Magical Cats Mystery 13 - Hooked on a Feline

by Sofie Kelly

  * * *

  It was the perfect night for walking, warm but not overwhelmingly hot. When I got to the studio, I discovered that the stairwell and the area where we hung up our things and changed our shoes had gotten a fresh coat of paint. The clean, bright white walls made the space seem a little larger.

  Maggie was inside, standing by the window with a mug of tea. I walked over to join her.

  “The entry looks great,” I said.

  She smiled. “I can’t believe what a difference just a coat of paint makes. I didn’t realize how dingy the walls looked until the painters started working.”

  “Who did the work? I know you couldn’t have used Oren because he’s out of town.” Oren Kenyon was a very talented carpenter and a meticulous painter. He was away for a few days supervising the installation of several pieces of his father’s artwork in a gallery in Madison.

  “It’s a company run by a bunch of students just for the summer,” Maggie said. “And it was actually Oren who suggested them, so that was enough of a recommendation for me. And you’ll never guess who one of the painters turned out to be? Zach Redmond.”

  Zach had been bartending at The Brick, a club up on the highway. He was one of Maggie’s yoga students and I’d met him when my brother and his band had visited and we’d gone to the club to listen to a group Ethan had wanted to check out. Zach wore his thick dark hair in a man bun most of the time. He had dark skin and beautiful blue eyes.

  “I thought he’d gone back to school,” I said.

  She took a sip of her tea. It smelled like marmalade. “He’s still working on his degree and he’s doing some shifts at The Brick and painting during the day.”

  Zach was still trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. I remembered how Maggie had described him to me: “He’s like a big untrained puppy. Sometimes you have to smack him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.”

  Maggie smiled. “You know how Zach has always lacked, well, focus?”

  I nodded.

  “I overheard him talking to the young woman he was working with, warning her about drinking too much, staying out late and borrowing stuff from her grandmother without asking.”

  “Sound like he’s maturing,” I said.

  Roma joined us then. Her dark hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail and she was wearing a sea green sleeveless T-shirt and cropped gray leggings. “We match,” she said, holding out the hem of her shirt. My top was just a slightly darker version of the shade of green she was wearing.

  “Truthfully, Owen picked it out,” I said.

  “Hey, you have a fashion consultant. That’s great,” she said, grinning and bumping me with her shoulder. “I was going through photos Eddie took at the concert and there are some good ones of you and Marcus. First chance I get this week, I’ll send them and some of the others to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t think about taking pictures and now I wish I had.”

  “You’re welcome. Eddie loves any chance to use that fancy camera. Ruby has been giving him some tips.”

  Ruby Blackthorne, a very talented artist and photographer, was a member of the local artists’ co-op.

  “I need to go speak to Rebecca,” Roma said. “Eddie got a beautiful shot of her and Everett dancing.”

  As though saying her name had suddenly conjured her out of thin air, Ruby appeared in the doorway. She crossed the room and joined us.

  “I have something to show you,” she said, a huge smile lighting up her face.

  “Is it the new calendar?” I asked.

  Ruby had taken some photos of Owen and Hercules, and that had morphed into a very successful promotional calendar for the town. So successful that now there was a second one, once again featuring the boys at various locations around town.

  Ruby nodded and held out the large envelope she was holding. “Take a look.”

  The calendar’s cover photo was Owen and Hercules on the deck of a sailboat. I remembered that shoot. Owen had shown no trepidation about getting on the boat but Hercules had been very reluctant. Given his intense dislike of wet feet, that hadn’t surprised me. Ruby had shamelessly bribed him with a dish of chopped roast beef.

  Maggie and I flipped through the calendar pages. “Oh, I like this one!” I exclaimed about the photo that had been taken of the boys in the same spot we were standing. Owen was on his back legs with his front paws on the window ledge. Hercules was sitting on the ledge, one paw in the air almost as though he was working on his tai chi form.

  “Look, Owen’s doing Cloud Hands,” Maggie teased. “He’s good, too.” Cloud Hands was one of the 108 movements of the form that still gave me grief.

  I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed. Then she bent her head over the calendar again.

  “I like the lighting in this one,” she said to Ruby. “You’ve done an incredible job.”

  I nodded my agreement. “I didn’t think it was possible, but this one is even better than the first calendar.”

  Ruby’s cheeks flushed at the compliments. “You can keep that one and take it home for Owen and Hercules to see.”

  “Thank you,” I said, slipping the calendar back inside the envelope.

  “I’m going to get a cup of tea,” Ruby said. “I’m glad you like the calendar.”

  Maggie took another sip of her own tea while stretching one arm over her head. “How was your day?” she asked. Maggie was the kind of person who was genuinely interested when she asked a question like that.

  “Johnny Rock came in to make a donation in Mike’s memory to our computer fund,” I said. “It put us over the top.”

  “I think that’s a great memorial for Mike.”

  “It is. There are a lot of people who depend on us for Internet access and just for the chance to even use a computer. I’m happy that now we have the money to replace all the old ones.”

  “But you wish it wasn’t because Mike’s dead.” She switched arms, stretching her left one now.

