A Tale of Two Kitties

by Sofie Kelly

  Harry held up a hand. “Hang on. I’ll walk over with you.” He reached behind him for his jacket, pulled it on and stepped out into the landing, tucking the reading glasses into his pocket.

  “Your father was friends with Leo Janes,” I said as we walked across the gravel parking area.

  Harry nodded. “They played poker together and some hockey back in the day.” He’d pulled up his collar against the sharp bite of the night air and his hands were jammed in his pockets.

  “What about Victor?” I asked.

  “Not so much, at least as far as I know. From what the old man said those two may have been twins but they were very different people. You know the old saying, looks can be deceiving.”

  “It seems to me people don’t really like Victor Janes,” I said.

  “Can’t say you’re wrong.” Harry stopped walking and looked at me. “I’m sorry to hear he’s so sick and all, but at the end of the day Victor ran off with his brother’s wife. People in this town have long memories for something like that.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, it’s easy to turn Leo Janes into a saint now that he’s dead.”

  It wasn’t like Harry to speak ill of someone who wasn’t around to defend himself. Again I wondered what Harry and Leo had been arguing about the day I’d seen them by the gazebo. I was about to ask him but he’d started walking again.

  I hurried to catch up with him. Harry knocked on the side door of his father’s house and didn’t wait to be invited in. “Dad, it’s me,” he said, opening the door and stepping inside.

  “You checking up on me?” Harrison Senior called.

  Harry looked at me and shook his head. I leaned around the kitchen doorway. “Yes,” I said. “I am.”

  The old man was sitting in his favorite chair next to the woodstove. His granddaughter Mariah was at his feet on a tufted black leather footstool and Mia was sitting cross-legged in the chair opposite, a notebook open on her lap, her cell phone resting on one knee. Boris was at her feet.

  “Kathleen, girl, what are you doing out here?” Harrison smiled at me and made a move to get to his feet.

  “Stay where you are,” I said. I crossed the room, leaned over and gave him a hug. “I came out here to see if you’re behaving yourself.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I am,” he said. He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I’m trying to be a good role model for the girls.”

  “Of course,” his son added drily behind me.

  Mia smiled at me. “Dad texted and said there was some kind of problem at his office so you were coming to get me.”

  Boris had gotten up and padded over to me. I dug my fingers into the thick fur of his neck and gave him a scratch and he sighed happily. “How are you, boy?” I said. He leaned his warm weight against my leg. “So have you filled the girls in on all the history of the town?” I asked.

  “How old exactly do you think I am?” Harrison asked, and I could see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “They say age brings wisdom,” I said. “I think you are a very wise man. I also think there’s still more for you to learn.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You have the soul of a diplomat,” he said.

  I smiled then I looked at Mia. “Are you ready?” I asked.

  She nodded, closing her notebook and reaching for a black backpack I hadn’t noticed at her feet. Mariah got up and moved the footstool back against the wall.

  Mia got to her feet as well. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Taylor,” she said.

  He reached up and caught one of her hands, giving it a squeeze. “Anytime, child,” he said. “Come back and see us anytime.”

  She smiled. “I will.”

  Harrison started to get to his feet.

  “You don’t have to get up, Dad,” Harry said behind me.

  “You think I was born in a barn?” the old man countered. “I have better manners than to expect a lady to see herself to the door.”

  Harry held up one hand. “I’m here,” he said.

  “And I can certainly hear you and see you,” his father said.

  Mariah had stashed all of her things in a camouflage messenger bag. Now she threw her arms around her grandfather. “Thanks, Pops,” she said.

  He kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome, my girl.”

  I took his arm and we headed for the door. The girls were already outside looking for the Big Dipper in the clear night sky.

  “Take good care of that child, Kathleen,” Harrison said quietly to me. “She’s been through more than a child her age should have to face.”

  “I will. I promise,” I said.

  “And come out and see me when you can sit for a bit.”

  “I promise I’ll do that as well,” I said. I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  “Lock up after us,” Harry said to his father. “And remember you have that appointment at the dentist tomorrow.”

  “Not likely you’d let me forget,” the old man grumbled.

  I raised a hand in good-bye and he closed the door. Harry listened for the snap of the dead bolt before he moved.

  I touched his arm. “Have a good night,” I said.

  He nodded. “You too, Kathleen. And Dad’s right. Come out when you can stay awhile.”

  “I will,” I said.

  Mariah had started for the house and Mia was standing waiting for me on the gravel.

  We headed for the truck. Hercules was looking out the driver’s-side window.

  “That’s not Owen,” Mia said. “Is it Hercules?”

  “Yes, it is,” I said. “He called shotgun.” I unlocked the passenger door for her and walked around the truck to the driver’s side.

  “Hey, Hercules,” Mia said. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

  Always modest, the cat ducked his head and meowed softly.

  “He’s so handsome. He looks like he’s wearing a tuxedo.”

