Sleight of Paw (29 page)

As soon as she was done Ruby crossed to where I was standing. “Kathleen, there’s something I forgot to tell you.”

“What is it?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Justin was looking at us, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other.

“Obviously, Justin doesn’t know anything about Harry and Agatha.”

“I won’t say anything.”

She ran her fingers along her hairline, damp with sweat. “I’m just going to tell him you found an old picture that you me want to look at. I mean, that’s true as far as it goes.”

“That sounds good to me.” I didn’t like lying to people and I thought there were way too many secrets being kept as it was, but it wasn’t my place to reveal things Harry and Agatha had wanted to stay private.

I followed Ruby over to where Justin waited. “How was class?” he asked, leaning over to give Ruby a kiss on the top of her head. He looked at me and smiled. “Hey, Kathleen.”

“Hi,” I said.

“Class was good,” Ruby said, moving out to the coats. “Could we give Kathleen a ride home? She found an old picture she’d like me to take a look at.”

“Yeah, sure,” Justin said. He turned to me. “Where do you live?”

“Up Mountain Road,” I said, stepping into my boots. “On the right. The fourth house before Pine.”

“I know where that is. Little white farmhouse, right?”

I nodded. “That’s it.” I stuffed my shoes into my bag, pulled on my coat and hat and followed Justin and Ruby down the steps.

Justin drove a small blue Focus.

Ruby turned partway around as we headed up the hill. “I meant to tell you before. I heard you waxed Detective Gordon’s”—she paused and grinned at me—“tail at the puck shoot.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Let’s just say I was little better than he was expecting.”

She laughed. “Considering the past couple of days, I love it.”

“You play hockey, Kathleen?” Justin asked.

“Street hockey,” I said. Justin turned onto Mountain Road. “Oh, I should warn you about my cats.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I like cats, although I’m more of a dog person myself.”

“My cats were feral. They don’t let anyone touch them but me.”

“Sure,” Justin said with a shrug.

“Is Rebecca still buying them chickens?” Ruby asked. “I met her in the Grainery a couple of times last summer.”

“She is,” I said. “At least for Owen. Hercules doesn’t care.”

“Hercules?” Justin asked. “After the strong man?”

“Yes,” I said. More or less, anyway. Warrior of myth and legend, and on-screen incarnation of one Kevin Sorbo, if I was telling the truth.

“That’s it right there,” I said to Justin, pointing out the driveway.

He pulled in by the house and they followed me around to the back door. I had expected at least one cat to be in the kitchen, but there was no sign of either of them. I dropped my coat on one of the chairs. “The picture is upstairs,” I said to Ruby. “I’ll be right back.”

The photo fragment was on the table by the window, along with the scrap from the brown envelope that Hercules had taken from Eric’s office. That reminded me: I still wanted to figure out where Eric had been last Wednesday night. I grabbed the torn picture and headed back downstairs. “Here it is,” I said to Ruby.

She laid the photograph on the table and studied it carefully. Then she looked up at me. Nothing in her face gave her away except for the smile that pulled at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have a clue who might’ve lost this. You could ask Maggie. She’s been going through old pictures for weeks.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Or you could ask Harry Taylor. He knows everyone in town.”

I knew what she meant. “That’s a good idea.”

“Okay. Let’s get going,” Ruby said to Justin.

“Thank you for the ride, Justin,” I said.

“No problem.”

Just then Hercules came in from the living room.

Ruby smiled. “Hello, puss,” she said, leaning down closer to his level. “This is Hercules, right?”

“Yes. And that’s Owen.” He’d just stuck his tabby head around the doorframe to see what he was missing.

Hercules was still studying Ruby. Justin leaned over beside her. “Hey, cat,” he said. Herc’s head swiveled left. His eyes narrowed and he hissed.

Justin started and straightened. “Whoa!” He looked from the cat to me. “You weren’t kidding about those cats.”

Behind Hercules, Owen crept closer, his ears flattened against his head.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ruby said in a low, soft voice.

Hercules turned back to her, looked into her face and twitched his whiskers almost as though he were saying,
I don’t have a problem with
you. Then he took a step toward Justin and hissed again. Justin took about a half dozen steps backward.

