by Sofie Kelly
“No, he won’t.” I leaned forward and put my left hand, on its edge, next to the bite of egg, which had to be pretty soggy by now. Hercules hesitated, then lifted the paw and I managed to wipe it with the napkin in my other hand. He turned it over, licked it a couple of times for good measure and then dropped his head to finally eat the scrap of scrambled egg.
I tried to sit up again but my center of gravity was off. I flailed one arm in the air and then I felt Marcus’s hands on my shoulders pulling me upright.
“Thank you,” I said, kissing his mouth and only getting about half of it because I was still slightly off balance.
“You’re welcome,” he said. He got up for the coffeepot.
“You haven’t said what happened last night,” I said, reaching for my sandwich.
Marcus shrugged. “It was just more of the same, the same questions I’ve answered three times now. What kind of a relationship did Dani and I have? Did we stay in touch? What did we talk about the day she died? What did we argue about?” He pulled his hand back through his hair. “I’ve done the same thing myself but only when I had a viable suspect—which I’m not in this case.”
“What did Brady say?”
“He thinks it was a fishing expedition. Right now all they have is what looks to be part of my key chain under her body and a so-called gap in my alibi.” He set down his fork. “There have to be thousands of those key chains out there.”
“Twenty-one thousand, five hundred,” I said around a mouthful of bacon, egg and tomato-soaked toast.
He laughed. “I should have known you’d know that.”
I reached for my coffee. “Would it bother you if I went to talk to Travis and John? They spent more time with Dani in the last few weeks than anyone else. They might know if she’d had any problems with anyone.”
His smile faded and his expression became more guarded. “I’m not sure either one of them will talk to you. Maybe John, but not Travis for sure.”
“But I thought things were better between you two.”
“They were for a while, but as far as Travis is concerned things were good until Dani and I reconnected. He said he knew I didn’t have anything to do with her death but he just couldn’t stand the sight of my face.”
I got up and put my arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry. He’s just saying those things because he’s hurt.” I kissed him and sat back down again. “I keep meaning to ask you: How long did your dad live here when he was a kid?”
“He was about twelve when his family moved here and they were still living here when he left for college at seventeen. I don’t think my grandparents moved until the year after that.”
I took another bite of my sandwich. I could feel two sets of kitty eyes watching my every move even though Marcus had already given both of them a tiny bit of bacon. “He never came back here to live after that?”
Reaching for his coffee, Marcus shook his head. “No. We came here in the summer for a lot of years when I was a kid. If you go past the marina and stay on Main Street there are half a dozen little houses near the water.”
“I know where you mean.”
“You could rent those in the summertime back then. That’s where we’d stay. Always in the very last one.” He smiled at the memory. “There were two little bedrooms under the eaves with a shared closet between them. Hannah and I would open our closet doors and we could lie in bed and talk to each other.”
He got up for more coffee, refilling my cup before he topped up his own. “We’d come for three weeks. My father would take the middle week off but at some point he’d have to go back to the office, maybe for the day, maybe for the rest of the week. It never changed.”
I ate the last bite of my sandwich and then pulled up both feet so I could rest my chin on my knees. “Did you ever actually consider going to law school?”
His mouth twisted to one side for a moment. “Yes,” he said.
“So what happened?”
“I told you that he wanted me to go to law school and go into practice with him and I didn’t want to.”
I nodded.
“I didn’t tell you why.”
I reached for my coffee. “So tell me now,” I said.
“I took Business Ethics and Leadership in my third year. The professor had started offering these workshops on financial literacy for student athletes—on his own time, for nothing; he wasn’t making a cent. I volunteered to help, and before you tell me what a great guy that makes me, I got extra credit for it.”
“Okay.”
Again Marcus smiled at something he’d remembered. “A prosecutor from the district attorney’s office came and talked about get-rich-quick investments that people who suddenly have a lot of money can get caught up in. After, we went out for a beer. I talked to the guy for two hours about what he did.”
I smiled across the table at him. “You were hooked.”
Marcus nodded. “I was twenty-one. Putting the bad guys behind bars seemed like a pretty great way to make a living.”
“You dad didn’t agree.”
“No, he didn’t.” He turned his mug in slow circles on the table. “He told me I could work in the prosecutor’s office for a year. I could make connections that would help when I joined him. I didn’t want to make connections. I wanted to make the world a better place and, yes, I know how idealistic that sounds.”
“Idealism isn’t bad,” I said.
Marcus gave me a wry smile. “Tell that to my father. I knew if I went into law I’d always be Elliot Gordon’s son—never my own man. So I decided to be a police officer. He took it as a personal slight. The Christmas after I graduated from the police academy he gave me a study kit for the LSATs. He said I was wasting my potential.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
“You know what’s funny?” He leaned down to give each cat a couple of fish-shaped treats that he must have palmed when he got up for more coffee.
