Sleight of Paw (13 page)

“I hope that’s a long time,” I said.

“Me, too,” Harry said. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

I waited without saying anything myself. Harry would get to whatever it was in his own time.

“Are you headed for the library?” he asked as we got to the bottom of the hill.

“I’m going over to Eric’s to get something for lunch,” I said. “But here is fine. Anywhere is fine.”

“I’m going to the bookstore.” Harry put on his turn signal. “It’s only one door down.”

“Okay,” I said. The truck was so cozy and warm that I was happy to stay in my seat for a few more blocks.

“Have you heard anything about Agatha Shepherd’s death?” Harry asked.

I looked at him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the road. His tone was almost too offhand. It occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t just chance that Harry had been driving by just as I was walking downtown. “I was at Wisteria Hill this morning with Detective Gordon,” I said. “He said the autopsy was this morning. That’s it.”

Harry sighed. “Kathleen, I’m worried about the old man.”

I could see the tightness in his face. “They were friends.”

“They were,” Harry said quietly. We were at a stop sign with no other cars behind us. He turned to me. “They stopped speaking a long time ago.”

I struggled for a moment. I didn’t want to break the old man’s confidence, but it was clear Harry knew something had happened to his father and Agatha’s friendship. “He said they had a falling-out,” I said finally.

Harry nodded. “He likes you,” he said, turning down toward the water.

“I like him.”

He pulled into an empty parking spot just a couple of spaces down from the café and put the truck in park, but stared out through the windshield for a moment before he said anything more. “Kathleen, he had some kind of argument with Agatha the other night, didn’t he?”

I undid my seat belt to delay answering his question for a moment. “They had a conversation about something. It was very short. Your father was upset, although he tried to hide it. How did you know?”

He held out his hand, turned it over and studied his palm before he answered. “He wasn’t himself, even before he heard about Agatha. And Detective Gordon came to talk to him last night.” He let out a breath.

“Dad wouldn’t tell me what the detective wanted, but he said something about saying things in anger that you can’t take back. I figured it had to be Agatha. It was pretty clear you two hadn’t argued about anything.”

I reached over and touched his arm. “Whatever they were discussing had nothing to do with her death.” I gestured to the café with my free hand. “She had a disagreement with Eric right before she saw your father. People argue, Harry. It doesn’t always mean anything.”

He pulled a hand across the bottom of his face. “He swiped one of my old trucks and drove himself down. Said he changed his mind and wanted to see what was happening at the auction. He scraped the front fender on something, I think when he was parking. At least he had enough sense to call me from Eric’s.”

I could suddenly hear my own heartbeat in my ears. Harry Senior was driving Wednesday night. “I didn’t know that,” I said slowly. “But it doesn’t mean he came looking for Agatha.”

“Dad has been having these episodes, times when he can’t remember where he was or what he was doing.” Harry swept his hand over his face again.

“The doctors don’t know if they’re small strokes, some kind of seizure disorder or even a brain tumor.” He shook his head. “Stubborn old coot refuses to go through more tests.”

He stared through the windshield. “Kathleen, he had one of those gaps the other night. He hasn’t admitted it, but I’ve gotten so I can pretty much tell when it happens.”

No. I wasn’t going there. Whatever had happened to Agatha, Harry Senior had had nothing to do with it. What had Harry just said?
At least he’d had the good sense to call me from Eric’s.
I’d walked the old man to the café, and Harry had picked him up there. Agatha had been fine when she’d walked away.

“Harry, Agatha was fine when your father left her,” I said. “I saw her head along the sidewalk. And I walked him to Eric’s, where you picked him up. I understand that you’re worried, but I don’t think you need to be.”

He looked relieved. “Thanks.”

I reached for the door handle with one hand and my bag with the other and got out of the truck, stepping up over the ridge of snow on the sidewalk. I raised my hand in good-bye, heading up the short stretch of sidewalk to the café.

