Faux Paw: A Magical Cats Mystery (13 page)

T
here was no reason for Gavin to stay, so he left. Marcus got on his cell phone and moved a couple of steps away. Hope walked over to me. “Mary Lowe and Gavin Solomon dancing at The Brick.” She shook her head. “My mind just won’t go there.”

“I was there once for amateur night,” I said.

Her eyebrows went up.

“Not to perform. It was during the investigation of Agatha Shepherd’s murder.”

Hope grinned. “Sure it was, Kathleen,” she teased.

“Mary’s act was very popular.” I didn’t add that I had only seen a moment of her performance because I was so embarrassed at seeing one of my staff members on The Brick’s stage in high heels, fishnets, a corset and pretty much nothing else that I’d grabbed Maggie and literally dragged her to the parking lot.

Hope put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear this,” she said.

I leaned my head close to hers. “I have one word for you. Feathers.”

She made a face and dropped her hands. “Okay. You’re going to have to start delivering books to my house because I’m never going to be able to come into the library and look Mary in the eye ever again.”

Marcus stuck his phone in his pocket and walked over to us. “I have to go back to the station,” he said to Hope.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I want to go out back and see how the crime scene techs are doing.” She smiled at me. “I’ll see you later, Kathleen.”

I nodded.

“I’d better get home and see what Owen and Hercules have been up to,” I said to Marcus. I reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

He looked around, then leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “You’ll find some papers kind of spread around the living room. Don’t give Owen a hard time about them, because really, he was the one who found Margo Walsh’s date book.”

“Owen found Margo’s date book?” It occurred to me that if anyone heard us talking they would have thought that Owen was a person. Of course, he seemed to think he was.

Marcus nodded. “Uh-huh.”

We started for the door. “I have a feeling this is going to be good,” I said. “How exactly did
my
cat find a piece of
your
evidence?”

“I stopped at your house just before lunch to check on the cats. I realized I’d forgotten the drawing I’d made of the cabinet.”

Maggie and I had found an old 1960s vintage wooden cabinet at the same flea market where we’d gotten Roma’s bench. I’d sanded off the old finish and Marcus was going to add shelves and legs before I painted it.

“It’s on the counter by the toaster,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I found it. But I checked the living room first.”

Marcus locked up the building and set the alarm and we stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine.

“So exactly how did these papers end up spread around my living room?” I asked.

“You had a couple of boxes next to that big chair.”

I bent to pick up a candy wrapper on the second step. “Those were my files about the exhibit. “Don’t tell me Owen got the top off one of the boxes.”

“I think he just wanted to see what was inside.”

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “What did he do?” I said.

Marcus hesitated.

“What did he do?” I repeated.

“He kind of spread everything around the living room . . . a little,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

“That little fur ball isn’t going to see a stinky cracker for a very long time,” I said, shaking a finger for emphasis. “I just got those files finished and organized so I could bring them down here and put them away. Now I have to start all over again. I can’t believe he got that lid off the box.”

Marcus smiled. “He’s pretty resourceful.”

I shook my head. “Oh no.”

He looked surprised. “What do you mean, no? I didn’t ask you anything.”

“You want me to let Owen off the hook. In fact, you probably want me to give him a treat.” I stopped at the edge of the parking lot and squinted up at him.

“I wouldn’t have found Margo’s date book if Owen hadn’t gotten into that box. Do you have any idea how it ended up there, by the way?”

“Margo helped me put all those files in the boxes. It probably got mixed up with one of the piles of paper and got put in by mistake.”

“If I hadn’t found Margo’s date book I wouldn’t have known Gavin was lying about when he and Margo met. And I might not have found out that his alibi was a fake.”

“Which doesn’t do you any good because he has another alibi, which I’d just as soon not know about.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “You and me both. But my point is, Owen helped me find that date book. Once I finish going through it, who knows what other bits of evidence I might get from it.”

“You make it sound as though he knew the date book was in the box and opened it so you’d find it.” I had an uncomfortable feeling, niggling away at the base of my brain, that that was exactly what had happened, which meant I’d just made Marcus’s point.

