A Tale of Two Kitties

by Sofie Kelly

  “Better than I would have done at the same age,” I said.

  “She has the same vein of inner resilience that both her grandfather and father have,” Rebecca said. “Leo was a good man. You would have liked him if you’d been able to get to know him.”

  I thought about the one time I’d met Leo Janes at the library and the love and pride I’d seen on his face when he looked at his granddaughter. I had liked him.

  Rebecca was wearing a tie-dyed, pale blue silk scarf at the neck of her navy blue suit jacket. It reminded me of the scarf I’d found on the sidewalk the night of Leo’s death. “I forgot to tell you,” I said. “I found your scarf.”

  “What scarf would that be, dear?” she asked.

  “It’s just like this one,” I said, reaching out to finger the ends of the silky fabric around her neck. “Only in shades of yellow instead of blue. I found it on the sidewalk the night . . . the night Leo . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Rebecca touched my arm. “I didn’t lose a scarf,” she said. “I don’t own any yellow scarves at all. Someone walking by must have dropped it.”

  Across the room Everett caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. She gave my arm a squeeze. “I’ll talk to you after the service,” she said.

  I nodded.

  Harrison Taylor came in with Harry Junior and Larry—Harrison’s younger son—all three men dressed in dark suits and ties. Harrison shook hands with both Simon and Victor. He took Mia’s hands between his own large ones and said something to her that made her smile.

  I watched Harry Junior speaking with Simon and I couldn’t help wondering again why he and Leo had argued in the gazebo.

  Marcus walked in then dressed in his dark blue suit with the blue tie my mother had sent him from Los Angeles the last time she’d been there. Simon caught sight of him at the same time and, as I watched, he excused himself from Harry and turned to Marcus. Marcus offered his hand and Simon took it, leaning in as he spoke. I saw Marcus nod at whatever the other man was saying.

  The conversation was brief. Marcus made his way over to me. I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “How’s Mia?” he asked, looking over at the teen standing tall and poised next to her father and uncle.

  “All right,” I said. “I wish she didn’t have to go through this.”

  “I wish no child did,” he said.

  “Are you here to watch Simon or to look for other suspects?” I asked.

  “I’m here because it’s my job,” he said. “Simon wants to talk to me this afternoon. Do you know why?”

  Before I could answer Daniel Gunnerson came out to collect the family for a private moment before the service. Simon turned to look for me.

  “I have to go,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Marcus’s hand brushed mine. “Go,” he said. “I’ll bring you dinner later.”

  • • •

  The service was simple but very moving. Mia held on to her father’s hand with one hand and mine with the other.

  Mary spoke from the heart about her friendship with Leo when they were young. More than once people laughed at the memories. She told the story about Leo kidnapping the mascot of the high school in Red Wing and how the first Christmas she and her husband were married, Leo came and helped put up the Christmas tree after Mary had kicked her husband and burst into tears when he said she had a crooked eye because it turned out the tree had a decided list to the left after she’d fastened it in its stand. She finished by laying her hand on the urn at the front of the room, saying, “Rest well, my friend.”

  Simon reached for Mary’s hand as she passed on the way back to her seat and she blew Mia a kiss.

  Simon spoke briefly about his father, about how Leo had encouraged him to go after his dreams. He smiled a tight smile. “He made me the man I am today, for better or worse.”

  To my surprise Victor Janes went to the podium. Mia tightened her grip on my hand so much that my fingers began to go numb. I suspected Victor speaking hadn’t been planned. I felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He was the one with a serious illness, trying to atone for his past mistakes, and now his brother was dead. He’d run out of time but not in the way he’d likely expected.

  Victor cleared his throat and looked out over the rows of people, all friends of Leo or of Simon and Mia. “Leo was the older by seven minutes and he always felt that gave him the right to act like a big brother,” he said.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Simon’s shoulders tense.

  Victor stared down at the podium. “He was a great brother and I wish I’d said that more often.” He looked at the copper urn for a long moment and then took his seat again.

  Mia spoke last. She talked about what a great grandfather Leo was, how he’d played tea party with her and dressed up at Halloween but how he’d also read poetry to her and corrected her when she said “like” too much. Her voice was strong and her hands on the edge of the podium were steady, although unshed tears shone in her eyes.

  “The world was better with my grandfather in it and it’s a little less with him gone,” she said.

  Then she turned and looked at the polished urn. “Walt Whitman was one of Grandpa’s favorite poets.” She took a breath but she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They slid down her face but her voice was strong. “‘O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.’” She blew a kiss to the urn and I felt a tear slip down my own face.

  There was a reception in the big front room of the funeral home after the service. I carried a cup of coffee around but didn’t actually drink from it. There was no way I could swallow anything past the lump that seemed to be permanently stuck in my throat.

  Harrison Taylor came up behind me. “That coffee has to be colder than a witch’s—”

  I flashed a warning look at him.

