Sleight of Paw

by Kelly, Sofie

I thought of Harry Taylor, adamant about keeping his promise to a dead person.

  I got three bowls down from the cupboard and checked the clock. The dumplings were just about done. “What was she like outside of school?”

  “Her whole life was school,” Roma said. “After she got divorced she threw her energy into David and the school. I don’t think I told you she did a six-month stint of volunteer teaching in a school in rural Tennessee. That was Agatha.”

  Mags and Roma shared stories from their high school days over supper. I spent as much time laughing as I did eating.

  “I want to see pictures,” I said, pointing my spoon at Maggie.

  “Nonexistent.” She speared the last dumpling in her bowl. “When my mother moved I got every single one of them and burned them all.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Big hair and parachute pants, gone.”

  “I need to check in at the clinic,” Roma said after the table was cleared and I’d turned down her offer to help with the dishes. She looked at Maggie. “Do you want a ride?”

  “Yeah,” Maggie said. “I don’t feel like walking.”

  Hercules and Owen wandered in to say good-bye. “Call me if you hear anything,” I said, giving Maggie a hug.

  “You, too.”

  Owen made a low sound in his throat when the door closed. It was almost like a sigh.

  “Just a little too over the top, Owen,” I said, walking back into the living room. The house seemed so quiet with Maggie and Roma gone. Then I thought about Ruby sitting in a jail cell. I picked up the pillow Maggie had thrown at Roma and put it back on the sofa. I sat in the chair and pulled the phone closer. Hercules appeared at my feet as I punched in the number.

  “Come on up,” I said, patting my leg. He jumped and settled on my lap.

  My brother, Ethan, answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, Mom said it was you.”

  Our mother always seemed to know when it was one of us on the phone. Ethan would be on the road, hundreds of miles away. The phone would ring and Mom would say, “Get the phone, Katie. That’s your brother.” And the next thing I’d hear would be, “This is a collect call from . . .”

  “So, you haven’t run off with a yeti or anything yet,” Ethan said. I could picture him grinning.

  “No,” I said indignantly. “We’ve just started dating.”

  He laughed and the sound made me catch my breath with homesickness.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “Winterfest.”

  “What’s Winterfest? Some kind of pagan ritual where you all join hands in a circle and ask the gods of winter not to send any more snow?”

  “Actually we ask them to send it all to Boston,” I countered. That got another laugh. I told him about the sliding hill, my victory at the puck shoot and my first time on skates.

  “Are there any pictures? Any cell-phone video?” he teased. “Because I have cash.”

  “Forget it. The only way you’re going to see me on skates is if you come and do it in person.”

  “You inviting me to visit?”

  “Anytime, baby brother,” I said. “We’re planning a big party for the library in the spring.”

  “Yeah, maybe I will. When things quiet down. I miss having you to boss me around.”

  I felt that twist of homesickness again, but I swallowed it away. Ethan and I talked about his band, The Flaming Gerbils—which was spending a lot more time on the road—and his love life, which was always entertaining and way more complicated than anyone’s I knew.

  Finally Ethan said, “I’d better let you talk to Mom. She’s hovering.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” I said. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” he said, handing the phone off to Mom.

  “I wasn’t hovering” were the first words out of her mouth.

  “Okay.”

  “I was lurking,” she continued.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “It’s all in how you hold your upper body.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. With my mother you couldn’t always tell.

  “How are you, Katydid?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Tell me about Winterfest,” she said. My mother read the Mayville Heights paper online, so she always had a general idea of what was going on here.

  I told her all about the winter carnival, including my turn around the outdoor rink. She laughed. “So that’s what Ethan was teasing you about.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s a good thing there are no pictures. Knowing him, I might end up an Internet star.”

  “Are there any photos of Maggie’s installation?” Mom asked. “I’d love to see it.”

  “I don’t think she’d mind if I took some and e-mailed them to you.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.”

  We talked for a few more minutes. Mom and Dad were working on a production of King Lear at the school where they both taught. She was directing and he was playing the old king. They were speaking at the moment, but I knew before the production started there’d be fireworks. There always were, which is why they’d been married twice. There were crazy for each other, but they also made themselves and everyone around them crazy, too.

  I thought about telling Mom about Ruby and letting her reassure me that everything would work out. But I didn’t. I didn’t want her to worry that I’d gotten tangled up in another crime, even if only peripherally.

  Finally I said good-bye and set the phone back on the table. Hercules lifted his head and looked at me. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ruby. I couldn’t let it go.

  I remembered what Maggie had said. Ruby couldn’t even kill a mouse in her apartment. She hadn’t killed Agatha. Not deliberately. Not by accident. I didn’t care what evidence Marcus had. Ruby wasn’t that kind of person.

  If I hadn’t found that sliver of glass in my pants cuff, would Ruby be in jail right now? I couldn’t help feeling responsible. Was there anything I could say to Marcus to make him see he was wrong? No. He believed in evidence, not feelings. The only way I could convince him Ruby was innocent was to prove it.

  I looked into the cat’s green eyes. “You know Ruby didn’t kill Agatha,” I said. “How are we going to find out who did?”

