Faux Paw: A Magical Cats Mystery (16 page)

I didn’t know if Julian McCrea’s business dealings were legitimate or not. I didn’t want anyone to know what I suspected, just in case.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. “I met a woman I believe was Devin Rossi once at a party for the Antony Williams exhibit about three years ago at the Weyman Gallery in Chicago. Without heels I don’t think she’s as tall as you are. She had blond hair and, I think, blue eyes. I’m sorry, that’s all I can tell you.”

“I guess that would just be too easy an answer,” I said. “Again, thank you for talking to me. I’ll get the photo in the mail to you.”

“It was my pleasure, Kathleen,” he said. “Good night.”

I ended the call and set the phone back on the table. Then I got up and went into the living room for my laptop. Rena Adler had blue eyes. Except for the hair color—which could easily be changed—Julian’s description of Devin Rossi could easily have been Rena, or, I had to admit, a million other women. Julian had said he’d met Devin Rossi at a party in Chicago. Was it possible there were photos from that party online? There were. But I couldn’t find Rena Adler in any of them.

“It’s her,” I told the boys. “I know I’m right. So how am I going to convince Marcus?”

The cats exchanged glances. Then they looked at the refrigerator. Clearly this was going to take more thought. And more sardines.

I warmed up my cocoa and went back to the table. I still had half a cinnamon roll on my plate. The idea of an art thief living in Red Wing and coming to Mayville Heights to steal the Sam Weston drawing might sound far-fetched, but I was starting to think it was possible. But how was I going to prove that Rena Adler was that art thief? And, as much as it made me uncomfortable to think about, Margo’s killer?

Owen came over to my chair. Without waiting for an invitation he launched himself onto my lap.

“Hello,” I said.

He nuzzled my cheek, then leaned around me and tried to lick my cup.

“Forget it,” I said. “Hot chocolate is not for cats.” I set the cup on the table and realized that it hadn’t been the hot chocolate Owen had been trying to get at. There was a smudge of icing from the roll on the side of the blue porcelain. I swiped it with my finger and licked off the icing.

Owen grumbled in protest.

“Cinnamon rolls are definitely not cat food,” I told him.

His expression said he wasn’t convinced.

I reached for my cup. I’d left a smear of icing behind on the blue porcelain. And my fingerprint in sugar, butter and vanilla.

I shook my finger at Owen. He followed it, looking almost cross-eyed. “That’s how we can prove who Rena Adler really is.”

Owen shook his head and focused on my face instead.

“Marcus said that there was one partial print from one of her robberies. All we need to do is get Rena’s fingerprints.”

The cat looked at me, almost as though he was wondering how I was going to do that. I looked over at the mixer sitting on the counter.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a plan.”

M
arcus liked to tease that I thought pretty much any problem could be solved with a plate of brownies. That wasn’t true. I thought a blueberry muffin or a nice coffee cake would also work.

“This problem calls for a coffee cake,” I told Owen. He licked his whiskers.

I reached for my phone and called Maggie. “I didn’t take you away from some romantic moment, did I?” I asked.

She gave a snort of laughter. “Not unless you think snaking the toilets at the shop is romantic. What’s up?”

“It doesn’t look like the library is going to open for a few more days. I was thinking of making a coffee cake tomorrow and wondered if you were up for a coffee break Monday morning. You’re going to be in your studio, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I’d love some of your coffee cake.”

“Are Ruby and Rena going to be around?” I asked. “Maybe they could join us.”

“What are you up to?” Maggie said.

“I’m not up to anything.” I was glad that she couldn’t see my face.

Somehow Owen knew it was Maggie on the other end of the phone. He was trying to push his face in against it. “Owen’s trying to say hello,” I said.

“Hey fur ball,” she said.

He heard her. He leaned his head against my hand and started to purr.

“He’s purring,” I said.

“And you’re not being straight with me, Kath.”

I exhaled softly. “I just want to talk to Rena and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Does this have to do with what happened at the library?” Maggie lowered her voice. That told me that someone probably was with her, most likely Brady Chapman.

I hesitated. I didn’t want Maggie mixed up in the middle of this.

“I won’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re up to,” she said. I was surprised by the determination in her voice. “We could have lost you in that fire before Christmas.” She stopped and I heard her swallow.

Maggie, Owen and I had been caught in a burning building back in December in a fire started by the person who had killed Brady Chapman’s mother. Maggie had managed to get out, but Owen and I had been trapped for a while. Maggie still blamed herself for not being able to get us out.

“Mags, I’m fine. I’m not going to do anything dangerous or stupid.” I knew I had to tell her more. “I want to talk to Rena because I think maybe . . . maybe she hasn’t been completely honest about her background. Remember that art dealer Gavin and I went to Minneapolis to talk to?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Not all of his business is legitimate, and I think Rena may know him.”

“Does Marcus know what you’re doing?” she asked.

For a moment I thought about lying. “No,” I said.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“If there’s anything to tell, I will.” I shifted Owen sideways a little so I could reach my cup. That meant he couldn’t keep his head next to the phone. He made a face at me.