  Herc murped at her and moved a bit closer. He liked to be complimented on how he looked.

  I fastened my seat belt, started the truck and headed down the long driveway as Mia kept talking to Hercules. Once we were on the road I saw her look in my direction.

  “So what happened at my father’s office?” she said.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He just said something happened. Did someone break in?”

  “They tried. They didn’t succeed.”

  She sighed. “I bet Dad’s piss— Mad,” she said.

  I flipped my turn signal on. “I don’t blame him,” I said. “When someone spray painted graffiti on the loading-bay door at the library back in the spring all I could think of was finding whoever had done it and standing over them while they scrubbed off every speck of paint. I know it wasn’t personal but it felt that way. Your father probably feels the same.”

  “Do you think it was someone looking for something to steal who killed my grandfather?” Mia asked.

  I didn’t, but I also didn’t want to say that to her. “Maybe,” I said. “The police look at every possibility.”

  “They’re looking at my father.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I would be irresponsible not to. If they don’t and someone else is arrested the first thing that person’s lawyer will do is point out that your father wasn’t investigated.”

  “Mrr,” Hercules said.

  “See? He agrees with me.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile.

  “I know,” she said. “When people are killed more than half the time it’s by someone they know and about a quarter of the time it’s someone in their family.”

  I shot her a quick glance. How on earth did she know that?

  “I was on the FBI website,” she said by way of explanation.

  “There’s something wrong with Snapchat?” I said.

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nbsp; Mia laughed. “No, I just like knowing things.”

  “I get that,” I said. “I like knowing things, too.”

  “But I should have fun while I’m young,” she finished.

  I looked sideways again and smiled. “You’re stealing my best speeches,” I said.

  We drove in silence for a minute or so. Then Mia said, “Do you miss your family?”

  I nodded. “Very much. But my mother has been going back and forth to Los Angeles and my brother is on the road with his band, so even if I were in Boston it doesn’t mean I’d see them that much.”

  Mia reached into her pocket and then extended her hand. I shot a quick look in her direction. A small, brown acorn sat in the middle of her palm. “My grandfather said acorns were good luck,” she said. “I’ve been carrying it around since the funeral. How crazy is that?”

  “I grew up around theater people,” I said. “I know all about charms for good luck.” I remembered sitting in the middle of my parents’ bed in their place in Boston as my mother went through her closet in what I knew would be a futile effort to cull some things from the space. My father’s clothes lived in the closet in their office.

  “What about this?” Dad had asked, holding up a black woolen winter coat with a gray faux-fur collar and wide bands of faux-fur trim on the sleeves. My mother had taken the coat from his hands. “Not that. That style is coming back. I might wear it this winter.”

  I’d pressed my lips together to keep a smile from getting loose as my dad gave a sigh of exasperation. “Okay, then what about this?” He held up a long, silky dress. It was a pale sage green with an empire waist and a pleated cape collar.

  Mom shook her head and reached for a pair of black leather pants. “I can’t get rid of that. That’s my lucky dress.”

  Dad swiped a hand over his mouth. “There’s no such thing as a lucky dress,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow and gave him what I thought of as her Mona Lisa smile. “You got lucky the first time I wore that dress,” she said.

  He pulled her to him with one arm, tipped her back into a sweeping dip and kissed her. I fell over sideways on the bed and pulled a pillow over my head in embarrassment. I could still hear them laughing.

  I smiled at the memory and glanced in Mia’s direction again. “When I left Boston my mom gave me a sixpence for good luck. It’s English money.”

  Mia nodded.

  “I still carry it in my wallet. Mayville Heights may be home now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss my family back in Boston.”

  “Sometimes I think I miss my mother,” Mia said, her voice thoughtful. “I didn’t get to know her so I think what I really miss is the idea of her.”

  “I get that,” I said. “I’ve felt the same way about grandparents. Mine died before I was born, so I wasn’t missing them, I was missing the idea of grandparents. Sometimes I still feel that way.”

  “My dad and my mother were just teenagers when they had me,” Mia continued. She was twisting one end of her long scarf in her hands. “She died right after I was born and her mom and dad—my other grandparents—tried to take me away from my dad. They said he wouldn’t be able to take care of me. It all went to court and the judge let me stay with Dad. He told me that my grandfather never tried to talk him out of raising me. Grandpa and my dad fought about stuff because they’re both stubborn people.”

  I noticed she referred to Leo in the present tense.

  “But he would never have hurt Grandpa, because he loves me.”

  I exhaled slowly. “I know that,” I said. “Give the police a little time and they’ll figure it out, too.”

  I hoped I was right.

  chapter 9

  Simon was waiting for us in the entrance of the brick building that housed his office and several others. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over jeans and a rust-colored sweater. He smiled when he caught sight of Mia. She went right over to him and gave him a hug. “Kathleen said someone tried to rob you but they didn’t get into the office.”

