me into your schedule.”

He took the chair opposite me again. “When Mia’s working at the library I generally eat alone.” He shrugged. “I like my own company but sometimes it’s good to have someone else’s. I’ve heard all my stories.” He gave a practiced, self-deprecating smile.

“Well, I promise to listen attentively and nod and smile in the appropriate places.”

He laughed. “Then it should be a good meal.”

He turned his head and a waiter materialized beside us. He handed each of us a menu.

“Are you driving, Kathleen?” Simon asked.

I nodded.

“Sparkling water, then?”

“Please,” I said.

“Two please, Michael,” he said to the waiter.

The young man nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, the menu untouched on the table in front of him. “How do you feel about pizza?” he asked.

“I like pizza,” I said.

I noticed he had a crescent-shaped scar that ran from the end of his right eyebrow to just below the eye. “Mia says that my habit of suggesting what to order when I’m with a woman is condescending and patriarchal. So I’m just going to say that they have great pizza here and would you like to share one? Of course you don’t have to say yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I think that covers all the disclaimers.”

I couldn’t help smiling back at him. I’d seen his arrogance and I had no doubt that he could be condescending and patriarchal, but he could also be charming. “I’ve never had the pizza here,” I said, “but I’ve heard good things about it, so yes, let’s split one.”

Michael, the waiter, returned with our sparkling water. I squeezed a little lime into mine and took a drink while Simon relayed our order, taking the opportunity to study the man. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but his dark suit was expensive and expertly tailored. He was somewhere below six feet, rangy, with his hair buzzed close to his head. He certainly looked the part of the successful businessman but something about the way he carried himself made me think he’d started at the bottom. He reminded me of Burtis Chapman, I realized. I wouldn’t want either man for an enemy.

Once the waiter left Simon turned his attention to me. “So what do you want to ask me about first?” he said. “The Long Lake proposal or Ernie Kingsley?”

I think my mouth fell open in surprise. “How did you know?” I managed to get out.

“I knew this meeting had nothing to do with Mia,” he said. “I know she’s happy working for you and I’ve picked her up enough times to feel confident that you’re all happy with her.”

I nodded. “We are.”

“From what Mia’s told me the reading program is going well and you don’t have any papers with you, so you didn’t want to meet with me to hit me up for money.”

He’d approached our meeting the same way I might have. “You’re right again,” I said.

One forearm rested on the edge of the table. The other was on his leg. He didn’t have any fidgety tics that I’d picked up so far. “You and Detective Gordon are a couple.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t say anything.

“He has a connection to the woman who was killed—the geologist with that environmental group.”

I nodded again. “They were friends in college.”

“You’re looking for information.”

The conversation was beginning to feel like a tennis match. Serve and volley. Serve and volley.

“Yes,” was all I said.

“So what? You think Ernie could have killed that woman?”

At least I wasn’t going to have to play any games. “I don’t know. I don’t know the man—he doesn’t have a library card. But you know him. What do you think?”

He laughed. “I don’t have a library card, either. Does that mean I’m flawed as a human being in your eyes?”

Out of the corner of my eyes I caught sight of our waiter, coming from the kitchen. “You’re generous when it’s a good cause, like Reading Buddies, but you don’t like to waste money. I don’t see that as a flaw. Also, you’re a big fan of Vin Diesel and you wanted to be a lawyer.”

I’d timed it perfectly. Michael arrived then with the pizza and our plates. Simon waited until we each had a slice before he spoke.

“Very good,” he said. “How did you do that?”

I took a bite of my pizza before I answered. It was good, with a thin, crispy crust, tomatoes, onions, salami, fresh herbs and wonderfully stringy mozzarella. “This is good,” I said.

Simon didn’t say anything but “I told you so” was written in the expression on his face.

I set my fork down. “So how do I know so much about you? I’m observant. You don’t have a library card, but you do borrow things on Mia’s card. You’ve watched every movie in the Fast and the Furious franchise more than once.”

“Maybe Mia’s the fan,” he said.