I moved between them. “Justin, I’m sorry,” I said. “They grew up at Wisteria Hill. They’re not always good with people.”

He shrugged, but it was just a shade too casual. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “They probably smell dog on me. Like I said, I’m a dog person.” He turned to Ruby, but I could see he was still watching Hercules out of the corner of his eye. “We better get going,” he said.

“Thanks for looking at the picture,” I said to Ruby. “I’ll check with Harry.”

“Good idea,” she said. “I really think that picture will mean something to him.”

I walked them to the back door and waited until I heard the car pull out of the driveway. Then I went back into the kitchen.

Owen and Hercules were sitting by the table. Herc was washing his face. Owen was sniffing who knew what on the floor. I folded my arms across my chest and glared at them. “Okay. What the heck was that all about?”

O
wen at least looked guilty; he hung his head and slunk over to me. I crouched down and he looked up at me, a cute-guilty combo.

“Why did you do that?” I asked him. “The first time Marcus came here you all but climbed onto his lap. What’s wrong with Justin?”

His gold eyes narrowed and his ears went back again. “I get that you don’t like him,” I said, patting the top of his head. “But why?”

Of course, since he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t exactly tell me.

I turned to Hercules, who was still washing his face and studiously ignoring me. “You didn’t like Justin, either.”

Lick, lick, lick, and then the paw wiped the face.

“He’s intense—I’ll give you that—and self-absorbed, but that whole show with the ears back and the hissing was a bit over-the-top. If you didn’t like the guy, couldn’t you just, I don’t know, ignore him? Like you’re doing to me right now?”

The phone rang then and I went to answer it.

“Hey,” Maggie said. “You disappeared so fast I didn’t get a chance to ask if you wanted to walk down and catch the end of the all-star game.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Ruby and Justin offered me a ride.”

“She seems more like herself, doesn’t she?” Maggie said.

“Yeah, she does.” I hesitated for a second. If I was going to check out drinking establishments I didn’t want to go by myself, and this wasn’t really the type of road trip I could take Hercules or Owen on. Plus, I needed a car. “Hey, Mags, do you feel like going out?” I asked.

“The game’s probably close to over.”

“I was thinking more like going out for a drink,” I said.

For a moment there was only silence. Then Maggie said, “A drink?”

“Uh-huh.”

“At a bar?”

“Why not? Why not try something new? Meet some new people.”

Another silence. Then Maggie spoke again. “Kathleen, if you’re being held captive by some freak, winter-loving terrorist, say ‘avocado’ and I’ll hang up and call the police.”

I laughed. “I haven’t been kidnapped and I haven’t lost my mind. I want to check out some of the bars up on the highway. It’s something that might help Ruby.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m on my way.”

I was so surprised for a moment, I didn’t speak.

“You thought I’d say no.” Maggie chortled.

“I thought you’d at least want more of an explanation.”

“Oh, I do,” she said. “You can tell me on the way. Right now go put on some lipstick and wear something feminine.”

I looked down at my comfortable exercise pants and long-sleeved T-shirt. “You mean, don’t dress like a librarian.”

“I didn’t say that,” Maggie countered. “But yes. You have fifteen minutes.” With that she hung up.

Owen and Hercules were both sitting by the footstool. “Maggie and I are going barhopping,” I told them. I looked down at Owen. “Your girlfriend wants me to dress cute.” He turned and headed for the stairs. I looked at Hercules and shrugged, and we followed Owen up to the bedroom.

I pulled a pair of khaki pants out of the closet. I might have imagined it—he might just have been taking a swipe at something stuck to his fur—but it almost seemed as if Owen put a paw over his face. I took out my favorite black trousers. He sneezed. “There’s nothing wrong with those black pants,” I said. He disappeared into the far left end of the closet.

“There’s nothing back there,” I said. I heard an answering meow. I looked at Hercules, who was just sitting and watching the two of us.

Owen meowed again. I started flipping through the hangers. I had two more pairs of black trousers, the gray pants with the cuffs I’ve been wearing the morning Ruby had found Agatha’s body, and way at the back, a pair of slim jeans. I could see Owen’s golden eyes gleaming up at me.

“Those don’t fit.”