“All right,” Maggie said. “It had better be a really good coffee cake.”

“Rhubarb streusel.”

“Give the furry one a kiss from me,” she said.

“Thanks, Mags,” I said.

I put the phone on the table. Then I picked up Owen and kissed the top of his head. “From Maggie,” I said. I knew he understood what I’d said because he started purring again.

•   •   •

I got to Riverarts at about five minutes to ten on Monday morning. I carried the coffee cake up to Maggie’s top-floor studio. She was standing in front of a large piece of particleboard propped on her easel. I tapped on the open door. “Good morning,” I said.

She turned around. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “Is it ten already?”

I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

She rolled her eyes. “That means I’ve been standing here staring at this for the last twenty minutes and I’m still no closer to figuring out what color I want to use on the background.”

“What are you working on?” I asked.

The piece of wood was at least two feet wide by three feet high.

“It’s a collage for Riverwatch, all things I found washed up on shore. They’re starting a public information campaign to make people aware of what’s ending up in the water.” She moved over to her sink and reached for the kettle. “And you wouldn’t believe what ends up in the water.”

“I hope it helps,” I said.

“Me too,” she said. “Sometimes it’s easier if people see what goes into the river instead of just hearing about it.”

She filled the kettle and plugged it in. I set my cake keeper on the counter. I knew Maggie had plates and forks, but I’d brought napkins.

She picked one up. “I like these,” she said with a grin. The design was cartoon cats on a dark blue background. “That one looks like Owen,” she said, pointing to a cat in the upper left corner. “Where did you get these?”

“My mother found them somewhere,” I said. “She thought that cat looked like Owen and the one just to the right of the middle could be Hercules.”

Maggie squinted at the paper square. “She’s right,” she said. “I forgot to tell you, she e-mailed me on Friday.”

I took off my heavy sweater and draped it over one of the stools at the work island in the middle of the room.

“My mother e-mailed you?”

Maggie nodded. “You know that she’s taking one of her classes to New York for a theater weekend.”

I nodded.

“She said she’s going to join the crowd outside the
Today
show and see if she can get Matt Lauer’s autograph for me.” Maggie’s blue eyes were sparkling.

“If anyone can do it, my mother can,” I said.

Ruby poked her head around the doorway then. “Are we having cake?” she asked. Her hair was mint green with a black streak at the front.

“Rhubarb streusel coffee cake,” I said, grinning at her.

“Is Rena around?” Maggie asked.

“She’s downstairs,” Ruby said. “I saw her about fifteen minutes ago. You want me to ask her to join us?”

Maggie nodded. “I’ve been wanting to ask her about maybe doing a workshop when we get the new space finished at the shop.”

“Be right back,” Ruby said.

Maggie gave me a look and then went to get plates and forks from her storage cabinet. “Tea or hot chocolate?” she asked.

“Hot chocolate, please,” I said. Despite Maggie’s efforts, I wasn’t a big fan of herbal tea, but I liked cocoa almost as much as coffee.

Rena Adler paused in the doorway of the studio when Ruby returned with her. “Are you sure I’m not intruding on anything?” she asked. She was wearing gray yoga pants with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail.

“You’re not intruding on anything,” Maggie said. “Kathleen brought coffee cake.”

I turned from where I was slicing the cake and smiled. “Hi, Rena,” I said.

“Hi, Kathleen,” she said.

“Tea or cocoa?” Maggie asked.

“Cocoa, if it’s not too much trouble,” Rena said.

Ruby was already perched on a stool at the center workspace. “Hey, Kathleen, when is the library going to reopen?” she asked.

“It looks like the end of the week,” I said, handing her a piece of cake.

Rena took the seat beside her and I gave her the other plate I was holding.

“Does Marcus have any leads?” Maggie asked as she brought mugs to the table. She gave Rena a sideways glance. “Kathleen’s boyfriend is a detective.”

I turned to pick up the other two plates. “Nothing he’s telling me about,” I said.

“What happens to the rest of the artwork?” Rena asked. She ate a forkful of cake and then smiled. “Oh, Kathleen, this is good!”

“Thank you,” I said. I reached for the container of marshmallows Maggie had set in the middle of the table and dropped two into my cup. “The artwork is all going back to the museum. The rest of the stops for the exhibit have been called off.”

“That bites,” Ruby said around a mouthful of cake.

“It does,” I agreed. “And I’m sorry you all lost your chance to have your work be part of the exhibit here at the library.”

Maggie smiled over the top of her tea. “It just wasn’t meant to be. Something else will come along.”

“Hey, Kathleen, any chance we could put together an exhibit of local art at the library, maybe this summer?” Ruby asked. “I know it wouldn’t pull in as many people as the museum artwork would have, but there are a lot of tourists in town then.”

“I’ll have to run it by the board, but I like the idea,” I said. “Would you be willing to put together something in writing that I can take to them?”

Ruby shrugged. “Sure.” She looked at Maggie. “That okay?”