“What?”
“In a way I owe my father. If he hadn’t reacted the way he did over me wanting to work in the DA’s office I probably never would have become a police officer, and I think I’m better at that than I would have been as a lawyer.”
I smiled. “I think you would have been a good lawyer. I think you would have been good at anything you set your mind to.”
“And you’re not biased,” he teased.
“I’m not,” I said with mock seriousness. “I’m just looking at the facts the way any good reference librarian would.”
Marcus laughed.
“You know what else is funny?” I asked. “The fact that you didn’t even try to hide what you were doing.” I tipped my head in the direction of the boys, who were both happily eating.
“A little treat isn’t going to hurt them.” Owen lifted his head, looked at me and gave a sharp meow as if to say, “What he said.”
“No, but Roma might if she finds out how often you give them a little treat. She swings a mean broom.”
Marcus shook his head at me. “I want a rematch. I still say Roma cheated.”
He was referring to a broom hockey match to benefit the animal shelter that both he and Roma had played in during last year’s Winterfest. Marcus had captained one team and Brady Chapman the other. Roma—who was on Brady’s team—had swept in the winning goal and managed to trip Marcus with the other end of her broom in the last seconds of the game.
“Roma did not cheat,” I said, getting up to take my dishes to the sink. “Your legs are too long for broom hockey.”
He reached out and snagged me with one arm, pulling me down onto his lap. “My legs are too long?” he said. “Really? And what else is wrong with me?”
I frowned and pretended to think about it. “Your shoulders are too broad,” I said, putting both hands on them. “Your hair is too thick.” I reached up wit
h one hand and pulled my fingers through his dark waves. “And your lips are too kissy.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Umm, I can see that you’re suffering,” he said.
A loud meow came from the floor at our feet. “You don’t need any more treats,” I said.
Owen—because it had been him voicing his opinion—meowed again. “Let me rephrase. You’re not getting any more treats.” I kissed Marcus one more time. “You neither. I need to get ready for work.” I stood up and set my dishes on the counter. “Are you going to help Eddie this morning?” I asked.
Marcus got to his feet as well. “I’m going to go see my father. Maybe I can convince him to go home.”
“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t think it was likely. “In his defense I think he really does want to help.”
Marcus pulled a hand back through his hair. “He can’t seem to understand that I don’t always want that help. It’s hard to get out of the man’s shadow, because he casts such a big one.”
10
About five minutes after Marcus left Abigail called. “I found a great glow-in-the-dark skeleton I thought we could hang in the gazebo for Spookarama. Do you want me to bring it with me?”
“Please,” I said. We talked for a minute about how we were going to handle handing out treats during the Halloween party and then I said good-bye and headed upstairs to change.
The first thing I did when I got to the library was call Lita. I had no idea what time she got to work, but no matter how early I called the office she was always in.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” she said. “I’m glad you called. I heard Marcus was invited to the police station to answer some questions. How is he?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “But, uh, that’s why I called.” I paused and took a deep breath. “I need a favor and it’s for him in a way.”
“Everett instructed me over a week ago to make sure anything Marcus needs he gets, which I would have done anyway.” I could feel her smile coming through the phone. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Ernie Kingsley was at a meeting the day Danielle McAllister was killed. I need to know everything about it. How many people were there? Could Ernie have gotten there late? Did he leave early? Who saw him?”
“In other words you want to know how much of an alibi his alibi really is?”
I turned slowly from side to side in my chair. “I’m not saying he killed her, not deliberately. I just want to be one hundred percent certain he’s not involved.”
“Give me a couple of hours,” Lita said. “I’ll call you back. I know Ernie’s assistant, Nora. He’s here today to give his pitch to the business coalition, so she’ll have a minute to talk.”
I hung up and leaned back in the chair. There was a squeak somewhere in the back mechanism. I sat for a minute, making it squeak like the floor in a horror-movie haunted house while I organized my thoughts.
Whatever Marcus said to his father—which he was probably saying right now—I didn’t think the elder Gordon was going to leave town. But I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, or if I should. I was already having reservations about Hope. I needed to know more about Elliot Gordon, at least as a lawyer if not a person. I knew I couldn’t call Marcus’s sister, Hannah. He didn’t want her to know what had happened, not yet.
I wondered if Brady knew anything about Elliot. I’d noticed that the older man had seemed to recognize the younger’s name when Marcus had called him at the restaurant. I’d already asked for one favor. Maybe I’d get lucky with a second.
The phone rang several times before Maggie answered. “Hi, Mags,” I said.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you at home or the library?”
“Library.”
“Good. How about coming for pizza tonight? I feel like cooking.”
Marcus and I hadn’t made any plans because normally I was at tai chi on Thursday night, but class had been canceled again because now Oren was painting the stairwell up to the studio. As far as I knew Marcus would be at Eddie’s.