  “Kiss,” the old man finished, a devilish gleam in his eye. “No appetite?” he asked, tipping his head toward my cup.

  I set it down on the table to my right. “Not really.”

  “I’m the same way,” the old man said. “I get that this is part of how people grieve and, hell, I think it’s good for the family to hear stories and memories about their loved one, but I’ll be damned if I can understand how anyone can go from sitting in Daniel Gunnerson’s back room to stuffing their face with potato salad.” He patted my arm. “The boys would say I’m raving. How are you?”

  I smiled at him. “I’m fine, Harrison. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, girl,” he said. “Damned sorry to hear about Leo Janes.”

  I nodded. “I only met the man once but I liked him.”

  “He was that kind of person,” Harrison said. “And he’d be proud of that granddaughter of his today.”

  “Mia’s mother died when she was a baby, didn’t she?” I asked. Neither Mia nor Simon ever spoke about Mia’s mom.

  “In childbirth.”

  I glanced over at Simon, talking to Brady Chapman. “I had no idea.”

  The old man nodded. “She and Simon were just teenagers. There were some kind of complications with the delivery.” He leaned on his cane and looked across the room at Simon. “Her parents tried to take the baby. Simon dug his heels in. He wanted to raise her himself. Lord knows what Leo must have thought, and he’s the only one who ever did because he backed that boy one hundred percent. The whole thing ended up in court.” He gestured with one deeply veined hand. “You know the rest.”

  “I had no idea,” I said.

  “Most folks don’t.” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “That man of yours know who did this?”

  “He’s working on it,” I said.

  “No offense intended, but it probably wouldn’t hurt if he had some help.”

  I stood on tiptoe, put one hand on the shoulder of h
is black suit and kissed his cheek. “You’re not subtle,” I said.

  He gave a snort. “I’m too old to be subtle,” he said.

  I looked at my watch. It was getting late and I needed to get to the library. I promised Harrison I would be out soon for supper and headed over to say good-bye to Mia.

  “Call me or text me anytime,” I said. “I mean it.”

  “I will,” she said. She hugged me tightly.

  Simon put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just going to walk Kathleen out. I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “I’m okay,” Mia said. Simon caught Denise’s eye and she nodded. I knew she’d keep a close eye on Mia. Like me, she’d been doing that all morning.

  I didn’t realize how warm it was inside the funeral home until we stepped outside.

  “I didn’t know he knew so many people,” Simon said as we crossed the pavement toward my truck.

  I thought he looked tired, the lines around his eyes pulling tighter than they had when we’d first arrived for the service.

  “It’s not just your father all these people care about,” I said. “They care about you and Mia as well.”

  We reached the truck and Simon pulled at his tie, loosening it a little. “My father loved this place,” he said. “After my mother died we moved to Green Bay and then Milwaukee. Dad went back to school and got his PhD in math. He taught for twenty years at Marquette University.” He swiped a hand over the top of his head. “He loved math the way some people love the New York Yankees or Star Wars movies.”

  I smiled.

  “And he loved to play blackjack and poker. Would you believe Dad was banned from a couple of casinos?” He kicked a rock, sending it skittering over the pavement.

  I thought about the smiling man I’d met who doted on his granddaughter. It was hard to imagine Leo as a card shark. “What did he do?” I asked.

  Simon gave me a wry smile. “Your guess is as good as mine. He always claimed he didn’t cheat. He said the odds were stacked overwhelmingly in favor of the house and he was just evening things up a little.”

  “I wish I’d gotten to know him better,” I said.

  “You would have liked him.”

  I nodded. “I already did.”

  “Thank you for everything you did for Mia today,” Simon said.

  “She’s special,” I said, turning to look back at the funeral home for a moment.

  “She’s not the only one.” He leaned over and his lips brushed my forehead, then he turned and headed back across the lot.

  • • •

  Abigail was working the front desk when I got to the library. “How was the funeral?” she said.

  “Sad,” I said.

  “And Mia?”

  I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “She got up and spoke and she was so grown-up, but underneath all that she’s still a little girl who misses her grandfather.”

  Later that afternoon I was pushing an empty book cart back to the front desk when Harry Junior came in. He lifted a hand and I joined him.

  “I just took a look at the loading bay door and it definitely needs a new seal. That’s where the rain’s getting in.”

  “That’s better than a whole new door,” I said. “How do we get a new seal?”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” he said. “Thorsten thinks there’s one at the town depot. I can go over and check if you want me to.” He pulled off his Twins cap and smoothed a hand over his mostly bald scalp. “Do you need me to write you up a requisition for Lita?”

  “I will,” I said, “but I have enough in the repairs budget, so if they’ve got it, get it and go ahead and install it. There’s rain in the long range for the first of next week.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “I talked to your father at the service. He’s looking hale and hearty.”

  Harry smiled. “As much as I hate to admit it, this new romance of his seems to be agreeing with him.” He pointed a finger at me. “And if you tell him I said that, those blackberries you like so much from my backyard might mysteriously disappear.”