He meowed his dissent. I took the hanger off the rod. “Maggie’s going to be here in ten minutes,” I said. “I’m going to try these on just to show you you’re wrong and then I’m going to pick out my own clothes, because last time I checked you didn’t have a subscription to
Vogue
.”

I tugged on the jeans. The first surprise was that I could get them on. The second was that I could zip them up. They were snug, but not skintight. Hercules walked around me. Owen poked his head out of the closet door.

“Fine. I’ll wear them,” I said. The last time I’d fit into those jeans was probably more than a year ago. My sister, Sara, had talked me into them. I couldn’t help checking out the rear view in the mirror. Maybe all that walking up and down Mountain Road was paying dividends—which still didn’t mean I didn’t need a car.

I rifled through my tops and found a cranberry sweater. Sara had bought that for me. It had a deep V-neck and the soft knit hugged me all over. It wasn’t me at all. Which probably meant I should wear it.

I put on lipstick and dangling earrings and tousled my hair. Not only did I not look like myself, but I didn’t feel like myself, which probably indicated I was on the right track.

I was ready when Maggie tapped on the porch door and came in. I held up my arms and did a little twirl.

“Not bad,” she said approvingly.

Owen walked in as I got my coat. Maggie bent down and he stopped maybe three feet from her. “Hey, Fur Ball,” she said. He got all squirmy but didn’t get any closer. Maggie kept talking softly to him, and I grabbed my purse and boots.

“Hey, do you have any other boots?” she said over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong with my boots?”

“Well, they’re kind of . . . sensible.”

“You think they’re ugly.” She was wearing brown suede boots that molded to her legs. I swear my first thought was that they probably didn’t have a very warm lining.

Maggie looked me up and down. “I don’t think they go with your outfit.” She turned back to Owen and gave him a conspiratorial grin.

I went fishing in the living room closet and pulled out a pair of black dress boots with heels. I’d bought them in Boston and brought them with me when I moved to Mayville. The first time it had snowed here, I’d worn them to work. I didn’t make that mistake the second time it snowed.

Maggie said good-bye to Owen. I locked up and we got in Maggie’s bug. Before she had even fastened her seat belt she turned to me. “Before we go, where are we going and why are we going?”

I handed her a piece of paper on which I’d copied the names of the bars I wanted to check out.

Maggie’s face was unreadable as she scanned the list. She looked at me again. “Now I know where we’re going. Why are we going?”

“You know Eric doesn’t drink?” I said.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded and gave a slight shrug.

I hated violating Eric’s privacy, but there wasn’t any way around it that I could see. “He was drinking Wednesday night.”

Maggie blinked a couple of times, then frowned. “Are you sure?”

I picked at loose thread on my glove. “I’m sure.”

She began to slowly shake her head. “Kathleen, no. I’m sorry. You’re wrong.”

I held up a hand. “Maggie, I don’t think Eric ran over Agatha. Wherever he was, he walked home. But he definitely drank. What I want to know is where he was and, more important, who he was with.”

She exhaled slowly. “Why don’t you ask him . . . or Susan?”

“I did,” I said. “Whoever this person is, Eric used to be his sponsor. He won’t violate that relationship for anything.”

“You think the person Eric was with might have hit Agatha.”

I nodded.

“Kathleen, that’s a real long shot.”

I peeled off my glove before I picked that loose thread into a hole. “I know,” I said. “It’s not the only thing I have to go on. I found out that there may be as many as three trucks identical to Ruby’s on the road.”

“So who owns them?”

“Roma is checking that out for me.”

Maggie stared out the windshield. “Kath, what about talking to Marcus?”

“I already did.”

That got her full attention.

“I bumped into him on the way to class.”

“And?”

“And he didn’t exactly do a Perry Mason and declare it was clear that Ruby was innocent.”

Maggie opened her mouth, but I spoke before she could. “Look, I know you think Marcus and I would make a great couple, and I do think he’s a decent cop, but he thinks he has the person who ran down Agatha—Ruby. I could find all of those trucks and line them up in front of the police station, and unless I had the person who really killed Agatha trussed up with duct tape in the back of one of them, I don’t see him changing his mind.”