I shook my head. “She likes fantasy and Japanese anime. So it has to be you who likes Vin Diesel. You could have bought those movies or downloaded them but you didn’t. That would be a waste of money when you can borrow them for free. But you did give us money for Reading Buddies. That says you’re frugal but not cheap.”

“And law school?”

“Scott Turow and a lucky guess. You’ve read everything we have that he’s written and requested two books we didn’t have. And I know Mia wants to be a doctor.”

For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he laughed. “Very good, Kathleen. I’m impressed. And I’m not easily impressed.”

I cut another bite from my pizza. “I answered your question but you didn’t answer mine.”

“Do I think Ernie could have killed that woman?”

I nodded.

“Ernie Kingsley is a junkyard dog who would sell out his own mother to make a deal. But I don’t think he’d kill someone to make a deal.” His expression turned serious. “He does have a temper, though. Last year he was at some business lunch at a restaurant in Minneapolis. I don’t know any of the details, but things got a little heated, some punches were thrown, the police were called. Then it all went away.” He held up his left hand and ran his thumb over the end of his middle finger, implying, it seemed to me, that money had made everything go away.

“Have you considered that squatter?” Simon asked. He glanced in the direction of the bar and once again the waiter seemed to appear out of nowhere, this time with another glass of sparkling water for Simon. “Could I get you another?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” I turned my attention to Simon. “What squatter?”

“There’s a guy living in the woods out there, close to the lake. He claims his family owned that land a hundred years ago and it was taken from them illegally. I don’t think there’s anything to his claims. In fact it looks like he’s nothing but a deadbeat dad trying to avoid supporting his kids.” He didn’t try to hide the contempt in his voice.

“I know the natural-resources people have had a couple of run-ins with him and I heard that the guy came after Ernie with an ax. Guy has this old truck with some kind of camper thing on the back that he’s living in.”

Hope’s words came back to me: “The medical examiner thinks she was hit by a car, then the body was moved and she was . . . dropped over.”

Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this man, this squatter living in the woods, was the person who killed Dani. Maybe he’d hit her by accident and panicked.

“Thank you, Simon,” I said. The knot that had been in the pit of my stomach since the night Hope showed up at my door loosened.

“I’m glad I could help,” he said.

We spent the rest of the meal talking about Reading Buddies. He seemed genuinely interested and once again I thought that behind the somewhat arrogant exterior there was a pretty nice guy.

Before we parted ways in front of the hotel Simon took out a business card and scribbled something on the back of it before handing it to me. “My cell phone number. If I can help with anything else.”

I headed back to the truck and drove up Mountain Road. A furry-faced committee of two was waiting in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, dropping my briefcase and shoes under the coat hooks. “I was talking to Mia’s father. I may have something that can help find whoever killed Dani.”

I bent down to pet them both. Hercules sniffed my hand and then narrowed his green eyes in suspicion. Owen’s whiskers twitched and he gave a loud and somewhat huffy meow.

“Yes, I had supper with him.” The cats exchanged a look.

“Mrr?” Hercules asked. I knew what that meant. I’d heard it enough times.

“Pizza,” I said.

Hercules made a sound a lot like a sigh. Owen, on the other hand, put on his indignant face and made a point of turning his head and looking away from me.

“It was the only time he had available and it’s not as though I could call you.”

Hercules tipped his head and looked in the direction of the living room, where the phone was.

I put my face close to his and scratched the spot where the white fur of his nose met the black fur from the top of his head. “You don’t have opposable thumbs,” I said.

Beside him Owen gave an audible sigh. I reached over with my free hand and scratched behind his left ear. Then I leaned closer to him. “I’m sorry,” I said. He still wouldn’t look at me.

I got to my feet, got the stinky crackers and put a stack of four in front of each cat. Hercules looked up and smiled at me. Clearly all was forgiven. Owen sniffed the crackers as though he hadn’t eaten hundreds if not thousands of them by now. He eyed me briefly, then nudged the pile over with his nose and began checking the crackers one by one.

Poet Alexander Pope wrote, “To err is human; to forgive divine.” In my experience a few sardine crackers helped getting to the divine.