“Okay, I know that didn’t happen, but he did help.” Marcus raised his eyebrows and smiled at me. He had a gorgeous smile that still had the ability to make me feel like a love-struck teenager when I wasn’t imagining what it was like to kiss his equally gorgeous mouth.

I realized then that he was waiting for me to say something while I was focusing on his mouth instead of the words coming out of it.

I let out a small sigh. “You win,” I said, reaching up to brush back the lock of dark hair that had fallen down onto his forehead.

“Thank you,” he said.

“That little fur ball owes you,” I said.

Marcus laughed. “A cat in my debt,” he said. “Now, that’s useful.”

Given what Owen was capable of, it really was, but I didn’t say that.

Marcus gave me a drive up the hill because my boots weren’t really made for walking up Mountain Road.

“Thank you for the ride,” I said as I undid my seat belt after he’d pulled into my driveway.

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “I’ll call you later. And by the way, you look beautiful.”

I felt my cheeks flood with color as I got out of the car.

Owen was sitting by the table in the kitchen. He meowed the moment he saw me, coming over to wind himself around my legs. I bent down and picked him up and he immediately nuzzled my cheek.

“Never mind trying to get on my good side,” I said. He tipped his head to one side and looked at me, the absolute image of adorable kitty.

Hercules appeared in the living room doorway. “Mrrr,” he said softly; then he looked back over his shoulder.

I kissed the top of Owen’s head and set him down. “I know,” I said to Hercules. “Marcus told me.” I crossed the kitchen to him and leaned over to stroke his dark fur. “I heard he helped Marcus find some evidence.”

I know cats can’t shrug, but it almost seemed that he did. Then he took a few steps into the living room, turned and looked at me. I went to stand beside him. The contents of one file box were strewn all over the living room. All over. There were papers on the floor, under the wing chair and on the footstool. I blew out a breath and looked at Hercules.

“Was this all Owen?” I asked.

“Merow,” he said.

“Some of it was Marcus, wasn’t it?”

The floor was suddenly very interesting.

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “It explains why Marcus was so quick to spring to Owen’s defense.”

Hercules kept me company while I piled the papers in the box again. He even managed to snag an empty file folder that had somehow ended up underneath the sofa.

I scooped him up once we were finished. “Thank you,” I said. “What would I do without you?”

He narrowed his green eyes at me as though he were actually contemplating the question.

I spent the rest of the afternoon making phone calls, taking a break long enough to make a pan of cinnamon rolls and call Harrison to see if he would be free after supper for a visit. I still wanted to hear about the woman he’d met online. By suppertime I’d managed to coordinate moving most of the library’s programs temporarily over to Maggie’s studio, with the seniors heading to Henderson Holdings for their reading group. And Harrison had called back to say he’d see me at about seven thirty.

After supper I sat on the living room floor with Hercules beside me and reorganized the box of papers. And played
Barry
Manilow Live
from the iPod dock. There was no sign of Owen.

Young Harry dropped off Harry Senior just before seven thirty. “I’ll be back to get him in about an hour,” Harry said to me.

“There’s no rush,” I said.

“We’re just fine. Go,” the old man said, waving one hand at his son. Harry mouthed a “thank you” at me and left.

Harrison settled himself at the table. “Something smells good,” he commented.

“Cinnamon rolls,” I said. “Would you like one?”

“Are they good for me?” he asked reaching in his pocket for something. Hercules had wandered in from somewhere and was sitting next to Harrison’s chair looking up at him.

“Probably not,” I said.

“In that case, yes, I’ll have one along with a cup of that coffee I smell.” He pulled what looked like a small piece of old shoe leather out of his pocket and held it out to Hercules. The cat sniffed it curiously and then took it from him, holding it in place on the floor with one paw and chewing happily on the other end.

“What are you feeding my cat?” I asked as I set a plate in front of the old man.

“Turkey jerky,” he said. Hercules looked up at him and seemed to almost smile just as the basement door opened and Owen appeared. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, then headed toward our guest.