  “Exactly,” I said. “He called the old ones boat anchors, which isn’t far from the truth.”

  “So he’d be happy you’re getting new ones.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. “I think so, yes.”

  “So you should be happy, too.”

  “What would I do without you?” I said.

  “You’d never master Cloud Hands, you and Marcus would not be a couple and you’d let your cat pick out your clothes all the time,” she teased.

  I wrapped her in a hug. “Then lucky for me that I came to Mayville Heights.”

  “Lucky for me, too,” Maggie said.

  It was almost time to begin. Maggie and I walked over to the tea table.

  “Has anyone from Mike Bishop’s office called you?” she asked.

  I frowned at her. “No. Why would they be calling?”

  Maggie ran a hand over her blond curls. “Well, I heard from them because I had an appointment coming up and Caroline wanted to let me know what my options are.”

  Caroline was Mike Bishop’s office manager. She was someone I should talk to, I realized.

  “They’re going to call every patient at some point to see what people want to do with their records.” She set her cup on the table. “Has Marcus has come up with anything yet?”

  I sighed softly. “No.”

  “Have you?”

  There wasn’t any point in denying that I was asking questions about Mike’s death. I shook my head. “No.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Maggie said, giving my arm a squeeze as she moved to the center of the room. She clapped her hands and called, “Circle, everyone.”

  I darted out to put the calendar in my bag. Then I moved into my usual spot next to Roma and it struck me that I didn’t know if Maggie had been referring to both Marcus and me when she’d said, “You’ll figure it out,” or if she’d just meant me.

  When we finished the form at the end of the class, I was surprised to see Marcus waiting by the door. He
walked over to me. “Can I lure you out for frozen yogurt at Tubby’s?” he asked. “Or do you need to get home?”

  I smiled. “I can always find time for Tubby’s,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. He turned to Maggie. “Brady showed me your design ideas for the T-shirts for the girls’ hockey team. I don’t know how we’re going to pick just one.”

  “It was fun working on them,” Maggie said. “And it wasn’t just me. Kathleen and Owen both offered their input.”

  Marcus smiled. “I’ll make sure both of them are rewarded.”

  I changed my shoes and we headed down the stairs.

  “Where did you park?” Marcus asked as we stepped outside. “I didn’t see the truck anywhere.”

  “I walked,” I said. “It was such a nice evening and I spent a lot of time sitting today. I wanted to stretch my legs.”

  His SUV was parked just ahead. “That works out perfectly. We can drive over to Tubby’s for yogurt and find a place to enjoy it along the Riverwalk. I’ll take you home after that.”

  I recognized his matter-of-fact tone. He was in detective mode.

  We got to the car, and before I got inside, I stopped, resting one hand on the roof. “Marcus, I’m always happy to see you and I’m always up for frozen yogurt, but I know you’re here for more than that. So please tell me what’s up.”

  He looked at the keys in his hand for a moment; then he looked over the roof of the car at me. “I need you to tell me all about Leitha Anderson’s visit to the library on the day she died.”

  My heart began to thump in my ears. “Did you actually find a connection between her death and Mike’s?”

  He thought for a moment. “Can we just get in, please?” he said.

  We both climbed into the SUV and I turned to face him before I even fastened my seat belt. “What’s going on?” I said. “Is Leitha’s accident connected to Mike’s death?”

  He stuck the key in the ignition without saying anything, then looked at me. “At this point I can’t be sure, but I have reason to believe Leitha Anderson’s death wasn’t so accidental after all.”

  chapter 9

  I stared at him, wondering if I’d heard him right. “I don’t understand,” I said. “Leitha had a heart attack. Her car went off the road. Everyone agreed it was an accident.”

  Marcus did his hand-hair thing. He looked tired. There was dark stubble on his face and lines pulled at his mouth. “I know, but I couldn’t let go of the idea that something was off about her death, so I went back through the file on the accident and I noticed that Leitha had been involved in a study on heart disease and longevity.”

  I nodded. “I know. Mike told me that Leitha was the only person in two generations of their family to live into her nineties.”

  “It was a long shot, but I contacted one of the doctors who is involved in that study and I sent him a copy of the medical examiner’s report. He called me back less than an hour later and he told me that he had concerns over the levels of potassium chloride in blood samples taken at Leitha’s autopsy. According to the doctor, she had used a salt substitute in the past that contained potassium, but not enough to explain the levels found in her blood in his opinion. And as far as he knew, she hadn’t been using that substitute anymore.”

  “If those levels were too high, they could have caused an irregular heart beat and heart failure.”

  “Exactly,” Marcus said.

  He fastened his seat belt and started the SUV and we drove over to Tubby’s. I got strawberry frozen yogurt. Marcus chose orange cream. We walked along the Riverwalk and sat down on the second bench we saw with our cups of frozen yogurt.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  “I’m thinking that I’ve always felt bad about Leitha’s death,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “She came to the library for the presentation about the history of Mayville Heights that Mary was giving.”

  The talks on the history of this part of the state had turned out to be extremely popular. All of them had been well attended.

  “And she and Mary ended up having a very loud and very public argument about the early settlement of the town,” Marcus said.