“Yes,” Maggie said. “And maybe we could coordinate some workshops at the store. Oren should have everything finished by summer.” She turned to Rena and smiled. “Would you think about coming and doing a workshop in egg tempera?”

Rena nodded. “If I’m in town, absolutely.”

“How did you start working in egg tempera, anyway?” Ruby asked, shifting sideways on her stool to look at Rena.

“I liked the effect,” Rena said, brushing a loose tendril of hair back off her cheek. “I started playing around, but believe it or not, it was actually a weekend workshop that got me hooked.”

“How did you end up in Red Wing?” I asked.

She smiled across the table. “Would you believe I saw a short video about Red Wing online and fell in love with the town?”

Maggie’s mouth was full but she began to nod.

“The man with the springer spaniel?” I said.

Rena nodded.

“That’s Morgan,” Maggie said. “The dog, I mean. Tim, his owner, is a documentary filmmaker. He grew up in Red Wing.”

“Where did you live before Red Wing?” Ruby asked as she speared another piece of cake. I wanted to hug her. She was asking most of the questions I’d been going to ask.

“Pretty much everywhere. My dad designs recycling plants. We’d spend a year or two somewhere and then move on. Living in Red Wing may be the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place.” She looked at the three of us. “What about you? Did you all grow up here?”

“Ruby and I did,” Maggie said. She slid off her stool and headed for the kettle. “Kathleen came here from Boston to supervise renovations at the library.”

“And you fell in love with Mayville Heights,” Rena said.

Ruby looked up from her plate. “More like with a certain police detective.”

I felt my cheeks getting red. “That’s not the only reason I decided to stay,” I said. “I really do like living here. And there’s Owen and Hercules.”

Rena looked confused. “Owen and Hercules?”

“My cats,” I said. “They kind of think they’re people. I don’t think they’d do well in the city.” I looked over at Maggie, who had just put more water in the kettle and plugged it in again. “They’re a bit spoiled.”

“Owen and Hercules are not like other cats,” Maggie said. “They’re very intelligent.”

That was an understatement, I thought.

“Wait a minute,” Rena said, gesturing at Ruby with her fork. “I saw those paintings you did. Were those Kathleen’s cats?”

Ruby grunted a yes because her mouth was full of cake. She swallowed and began to tell Rena about the boys posing for her.

Rena Adler was very good at deflecting any conversation away from herself, I realized. I was even more convinced that she was hiding something. But was I right that she was really Devin Rossi? And even more important, had she killed Margo?

As I listened to her and Ruby talk, with occasional comments added by Maggie, I found myself hoping I was wrong. Rena was funny, kind in her comments about other artists’ work without being fake or cloying. I could see both Maggie and Ruby liked her.

After about another ten minutes or so, Ruby got to her feet and stretched. “I need to get back to work,” she said. She smiled across the table. “Thanks for the cake, Kathleen. And the tea, Maggie.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“I’ll put something together on that art exhibit idea and e-mail it to you if that’s okay?” she said.

I nodded. “That’s good.”

Ruby looked at Maggie. “You’ll be down at the shop this afternoon?”

“I’m meeting Oren there at one o’clock,” she said.

Rena slid off her stool. “I should get back to work as well.” She looked from me to Maggie. “This was fun. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you joined us,” Maggie said. She tipped her head in my direction. “Kathleen makes great brownies, too.”

“Was that a hint?” I teased.

She nodded. “It was.”

Rena smiled at us. “See you later,” she said.

I watched her head down the hall, waving at Ruby as she passed her studio door. I closed Maggie’s door and turned around to discover she’d taken all the cups and plates over to the sink. So much for my plan. I closed my eyes and blew out a breath.

“It’s in a bag on the counter,” Maggie said.

I opened my eyes. “What’s on the counter?”

She turned from the sink. “Rena’s cup. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Something with her fingerprints?” She gestured at the brown paper bag sitting next to the kettle.

“How did you know?” I asked walking over to her.

She turned off the tap. “Did you notice how Rena deflected any questions about herself? When Ruby asked where she’d lived before she moved to Red Wing she didn’t name a place. She said ‘everywhere.’”

I leaned against the wooden cabinet. “I noticed.”

“That’s not the first time she’s done that,” Maggie said, reaching for the small towel she kept on a hook next to the sink. “She did the same thing with Susan one of the times we were at the library.” She dried her hands. “I think she’s hiding something.”

I nodded. “I think you’re right.”

Maggie raked a hand through her blonde curls. “She didn’t kill Margo Walsh.”

“I like her too, Mags,” I said, gently.

“I’m not saying that just because I like her. She doesn’t give off that kind of energy.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying she’s not keeping secrets, because it’s pretty obvious she is. I just don’t think killing Margo is one of them.”

I looked over at the paper bag. “I hope you’re right.”

I left Riverarts and walked over to Eric’s. I’d left the truck in the library parking lot. It was too early for lunch, but a large cup of coffee sounded pretty good.

Nic Sutton was working. “Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “What can I get you?”

“Two large coffees to go,” I said.