by Sofie Kelly
I knew Officer Keller, the responding police officer, from Marcus’s past cases. The army vet had the bearing of a former military man and an air of calm competence that was reassuring. I explained what had happened. “The door was open?” he asked.
“It had been pulled to but it wasn’t closed all the way,” I said.
He nodded. “Where are Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Janes’s granddaughter?”
“I sent them upstairs.” I hesitated. “I didn’t want Mia to see . . . everything that’s going to happen.”
He nodded again as if that made sense to him. Then he pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. “Please stay here, Ms. Paulson,” he said.
“All right,” I said. I took a couple of steps back and hugged myself against the damp cold that seemed to be sinking into my bones.
Behind me I heard something and turned to see Marcus in the doorway. “Kathleen,” he said, relief washing over his face. He gave me a quick hug and then pulled back to study me. “What’s happened?”
I gestured at the apartment door. “Leo Janes—Simon’s father—he’s, uh, dead.”
He frowned. “What are you doing here?”
I explained about Rebecca’s parcel and how I’d offered Mia a drive to see her grandfather. “Rebecca came down and let us in. I thought Leo would have heard us talking over there by the stairs. When he didn’t come out of his apartment I just had the feeling that there was something hinky going on.”
Frown lines furrowed his forehead. “How did you get into the apartment? Did Mia have a key?”
“No. The door was open just a crack. I went in because I knew then that . . .” I didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“Are you all right?” he said.
I pulled a hand over the back of my neck. “No, but I’ll manage.”
Officer Keller came to the door then. “Detective,” he said.
I put a hand on Marcus’s arm. He held up a finger to the officer and turned back to me. “Is it all right if I call Simon?” I asked. “Mia needs him. And if he has to hear this over the phone it should at least be from a friend.”
Marcus hesitated and then nodded his agreement. “Go ahead. I can send someone to get him.”
I gave his arm a squeeze and dropped my hand. The whole town knew we were a couple, but I tried not to take advantage of that when it came to his cases.
Marcus pulled on a pair of purple disposable gloves and went into the apartment. I walked back to the entryway. I wished Hope Lind, Marcus’s partner, were here. I could have gone with her to tell Simon about his father in person. It really wasn’t the kind of news he should get over the telephone. But Hope was in a rehab center in Minneapolis getting her mobility back after a serious injury to her leg that had required surgery to implant two plates in her ankle. She’d been hurt tracking a killer through the woods behind Wisteria Hill just before Halloween.
I wasn’t sure how to tell Simon what had happened but I hoped the news would be a little better coming from me. I pressed a hand over my mouth. There was no way to make this news any better.
Suddenly I could hear my mother’s voice in my head saying, “You can do this, Katydid.” I pulled out my phone, found Simon’s number and tapped the screen.
“Hi, Kathleen,” Simon said when he answered. “Let me guess, Mia thinks I’m taking too long.” There was an edge of amusement in his voice that sliced me like a knife thrust into my stomach.
“Hello, Simon,” I said, working to keep the emotion out of my voice and not completely succeeding. For a moment words escaped me. Then I found them. “Mia is all right”—I knew he needed to hear that first—“but there’s been an accident.”
“What happened?” His voice was devoid of all emotion.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s your father.”
For a moment there was silence, then Simon said, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
I nodded, then remembered that he couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said. “Mia needs you.”
“Where are you?”
“Your father’s apartment.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Are you all right to drive?” I asked before he could end the call. “Marcus— The police can send someone or . . . or I can come get you.” I wasn’t sure if it would be all right for me to leave but I didn’t want Simon to have an accident on the way across town.
“I’m all right,” he said. “Stay with Mia . . . please.”
“I will,” I said.
He didn’t say anything else and I realized he’d ended the call.
I stood there for a moment, watching the rain run down the glass panel in the heavy wooden door, then went upstairs.
Mia was curled up on Rebecca’s sofa, wrapped in a knitted blanket. She was cradling a mug that I guessed held hot chocolate. Her tears were gone. She’d washed her face but she was very pale. Rebecca sat beside her and Owen was on duty at her feet with what I suspected was a saucer of chicken.
Rebecca gave Mia’s arm a squeeze and got to her feet. She came over to me. “The police are here,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“What do you need, my dear?” she asked. I could see the concern in her blue eyes.
I shook my head. “I’m all right,” I said. But I wasn’t. This was not my first dead body but I felt more off-centered than I ever had before, maybe because of Mia. It was impossible not to feel the raw ache of her pain.
Rebecca put her arms around me and gave me a quick hug. “How about a cup of coffee?” she offered.
“That would be good,” I said, giving her hand an extra squeeze before I let her go.
Rebecca headed for the kitchen. I sat down on the black tweed sofa. “Your dad’s on the way,” I said to Mia.
Her knees were pulled up to her chest and she wrapped her free arm around them. “I bugged him until he said he’d come for Thanksgiving,” she said.