  He nodded. “They tried my office and two other ones on this floor.” He smiled at me over his daughter’s head. “Thanks for picking her up.”

  “Anytime,” I said. “I got to see Harrison, so it was good for me, too.”

  “Police are almost done and then we can head home,” Simon said to Mia. He pointed at a wooden bench near the doors. “Go sit and we’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes.”

  She cocked her head to one side and studied her father. “You just want to talk to Kathleen without me listening.”

  Simon swiped a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Yes, I do, so please go sit over there so I can do that and she can go home.”

  Mia grinned at her dad. “Okay.” She went over to the bench and opened her backpack.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” Simon said.

  “I’m happy to do anything for Mia,” I said. And I was, although I suspected picking up Mia was a bit of a contrivance on Simon’s part. I could see that he was interested in me and this was a way for the two of us to spend time together, even if just for a few minutes. Simon knew Marcus and I were together but he wasn’t the type of man to just walk away without at least trying to get what he wanted.

  Down the hallway behind us Marcus came out of Simon’s office. He stopped when he noticed me standing with Simon. I raised a hand in hello and for a moment I thought he was going to join us, but he just nodded and moved to speak to another police officer in the hall.

  “Kathleen, can I ask you something?” Simon said.

  “Sure,” I said, pulling my attention back from Marcus.

  “The police still consider me a suspect, don’t they?”

  I looked away from him for a moment, studying the exposed brick wall to my right. “At this point everyone is a suspect.”

  “So yes.”

  “They’re still gathering evidence,” I said, finally shifting my gaze back to him.

  “There’s something I need to—want to—tell you,” he said. His expression was serious and one hand was playing with the band of his watch. “My father and I had an argument a couple of days before he was killed. We had more than one, actually.”

  “Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure why Simon was telling me this. I already knew he and Leo had had a relationship that was contentious at times and Marcus had told me about their disagreement at the hotel bar.

  “This was a very public argument in the parking lot over at Fern’s.” He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

  Fern’s was Fern’s Diner, home of Meatloaf Tuesday and also where Harrison Taylor’s lady friend, Peggy Sue, worked.

  “Families have arguments,” I said. “Even the police know that.”

  The lines in his face seemed to deepen. “One of the last things my father said to me was, ‘You’re killing me.’”

  It took me a moment to find the right words to say what I wanted to say. “Simon, I only met your father once, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would want you to get stuck on something he said when he was angry.”

  He studied me for a long moment, as though he thought he could find some answers on my face, and then his expression softened. “Mia’s right,” he said.

  I was lost. “About what?”

  “About you being nice.”

  I shook my head. “I’m starting to dislike the word,” I said, giving him a wry smile.

  Simon shook his head. “You shouldn’t. We act like being nice is somehow a bad thing. It’s not. The world needs more nice people.”

  “Well, this so-called nice person thinks that the police aren’t going to arrest you because you had an argument with your father in the parking lot of Fern’s.”

  I glanced over at Mia. She was bent over her notebook, holding her cell phone with one hand.

 
“It isn’t any of my business, but what were you arguing about?” I asked. “I know it’s been difficult having your uncle here.”

  Simon nodded. “Dad and I did have words over that more than once, but it’s not what the fight at Fern’s was about.”

  I waited. Simon’s mouth moved but it took longer for words to come. Finally he said, “You have to have heard about my mother. Mayville Heights is a small town, after all.”

  “I’ve heard,” I said.

  “We never talked about my mother—my choice, not his.” His fingers played with his watchband again. “I knew that Dad was angry and hurt for a long time, but I really thought he’d put that part of his life to rest a long time ago.” He looked past me for a moment and then shook his head. “He hadn’t.” He focused on me once more. “A few weeks ago I found out that he had hired a private investigator to look into the car accident that killed my mother.”

  Meredith Janes’s death. Was it possible it was connected to what happened to Leo?

  “Did you ask him why?” I said.

  “I asked him why, all right. Why he was doing it, why he hadn’t told me, why he thought there was any point to digging up such a painful part of both our pasts after all this time. Just before he hired that investigator Mia was doing a school project, a family tree. I know they talked about . . . my mother. Dad started reading some of the old news coverage. He said he’d never been satisfied with the investigation.”

  He sighed. “Kathleen, a few years ago I went to Chicago, to the police station. I talked to the detective who investigated my mother’s car accident. I looked at the reports. There was no big conspiracy. The road was wet, she was speeding—which according to everyone she knew was something she’d done since she got her driver’s license. She went off the road and over an embankment. She died. End of story.” He shook his head. “You’re the only other person aside from Dad I’ve told this to, and I waited a long time before I told him. I hate that my mother still has so much power in my life.”

  Mia looked up and smiled over at us then dropped her head over her phone again.

  “He wanted me to be part of this ridiculous investigation. This fool’s errand. I said no. He tried to change my mind. That’s what we were fighting about.” He shrugged.