“I didn’t forget you,” Harrison said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He took out a second piece of the jerky and held it out to Owen, who meowed his thanks and took it.

“Turkey jerky?” I asked as I poured our coffee.

“Burtis and the boys made it,” Harrison said. “It’s pretty good. Sorry I didn’t bring a piece for you.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take your word on it,” I said, joining him at the table.

He grinned at me. “It’s good stuff.” He patted his chest with one large hand. “It’ll put hair on your chest.”

I smiled back at him. “That’s just what I need.”

He laughed and leaned back in the chair with his coffee. “So tell me, when’s the library going to reopen? I’ve got about a half a dozen books requested.”

“It’s going to be sometime next week at least,” I said adding cream and sugar to my cup. “But if something you’ve been waiting for comes in, I’ll bring it out to you.”

“That’s good of you, Kathleen,” Harrison said. He took a bite of his cinnamon roll, smiled and licked a dab of icing off the side of his thumb. “That’s better than Burtis’s jerky.”

“That’s high praise,” I teased.

He reached over and patted my hand. “You’re darn right it is.” He took a long sip of his coffee and then his gaze focused on my face. “So start with the questions.”

I pulled one leg up underneath me. “No questions,” I said. “I’d like to hear about this woman you’ve met.”

“My son’s time would be better spent finding a date of his own.”

I nodded. “Maybe. But we’re not talking about Harry; we’re talking about you.”

“I met a woman. Yes, I know how to use a computer. I’m old, not dead. We decided it’s time we met in person. End of story.”

“Harry and Elizabeth are worried about you.”

He broke off another section of cinnamon roll, popped it in his mouth and ate it. “Kathleen, you know I love my kids. Harry is a damn fine man.” He mock frowned at me. “And if you repeat that to him I’ll pretend I had a stroke and was just mumbling nonsense.” He reached for his coffee again. “For a while I wasn’t even sure I was going to meet Elizabeth, let alone get to be part of her life, and I’m grateful every day that it all worked out. And I’m grateful for your part in that.”

I smiled across the table at him. “I did very little, but I’m glad it helped.”

“They worry too much, Kathleen,” Harrison said. “We’re meeting in a public place and I’m going to that meeting with my eyes wide-open. I know my lady friend could be a bald fella in sweatpants, but I don’t think she is. All I can tell you is when you’re looking at life from my end of things, it looks pretty damn short.”

“All right,” I said.

“All right?” He looked surprised. “That’s it?”

I smiled at him. “You didn’t see that coming, did you?”

He gave a snort of laughter. “No, I did not.”

“You have good judgment, Harrison,” I said. “I don’t think you’re going to do anything stupid.”

“I had a whole argument worked out, you know,” he said. His eyes were twinkling.

“And I’m sure it was a good one,” I said, taking the last bite of my own cinnamon roll. “I’ll listen to it if you’d like.”

His shook his head and fingered his white beard. “I should have known I didn’t need an argument for you. You’re pretty much the most sensible person I know.”

I got up to get myself more coffee and squeezed his shoulder as I passed behind his chair. “More like I know what a waste of time it is getting into any argument with you.”

He put his hand on mine for a moment and laughed. “Are you trying to say I’m a bit stubborn?”

“A bit?” I countered.

Harrison laughed. “There are damn few perks to being as old as I am, Kathleen,” he said. “Having my own way is one of them and I’m not about to let it go.”

We spent the rest of our time together talking about what was going on around town. When Young Harry arrived to pick up his father, the old man got to his feet and gave me a hug. “Always good to see you, Kathleen,” he said. “Come out to the house sometime for supper. It’s been too long.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

He looked at his son.

“I’ll set it up,” Harry Junior said.

Harrison headed for the porch door. “I’m going out to the truck so you two can talk about me behind my back.”

“Yeah, we appreciate that, Dad,” Harry said drily. Once we heard the outside door close he turned back to me. “You didn’t have any luck, did you?”

I shook my head. “You know what he’s like. He has his mind made up and nothing is going to change that.”