“I’d like that,” I said, shifting my weight sideways in the chair so the squeak would stop. “Any chance Brady will be there?”
“Do you want him to be there?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little hollow.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Your voice sounds odd.”
“Downward Dog. So what about Brady?”
“Marcus’s father showed up last night. I just wondered . . . I just wondered if Brady knows anything about him, what he’s like as an attorney.”
“Somehow I think he does,” Maggie said. “I’ll ask him if he can join us.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Is there anything you want me to bring?”
“Just yourself.”
* * *
Lita called me back about eleven thirty. “Phone, Kathleen,” Susan said, holding up two fingers.
I nodded to show I’d heard her and pointed over my head as I headed for the stairs so she’d know I’d take the call in my office.
“I’m sorry this took so long,” Lita said. “I had to wait for one person to call me back.”
“I’m impressed you managed to find out anything this fast,” I said, sitting on a corner of my desk.
“Well what I found out was that there were fifty-two people at that meeting in Red Wing. It was at the Anderson Center. They didn’t finish until after eight thirty. I talked to five different people. They all saw Ernie.”
So Kingsley couldn’t have had anything to do with Dani’s death. According to Hope the medical examiner estimated she’d been killed between five and eight.
“Thanks, Lita,” I said. “It was a long shot anyway.”
“I wasn’t finished,” she said.
The hairs rose on the back of my neck. “Okay,” I said slowly.
“Every one of those five people remember seeing Ernie because he was late getting to the meeting. He seemed a little jumpy and disheveled.”
“Did anyone happen to notice what time he walked in?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact two different people did. It was ten after six,” Lita said, a self-satisfied edge to her voice. “Does that help?”
Ten after six. Given the approximate distance from the lake to Red Wing, even if he’d stuck to back roads, Ernie Kingsley would have had enough time to kill Dani and make his meeting at just about the time he walked in.
My heart started to race. “Yes, it does,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
“Any time,” Lita said. I could tell from her voice that she was smiling on the other end of the phone. “If you need anything else, anything—”
“I’ll call you,” I finished.
I hung up the phone. So now what? I couldn’t just walk up to the developer and ask him if he killed Dani. What had Lita said earlier? “He’s here today to give his pitch to the business coalition.” I leaned back and pulled a stack of papers on the side of my desk a little closer. What I was looking for was a press release from the town. It was third in the pile, an invitation to a presentation by developer Ernie Kingsley on the proposed Long Lake development. The pitch was aimed at the downtown business community. All stakeholders were urged to attend. When she’d read the word “stakeholders” Ruby had threatened to show up in a black cape with a hawthorn stake and a garlic necklace.
It occurred to me that maybe I could show up as well in my role as head librarian. I could talk to Kingsley and at least see how he responded when I brought up Dani’s death. I decided not to call Hope or Elliot. I didn’t want the developer to know what I suspected and I didn’t think either one of them could be subtle.
I went back downstairs to talk to Susan. “Do you mind if I take the early lunch?” I asked. “I thought I’d head over to the presentation about the development. If it really is going to bring more money to town I’d like to get a little of it for the library.”
“Sounds good to me,” Susan said.
* * *
I found a parking spot on the street just one block up from the community center. Thorsten was at the door.
“Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “You here for the dog and pony show?”
I smiled. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors. I thought it would be a good idea to get the facts.”
He gave a snort of derision. “Don’t think you’re in the right place for that.”
I walked around smiling and saying hello while I looked for Ernie Kingsley. There were a lot more people in the small room than I’d expected and it was hard to see over everyone’s heads. I stood just to the side of the door to the hallway and looked around. I caught sight of Ruby near the middle of the room, no cape, stake or fragrant necklace in sight. And then I caught a glimpse of Ernie Kingsley just coming in the door on the other side of the room. I took two steps in his direction and I was grabbed from behind. A dark-suited arm wrapped around me and pulled me into the hall.
I jammed my elbow back hard, making very satisfying contact with the person’s diaphragm. He—I knew by the strength in the arm it was a man who had grabbed me—let go. I whirled around, mouth open to scream, and discovered Simon Janes half doubled over, trying to get his breath. “What did you do that for?” he managed to gasp out.
I stared at him wide-eyed and more than a little aggravated. “What did I do that for?” I gestured at the door with one hand. “What did you do that for?”
Simon straightened up. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. “What exactly were you going to do once you were face-to-face with Ernie?” he asked.
“None of your business,” I retorted.
“I can pick you up and have you in the parking lot in less than a minute,” Simon said, straightening one sleeve of his suit jacket.
I made a fist, folded my arm and held up my elbow. “I can hit a lot harder than I just did. And I can scream loud enough to be heard in the back row of the Stratton Theatre—from here.”
“He won’t tell you anything,” Simon said flatly.
“I wasn’t going to walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, did you kill a woman out at Long Lake?’”