  I held up both hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  He smiled.

  “It was good of you and Larry to come to the funeral as well,” I said.

  He suddenly looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “Leo Janes and the old man were friends a long time ago. It was the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “I better get over and get that seal. I’ll let you know when the door’s fixed.”

  I watched him go, and Harrison’s nudge that I should get involved in the investigation into Leo Janes’s death came into my mind. I flashed to Simon in the funeral home parking lot and to Harry Taylor just now. I had no idea who had killed Leo Janes, but I did know that at least two people were probably hiding things.

  chapter 6

  Saturday morning I had a meeting with Ruby and Taylor King at the library. We’d gotten a small grant from the state to offer a summer reading club for elementary school kids. Ruby was going to run the program with help from Taylor. Ruby had lots of experience with that kind of thing—she’d been doing various art programs in the local schools for several years. Taylor had helped with the Reading Buddies Halloween party and I’d seen firsthand how good the teen was with little kids.

  We went over what I was hoping to accomplish with the program. Both Ruby and Taylor had some good suggestions to improve my ideas and when we wrapped up just before ten thirty I felt satisfied that when the time came, the summer reading club was going to be a big success.

  I was just coming back downstairs from grabbing a quick cup of coffee around eleven thirty when Elias Braeden walked in the front door. I raised a hand in hello and he smiled and walked over to me.

  “Good morning, Kathleen,” he said. “I was hoping I could take you up on your offer of a tour of the library. Is this a good time?” He was wearing a black quilted jacket with a standup collar over a gray sweater.

  “All I was going to do was shelve some books,” I said. “So yes, it’s a good time.” We headed over to the front desk, where I introduced Elias to Abigail. “I’m going to give Elias a tour of the building,” I said.

  “I like old things,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

  “Me too,” Abigail said, smiling up at him. “They always have a story.” She gestured toward the entrance. “Make sure Kathleen tells you the story behind our sun.”

  “Why don’t we start there?” I said. We moved a few steps closer to the entryway. A carved and pieced wooden sun, more than three feet across, hung above the door frame. Above it were stenciled the words “Let there be light.” A carving of the sun and those same words were over the entrance to the very first Carnegie library in Scotland.

  Elias looked at me, a frown creasing his forehead. “Wait a minute, this is a Carnegie library?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He tipped his head back to study the sun. “That’s beautiful work.”

  “Oren Kenyon’s,” I said. “He lives here in Mayville Heights and he’s as much an artist as he is a carpenter.”

  I took Elias outside onto the steps to show him the wrought-iron railing Oren had also fabricated. The center wrought-iron spindle on each side of the landing divided into a perfect oval about the size of my two hands and then reformed into a twist again. The letters M, H, F, P and L for “Mayville Heights Free Public Library” were intertwined, seemingly suspended in the middle of the circles.

  Elias ran his hand over the metal. “Mr. Kenyon is an incredible craftsman,” he said.

  We went back inside and I showed off the restored mosaic tile floor, the wide ornate woodwork and the stained glass window that made rainbow patterns of light on the floor when the sun streamed through it.

  “I’m impressed,” Elias said. “It’s been a long time s
ince I was in this building. You’ve restored it to its glory days.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Renovating the library had been a massive project filled with massive headaches. There were times I doubted it would ever be completed, let alone completed in time for the centennial celebration, but we managed to make it happen. I loved showing off the finished product. “You’ve known Ruby her entire life,” I said. The words weren’t really a question.

  He nodded. “Since she was five days old. She probably told you that I worked for her grandfather.”

  I nodded. “Is that how you knew Leo Janes? When you were in here before I thought you seemed to recognize him.”

  “Yes, I recognized him,” Elias said, glancing at his watch, a Citizen Eco-Drive, powered by light. It seemed to represent the man, understated and practical. “But not from when I worked for Idris. About six months ago I threw Mr. Janes out of my casino.”

  I remembered what Simon had told me about his father being banned from several casinos. “What exactly did he do?” I asked.

  If Elias thought I was nosy it didn’t show on his face. “He was cheating,” he said flatly.

  “You don’t mean he was hiding cards up his sleeve, do you?” I said.

  Elias shook his head. “No. At least I don’t think he was. I don’t actually know what he was doing. That was the problem.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I think he was counting cards and had people helping him, but I could never prove it.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know he was a math professor?”

  I nodded.

  “I did a background check on Mr. Janes. I found photos online of him with several of his students. Some of those same students turned up on the surveillance footage when Mr. Janes was in my casino.” He paused. “At my blackjack tables.”

  I didn’t know what to say, and that did seem to show on my face. “Kathleen, Leo Janes cost me more than a million dollars, money that I don’t believe he won fair and square.”

  I realized then that Elias had been talking about Leo in the past tense. “You know that Leo is dead,” I said.