I knew she meant her grandfather. “And he was happy to be here,” I said. I flashed to Leo Janes at the library with his granddaughter. His happiness had been evident.
Mia held out her hand almost unthinkingly and I took it. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I’ve never been in a world that Grandpa wasn’t in.” She chewed the corner of her lip.
I took the mug of hot chocolate and set it at her feet. Owen gave it a curious look but seemed to know this would be a bad time to investigate any further. I put my arms around Mia, who laid her head on my shoulder. “I don’t think there is a right way to do this,” I said. “One foot in front of the other is what my mother always says. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and you’ll end up somewhere—maybe even where you wanted to go.”
“Your mother sounds pretty cool,” Mia said.
“She is,” I agreed.
Rebecca brought me a cup of coffee and I took exactly two sips from it before Simon appeared.
He wasn’t wearing a tie and the shoulders of his leather jacket and his face were wet with rain. He swiped a hand over his face and exhaled loudly. Mia was already on her feet. She went into her father’s arms and he folded her against his chest. He looked at me over the top of his daughter’s head and I could see the pain in every single line on his face.
Things seemed to speed up then. Mia told Simon what happened. She seemed steadier with him there. Marcus came in just as she was finishing. He told Simon and Mia how sorry he was about Leo and I noticed that his response was more personal than the usual, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he continued, “but I need to ask you a few more questions, Kathleen.”
“I have questions, Detective,” Simon said.
“I understand,” Marcus said. “Just let me get a few more details from Kathleen and I’ll do my best to answer them.”
“You can use the kitchen,” Rebecca said.
&n
bsp; “Thank you,” he said. He gestured for me to go ahead of him and I touched Mia’s shoulder as I passed her.
Marcus and I sat at the small round wooden table in the kitchen. “I just want you to walk me through what happened one more time, from the moment you realized the apartment door was ajar.”
“Okay,” I said. I explained how I had knocked and called out Leo’s name. “I know I should have just stopped and called nine-one-one right there. I just thought . . .”
My hands were flat on the table and Marcus covered one of them with one of his own. “It’s okay,” he said. “You said you gave Mia a ride because she was coming to see her grandfather. Why didn’t she just ring his doorbell when you first came in?”
“She did,” I said. “Leo didn’t answer when she rang the bell. Mia thought he was listening to music but something felt off to me.” I told him briefly again how I had stepped inside the apartment, seen the body and realized that Leo was dead. “I tried to tread carefully and I only touched his neck. I, uh, I didn’t want to mess up any potential evidence.”
He nodded. “I wish you didn’t know that.”
I knew he was referring to the fact that this wasn’t the first case of his I’d been mixed up in.
“Yeah, me too,” I said.
He leaned back in his chair. “I just have a few questions for Rebecca and then I’ll talk to Simon.”
I got to my feet. “I’ll get her for you.”
He raked a hand back through his hair. “Do you think Rebecca would mind if I had a cup of that coffee?” he asked, gesturing at the pot.
“Of course not.” I managed a small smile. “You know Rebecca.” There were several stoneware mugs on the counter next to the coffeepot. I gestured at them. “Pour yourself a cup and I’ll go get her for you.”
He got to his feet, stretching his neck to one side.
I paused by the doorway. “Are you going to tell Simon how his father died?” I asked.
For a moment he didn’t move. Then he turned to look at me, his movements slow and deliberate. “What do you mean?”
“I saw his head,” I said. “I saw that metal sculpture or whatever it was on the floor.” I swallowed. “And the place where his skull was crushed. I know he was murdered.”
chapter 5
Over the next few days Marcus was surprisingly closemouthed, even for him, about the murder. He canceled our plans twice and I tried hard not to ask any questions although I had plenty of them. Tuesday morning brought a third cancellation.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he called about nine thirty. “I know I said I’d take you to lunch today to make up for bailing on our dinner plans last night, but I have a meeting with someone from the medical examiner’s office.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I want you to find out who killed Leo Janes. If anything changes or if your meeting finishes early, call me.”
By twelve thirty he hadn’t called and I was getting hungry, so I decided to walk over to Eric’s for some chicken-noodle soup and maybe a big gooey brownie. I’d gotten out of the habit of walking around town and I really did miss it. I almost always met someone I knew and it was fun to see what was on display in the bookstore’s front window or what the latest fashions were at Abel’s Boutique.
Downtown Mayville Heights is laid out more or less like a grid. The streets that run from one end of town to the other all follow the sweep of the shoreline of Lake Pepin, which meant Eric’s was just down the street from the library. The cross streets mostly cut straight up the hill, all the way up to Wild Rose Bluff, where a lot of the stone that was used on many of the older buildings had come from.
When I’d first arrived in town it had taken a while for me to learn my way around, mostly because of the way streets and buildings were named—and sometimes renamed. For instance, Old Main Street followed the shoreline from the Stratton Theatre, past the library and the St. James Hotel all the way to the marina. Main Street continued from the marina to the edge of town, where it joined the highway.