  15

  Before I could get up, the phone rang. We both jumped. Herc teetered on my lap like a high-wire walker in a windstorm, and almost fell off.

  I put one hand on the cat and picked up the phone with the other. It was Rebecca.

  “Hi,” I said. “Maggie gave me your message from earlier.”

  “Oh, good,” she said. “I’m hoping you can do me a favor. It’s for Ruby, actually.”

  “Of course. What do you need?”

  “Her lawyer called. Ruby needs clothes for court in the morning. I have Violet’s keys, so I have a key to Ruby’s apartment, too.”

  “And you’d like me to go with you.” It was only a couple of days ago that I’d gone with Ruby to find clothes for Agatha.

  “If you don’t mind. Ruby’s style is quite a bit different from mine.”

  I smiled. “Mine, too, but between the two of us we should be able to find something that will work.”

  We settled on a time in the morning and said good night.

  “This is a sign,” I said.

  Hercules looked at the phone and then at me.

  “All right, so I don’t believe in signs,” I said. “But if I did, this would be one.” He just kept staring at me. “Rebecca wants me to help her find something for Ruby to wear to court. I’m going to meet her at Ruby’s apartment in the morning.” He still didn’t so much as blink. “Ruby’s apartment,” I repeated. “Where she probably took that bag of Agatha’s things Lita gave her. You know,” I leaned close to his furry black and white face. “That bag that may have the envelope everyone was fighting with her about.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “Agatha had that envelope with her, and it seems to have disappeared. Maybe it had
nothing to do with her death, but I have to start somewhere.”

  Hercules lifted a paw and smacked me on the arm.

  “Ow!” I said. It didn’t actually hurt, but I was trying to make a point. Why did he suddenly have to develop standards about me poking around in one of Marcus’s cases?

  “Look, all I want to do is look in that bag,” I said. “If Ruby wasn’t in jail you know she’d let me.” Hercules actually seemed to consider that thought. “I’d wait if I had the time”—I leaned in even closer—“but I don’t.”

  I set him on the floor, brushed off my lap and headed for the stairs. He was in front of me before I’d taken more than a couple of steps.

  “It’s for a good cause,” I said. “And I’m not asking you to help me.” I closed my eyes and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. I’d lost my mind. I really had this time. I was trying to justify to a cat what I was going to do.

  I opened my eyes and looked into deep green cat eyes in a cute, furry black-and-white face. He looked like any other house cat, ready to rub against my leg or chase dust balls under the bed. But he wasn’t someone’s cute, cuddly house pet.

  Would I have figured out how Gregor Easton died without Hercules? Or Owen? Herc had found a bead and a piece of very unique musical notation that helped me put all the pieces together. Not only had Easton’s killer been caught, but Rebecca and Everett had gotten back together.

  And when the house was broken into last summer, Hercules had gone for help while Owen had helped me fight off the intruder.

  I imagined for a moment telling Maggie or Roma that Owen and Hercules had helped me find Gregor Easton’s killer. They’d laugh. They’d think it was some kind of joke.

  But the cats had. Which didn’t mean they had to do it again.

  “Marcus isn’t going to look for another killer,” I said to the cat. “At best, all he’s going to do is look for more evidence against Ruby.” I shrugged. “She’s my friend. She’s Maggie’s friend. We’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”

  I turned and headed for the kitchen instead, trying to ignore the insanity of telling a cat we were going to have to agree to disagree.

  I filled the sink with hot water and bubbles and I was just starting to wash the glasses when I heard a noise. What the heck were those two doing now?

  I went to the living room doorway. Hercules was coming across the floor, backward, from the closet, dragging my messenger bag, the strap in his teeth. His way, I realized, of telling me he’d help.

  I walked over and crouched down to his level. He let go of the woven strap and looked at me. I suddenly had a giant lump in my throat. I kissed the top of his head. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Owen by the end of the couch doing his neglected-cat pose. I reached out my right hand to him. “I love you, too, fur ball,” I said. He scooted over and leaned against the side of my leg.

  We were the Three Musketeers. We were Batman and Robin and a librarian.

  We were probably nuts.

  16

  I got up Monday morning to warmer weather and no snow. While Hercules and Owen ate, I sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

  I was having major second thoughts. Maybe I should wait until Ruby was out on bail, then get her to let me check the bag. But what if she doesn’t make bail? a voice in my head asked.

  Hercules finished his breakfast, walked over to the messenger bag I’d hung over one of the chairs the night before and gave it a swat with one paw.

  “No,” I said.

  He hit the bag again.

  I took it off the back of the chair and set it on the seat. “I’m happy you’ve decided to help,” I said. “I really am. But I can’t take you with me. How would I explain that to Rebecca?”

  He jumped, landing on the chair seat and sending the nylon bag to the floor. Then he turned and stared defiantly at me.

  “Oh, like that’s going to work.” I scooped the bag from the floor and set it on top of the fridge.

  I should have known he wasn’t going to give up easily. He hopped down and headed for the porch.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  Owen glanced up from his food, decided he had no dog—or in this case, cat—in this fight and went back to eating. I set my cup down and scrambled after Hercules. I knew if he wanted to he could get outside on his own. On the other hand, how likely was that? Outside meant snow, cold and wet feet.