  I nodded. “Yes.” My chest tightened at the memory of their raised voices, particularly the disdain in Leitha’s tone. “I had to step in to put a stop to it.”

  I remembered how Leitha had given Mary her steely gaze and said, “Breeding will tell.”

  Mary had met the other woman’s stare with an equally undaunted look and said, “Yes, it certainly will.”

  I licked a bit of frozen yogurt off my thumb. “Some people found Leitha to be too blunt and abrasive and they liked seeing Mary stand up to her. I know Mary was sorry for making a scene. She apologized immediately and she came out to the house that night to apologize again.

  I had been surprised to see a somber-looking Mary at my door. “May I come in?” she’d asked.

  “Of course,” I’d said.

  “I know I told you this afternoon how sorry I am for getting into an argument with Leitha and making a scene at the library. It was petty and childish of me,” she’d said as she stood in the middle of the porch.

  “But understandable. Leitha is a challenging person.”

  “I want you to know that something like that will never happen again. I give you my word. And I’m sorry that I put you in a difficult situation.”

  “I appreciate that,” I’d said. “I don’t understand what happened? What made you so angry?”

  Mary had looked at the floor for a moment; then her eyes met mine. “Leitha was going on about the Finnamores being among the first settlers in this area. The fact of the matter is it was Ruby’s family—the Blackthornes—not the Finnamores who first settled this area. And Keith King’s family and Lita’s have been here almost as long. I reminded Leitha of that and that the town was actually built where there had been an earlier indigenous settlement.” There was a flush of color in her cheeks. This was obviously something she felt strongly about. “You know about Ruby’s indigenous ancestry, I’m guessing.”

  “I do,” I’d said.

  “In fact Ruby’s family was here a couple of generations before the Finnamores, or anyone else for that matter. Leitha was dismissive as though they weren’t important because they didn’t come over on the Mayflower. So I got my knickers in a knot. I should have known it was a waste of time, trying to talk to that woman.” Her cheeks got a little pinker and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I was wrong for calling Leitha an old bat.”

  I’d nodded. “It didn’t help.”

  “And I will apologize to her for that,” Mary had said.

  “Of course she didn’t get the chance,” I said to Marcus. “She felt bad that maybe their argument had contributed to Leitha’s heart attack, which then led to the accident. Leitha was very angry when she left the library. I think Mary still feels a little guilty.”

  “I can see why she would,” he said. “Do you want some of my frozen yogurt?”

  “Maybe just a taste,” I said.

  He held out the cup and I scooped out a spoonful. The orange cream flavor was tart and rich all at the same time. “Oh, that’s good,” I said. “I’m getting that next time.” I offered my own cup. “Would you like to try mine?”

  He smiled. “Kathleen, you ate it all,” he said.

  I tipped up the container to take a look. It was empty. How had that happened?

  “Was Mary’s talk like the previous ones?” Marcus asked. “Did you offer tea and coffee again?”

  “Yes, we did,” I said. “Oh, and there were maple cookies from Eric’s.”

  “Did you see Leitha eat a cookie or drink a cup of tea or coffee?”

  “You don’t think she was poisoned, do you?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said. “Did you see her eat or drink anything?”

  I tried to picture the aftermath of Mary’s talk. People had been milling around, getting tea or
coffee, talking. More than one person had commented on the cookies.

  “Mary offered a cookie to Leitha,” I said.

  His blue eyes narrowed. “Offered or gave?”

  “Mary would not poison Leitha or anyone else. You know Mary. You have to know that.”

  “I didn’t say she did.” He waited.

  “Offered,” I said firmly. “I remember that she was holding the tray.” I set my empty yogurt cup on the bench. “You can’t possibly think that Mary killed Leitha—that Mary planned to kill Leitha—because it’s not like she would have had potassium chloride in the pocket of her sweater.”

  Marcus held up one hand. “I don’t believe Mary killed Leitha. I don’t believe she would kill anyone—give them a stern talking-to, yes, or in a worst-case scenario maybe drop-kick them across the room, but I don’t see her resorting to murder.”

  I tapped my spoon against my bottom lip. “When would Leitha have to have ingested the potassium chloride for it to have caused her heart attack?”

  “The doctor thinks it would have to have been in her system about an hour before the heart attack that caused her to go off the road.”

  “So at the library,” I said.

  “It’s possible that Leitha had pills on her and took too many by mistake, but I can’t find any reference to any kind of medication in any police reports and she hadn’t been prescribed potassium chloride by her doctor.”

  “I didn’t see her take anything.”

  “But you weren’t watching her all the time.”

  I shook my head. “No. There was a lot going on.” I looked out over the water for a moment. “Marcus, do you think it’s possible that Leitha committed suicide?” I asked.

  Marcus stretched one arm along the top of the bench. “I admit that did occur to me, but it doesn’t make sense. She was in good physical health, especially for her age and her mind was sharp. I checked with her doctor and the doctor running the study—she had no cognitive issues at all. No one who knew Leitha said anything about her seeming depressed. She had plans made several months ahead. Nothing suggests suicide.”

  “So what happens now?” I asked.