Harry Senior had been driving the night Agatha died. But I’d walked him here and Harry had picked him up here. Had he stayed here? I closed my eyes for a second. In my mind I could see the blood soaking the plaid coat, and Agatha’s arm bent at an unnatural angle. I could see Marcus pulling the shard of glass from my pants cuff. Glass I was pretty sure came from a headlight.

The old man had scraped the fender of the truck on something, Harry had said. My heart started pounding in my chest again.

Something?

Or someone?

C
laire was behind the counter inside the restaurant. It was too early for the lunch crowd.

“Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “What can I get you?”

“Sandwich, I think,” I said.

“For here or to go?”

I was tempted to stay and eat, but I needed to get some things done if I was going to get away and help Maggie later. “To go,” I said, pulling off my mittens.

She thought for a second. “All right. How about turkey and Swiss with spicy mustard and baby lettuce?”

“That sounds good.”

“Sourdough bread?” she asked.

I took a deep breath. The smell of fresh bread made my mouth water. “Yes.”

Claire put in the order and turned back to me. “What about a cookie?”

I patted the front of my parka. “If I keep eating your cookies more than just this coat is going to be padded.”

“It’s a new recipe,” she said, her tone wheedling. “Whoopie pie. Soft chocolate cookies, creamy, fluffy filling.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” I held up both hands, palms out.

She waited, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“One cookie,” I said, and held up a finger for emphasis. “One.”

Claire headed for the kitchen, a big grin on her face.

“Where’s Eric today?” I asked when she came back with my lunch packed to go in a brown paper bag.

“He’s still having problems with that tooth,” she said, taking the money and counting change from the till.

I grimaced in sympathy as she handed back my change. “I hope he feels better soon.”

“Me, too,” Claire said. “Double shifts are killing me. I’m getting too old for this.”

I smiled, pulling on my mittens again and picking up my food. Claire was maybe twenty-two.

She leaned across the counter and gave me a conspiratorial smile. “Is it true about Dr. Davidson?”

“Is what true?”

“I heard she’s seeing a younger guy, a hockey player. Eddie Sweeney.”

Eddie Sweeney? I couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry. This time the rumors are wrong.”

Claire looked disappointed.

I walked over to the library, noting that the sidewalks had all been sanded and plowed again. Susan was at the front desk. She turned as I walked in. “You’re early,” she said

“I need to get away for about a half hour or so later on,” I said, unwinding my scarf. “So I thought I’d get an early start. Quiet morning?”

She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Her topknot was kind of sideways. That wasn’t like Susan. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick, either, and there were crumbs on the front of her chocolate brown sweater. She looked frazzled and distracted.

“Actually it was fairly busy until about twenty minutes or so ago. Even with Winterfest, I guess people are looking for a good book to curl up with in this weather.” Her eyes kept darting to the phone, and she tried but failed to stifle a yawn.

“Is everything all right?” I asked undoing the button at the neck of my jacket.

“I’m just a bit tired,” she said, but again her eyes slid off me to the phone. “Eric and the boys all have colds, so I’m not getting a lot of sleep. But, hey”—she gave an elaborate shrug—“what can you expect in this weather?”

Her eyes just couldn’t stay on my face. In the almost year I’d known her I’d learned that Susan was a terrible liar and I knew she was lying now. Whatever was happening between her and Eric, she was going to have to work it out in her own way.

“Susan, if you need anything, you only have to ask,” I said quietly.

Her cheeks reddened. “I, uh, thanks,” she mumbled. She gestured to a stack of books behind her. “I should get back to work.”

“I’ll be in my office,” I said, and headed for the stairs.

Upstairs, I hung up my coat and changed into my shoes. Then I went down the hall for a cup of coffee. Roma was on my case because she thought I drank too much coffee. I couldn’t wait to tell her the story that had been spawned from driving around with the Eddie dummy in the front of her SUV. She might not have a love life, but she did have a heck of a rumored love life.

I spent some time in my office, working on the book order and finishing up plans for the spring programs at the library. I worked at the front desk while Mary and Susan had their lunch breaks. Then I took some time to go over the library usage hours.