  That wasn’t going to stop him. He was already in the yard. Hercules had committed to the plan and he was going to see it through. I yanked on my boots and hurried after him. He was halfway around the house, walking slowly, almost gingerly, stopping every few steps to shake one paw or another.

  “Hercules, c’mon,” I called. It was cold and I didn’t have a jacket. I hugged myself, trying to stay warm. He looked back over his shoulder at me. “I can’t take you,” I said.

  He headed for the driveway again.

  This was stupid. I lunged for him, intending to scoop him up and go back inside. He darted forward, faster than I’d ever seen him move in the snow. I overreached, skidded on a small patch of ice and went sprawling on the path.

  Hercules turned and craned his neck toward me.

  “I’m fine,” I grumped. I got slowly to my feet, brushing off the snow that clung to my sweater and pants. The heel of my left hand was red where it had scrapped along the frozen snow. I looked down at the cat. “You can come,” I said. “This is completely insane, but you can come.”

  He lifted one front paw and shook it, then gave a pitiful-sounding meow. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said. I bent and picked him up. “I’m the one who went tail over teakettle on the ice, and you’re the one who’s getting carried.”

  He snuggled into the crook of my arm and gave me a self-satisfied smirk.

  Inside I set Hercules on the kitchen floor and brushed off the last bits of snow sticking to my sweater. The side of my hand stung where it had scrapped across the ground. Owen and Hercules exchanged looks, then Owen turned to stare at me. Again I wondered if they shared come kind of cat telepathy. Considering everything else they could do it wasn’t that far-fetched.

  On one of the shelves in the hall closet I found a piece of orange fake fur. I stuffed it in the bottom of the messenger bag. Hercules came over, looked inside and shook his head.

  “It’s left over from the mad-scientist costume I wore at Halloween,” I said. “It’ll be warm.”

  Maggie had made me a fabulous mad-scientist outfit—part Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein, part Beaker from the Muppets—including a custom hairpiece from orange fake fur.

  “Try it,” I said. Hercules stuck one paw the bag. Then the other. Then he climbed in all the way. He kneaded the bottom with his paws and finally lay down.

  I got my coat, pulled on my boots, and carefully swung Hercules over my shoulder. “We’ll be back soon,” said I said to Owen, who was watching from under the table. “You got money for bail if we need it?”

  He meowed.

  “Good to know.”

  I walked quickly down the hill and over to Violet’s house. Between them, Rebecca and Ruby had been keeping an eye on the house. Violet was gone for the foreseeable future. Ruby had moved into the apartment over the converted carriage house just before Violet left.

  The steps up to the apartment were at the back of the building. I set the messenger bag down on the floor of the covered porch at the top of the stairs. Herc popped his head out and looked around. “Not a sound,” I warned. “Not a meow, not a rumble, not even a burp. Rebecca will be here any minute.”

  I bent down to close the top of the bag. He jumped out, looked right and left and then and disappeared through the door before I could grab him.

  I was never going to get used to that.

  I dropped down into a crouch. Hercules was definitely gone. He could pass through any solid object—doors, six-inch-thick walls, concrete foundations. “Hercules, get back out h
ere,” I hissed at the door.

  Nothing.

  “I’m not kidding. You are in big, big trouble. Get out here now.”

  It was an empty threat. It wasn’t like I could go in and fetch him. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Then I leaned in close to the bottom panel of the door and called the cat’s name.

  Again, nothing.

  “Are you looking for secret panel?” a voice behind me said. “Because I can promise you there isn’t one.”

  Startled, I almost fell over. Rebecca was standing in the porch doorway. Heart pounding, I stood up.

  “Good morning,” she said. She gestured at the door. “It’s a lovely door, isn’t it? But not nearly as nice as the original wooden one. It had a squeak in the winter and it stuck in the summer.” She didn’t seem to think it was strange that I’d been “examining” the door.

  “I like old houses,” I said lamely.

  “Me, too,” Rebecca said. “But I admit I like doors that close and windows that keep the wind out.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

  I stepped back to let her slip the key in the lock, bending to grab the strap of my bag. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Hercules wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of the floor, blinking at us, when Rebecca opened the door.

  He wasn’t.

  I set the messenger bag on the floor next to my boots, close to the door, hoping the cat would take the hint and climb in while we were in the bedroom.

  Rebecca held up a small piece of pale green paper. “I have a list.”

  I took it from her and looked it over. The underwear, and coat would be easy. I knew Ruby had a dark wool coat. She usually wore it with a fuzzy orange hat and scarf. I wasn’t so sure about the plain white blouse and I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in a dark skirt.

  I smiled at Rebecca. “Let’s see what we can find.” I knew I had a simple dark skirt. If we couldn’t find anything that seemed right for court, I’d send that and a handful of safety pins.

  The bedroom was painted a soft shade of lilac. And the bed was covered with a deeper violet spread and heaped with pillows. Ruby had painted tiny stars on the ceiling. I looked around. Agatha’s bag was sitting on an old nursery rocking chair in the corner. Thankfully I didn’t see Hercules anywhere.