Old Main Street was originally Olde Street, with an E at the end. It had been the main route from the lumber camps to where the marina is now. Over time Olde Street had morphed into Old Main Street. Still, having two Main streets made giving directions to people from out of town very confusing, compounded by the fact that the St. James Hotel had reverted to its original name, the St. James Hotel, after a decade of being just the James Hotel.
Ruby Blackthorne was standing at the counter at Eric’s when I stepped inside, waiting for a take-out order I guessed. There was a heavyset man with her wearing a woolen tweed coat with a striped black-and-maroon scarf knotted loosely at his neck. From the back he looked vaguely familiar.
Like Maggie, Ruby was an artist, albeit a lot more flamboyant. She’d added a streak the color of lime Jell-O to her hair since our last tai chi class and another piercing in her right ear. Ruby was also the current president of the artists’ co-operative and the two of us been working together a lot recently, looking for ways the artists’ co-op and the library could offer programs that would bring in visitors to both places.
Ruby turned as I came up beside her. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.
I smiled. “Hi.”
“Claire just went to get our order,” she said. “She’ll be right back.” She gestured to the man beside her. “This is my friend Elias Braeden. Elias, this is Kathleen Paulson. She’s our head librarian.”
Elias Braeden offered his hand and as I took it I realized I’d seen him before. He was the man who had come into the library just last week, the man who Leo Janes had thought for a moment looked familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kathleen,” he said.
Elias was a bit above average height with broad shoulders and a muscular build evident even under his heavy coat. His hair was a mix of gray and brown, as was his close-cropped mustache. He had piercing dark eyes and a lined, lived-in face.
“Do you remember me telling you that I worked as a singer and dancer at a resort for three summers when I was in art school?” Ruby said.
I nodded. “I remember.” Ruby had shown me photos of herself dead center in a kick line wearing high heels, sequins, a feathered headdress and very little else.
“Elias owned the resort. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. He was a friend of my grandfather.”
“Ruby’s very talented,” he said.
“Yes, she is,” I agreed. “She did some wonderful paintings of my cats.”
“So you own Owen and Hercules? Ruby showed me the photos she took of them.”
I nodded. “Actually it’s more like they own me,” I said with a smile.
Claire came out of the kitchen then, carrying a large paper take-out bag.
Before Ruby could move Elias put a hand in front of her. “I suggested lunch,” he said. “This is on me. No arguments.”
“Like arguing with you would be anything other than a waste of time,” Ruby said with an indulgent smile. It was clear she was very fond of the man.
Elias moved to the counter and pulled out his wallet. He had massive hands, like a wide receiver, I noticed.
Ruby turned to me. “Elias is here because he’s thinking of buying the Silver Casino.” The casino was about halfway between Minneapolis and Mayville Heights. “He used to work for my grandfather when I was a little girl. That’s how they got to be friends.”
I nodded. Ruby’s grandfather, Idris Blackthorne, had been the area bootlegger, among other things, and had run an ongoing high-stakes poker game out of a small cabin in the woods close to Wisteria Hill. Given Elias’s size and huge hands, it wasn’t hard to imagine the kind of things he’d probably done for Idris. His presence alone had probably been very intimidating.
Elias rejoined us then, holding the take-out bag.
“Kathleen, Elias is a fan of old buildings,” Ruby said. “Any chance you could giv
e him a tour of the library while he’s here?”
“I’d be happy to.” I smiled at the older man. “But I think you’ve already visited the building. Didn’t I see you come in one day last week?”
“You did,” he said. He had a charming smile, warm and genuine. “I had a bit of time to kill before a meeting but I’d love a tour if you happen to have the time some day.”
“I’d be happy to show you around,” I said. “Please stop in when you have time.”
“I may take you up on that.”
We shook hands. His grip was firm but not overpowering. “It was good to meet you,” I said.
Ruby waved good-bye to Claire. “I’ll see you at class, Kathleen,” she said.
They headed for the door and I moved over to the counter. I could smell Eric’s chicken soup and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.
• • •
Mia walked in for her shift just before four thirty that afternoon. Mary and I were looking at the book drop, which was sticking again, mostly because someone—some delinquent hooligan, as Mary had put it—had jammed about two packages of chewing gum—strawberry flavored based on what we could smell—into the channels for the pull-out door. I was wondering if I should try to dig the gum out myself or just give in to the inevitable and call Harry, when Mary elbowed me.
“Kathleen,” she said, sotto voce.
I turned to see what she was looking at. “Give me a minute,” I said. I brushed off my hands and walked over to the teen. “Mia, you didn’t have to come in today.”
“I wanted to. That’s okay, right?” She looked a little uncertain. One hand played with the zipper pull of her jacket.
“Of course it is,” I said.
Mary joined us. She smiled at Mia. “I have something for you upstairs in the staff room. I found a couple of photos of your grandfather when he was about your age. I thought maybe you’d like to have them.”
Mia nodded and managed a smile. “I would like to have them. Thank you.”