Library visits were up; so were the numbers of books checked out. I was hoping Everett Henderson and the rest of the library board would be pleased. After all the turmoil associated with the refurbishment of the old building, it made me glad to see that the town was using it.

About two forty-five, I went to the desk. Mary was checking out a man with a stack of books at least ten volumes high.

“Mary, I’m going over to the community center for a while,” I said. “I won’t be any more than an hour, probably less, and I have my cell.”

“Okay,” she said. “You’re coming to the supper tonight?”

“Absolutely.” I zipped my jacket. “I love your pie.”

“That’s because I bake it with love,” she said, trying to look like a sweet, gentle grandma, but not quite getting there with the devilish twinkle in her eye.

“Later,” I said, and headed out.

Maggie was on a ladder when I got to the center, taking down a string of lights I hadn’t noticed fastened to the ceiling. I dropped my coat and mittens on a chair and hurried over to help her.

“Hi. What can I do?”

She frowned at the ceiling. “Hi. How about grabbing the end of the lights before they bang against the side of the ladder and break?”

I caught the end of the cord, holding it away from the ladder while Maggie finished unhooking the string. That was when I noticed the helium-filled pig. It was floating over the tables, wearing a Minnesota Wild hockey jersey and holding a sign that said BITE ME.

“Interesting choice with the pig,” I said.

“Thanks,” Maggie said. “Could you hand me those bulbs, please?”

I draped the lights over a nearby chair and grabbed the package of bulbs she pointed to. I got one out of the box and handed it to her. She screwed it in place, then looked at the adjacent fixture, twisting her mouth to one side in thought. I held up my arm, offering another bulb without speaking.

“Yeah,” she muttered to no one in particular. She twisted the second light into place and nodded with satisfaction. We ended up replacing six bulbs before Maggie was completely happy.

“Thanks,” she said, scrambling down the ladder. “I just want to see how this looks.” She walked over to the door and flipped the light switch.

There was a faint pinkish yellow cast to the light on the locker-room scene. Maggie came back and stood, studying it, with her arms crossed. “What do you think?”

“It looks kind of like those old fluorescent lights. I’m guessing that’s the effect you wanted.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I wanted it to look like a locker room. She frowned suddenly. “Do Eddie’s legs look right to you?”

“Uh-huh. Why?”

She shook her head and started for the dummy. “No,” she said. “His right leg is crooked.”

I watched her twist the dummy’s leg. Even though he was just a mannequin I caught myself cringing in sympathy.

I was still wearing my hat. I pulled it off and shook my head as Rebecca came out of the kitchen. She waved, and I dropped my toque on the chair and went over to her.

“Hello, Kathleen. What are you doing here?” she asked. She was wearing a long white apron tied at the neck and waist and she smelled like cinnamon.

“Just giving Maggie a hand.”

Maggie was on her knees now, doing something to Eddie’s knee that would’ve had him writhing on the floor if he’d been a real person.

“Have you had a chance to look at the photographs?” Rebecca asked, gesturing to the display.

“A little,” I said. “They’re fascinating.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “They take me back.”

Behind her Everett appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing an apron, too. He had a vegetable peeler in one hand and a carrot in the other. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said.

Rebecca turned at the sound of his voice and every bit of her face smiled.

Everett held up the carrot. “This is the last one. I think we need to do another bag.”

“All right,” Rebecca said. “I’ll be right there.” He lifted the peeler in acknowledgment and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I smiled at Rebecca. “The things we do for love.”

Her eyes sparkled and a blush of pink spread across her cheeks. “Isn’t it grand?” she said. She gave my arm a squeeze. “I’ll look for you tonight.”

I watched her go back to the kitchen, hoping I’d be that happy when I reached Rebecca’s age.

The door to the hall pushed open and Ruby came in. She looked around, caught sight of me, and hurried across the floor “Am I late?” she asked, yanking off her gloves.