That got me the hint of a smile. “Okay,” he said.
“Burtis didn’t kill his ex-wife.”
He set his cup on my desk. “Right now all we’re trying to do is put together what happened on Thursday night. No one is focusing on Burtis, or anyone else, for that matter. Just the facts.”
I shifted in my chair so I was facing him a little more directly. “Burtis wouldn’t kill anyone,” I said. “To me, that’s a fact.”
“You like him,” Marcus said.
I nodded. “Yes. He’s my friend. No different from Oren or Harry or Everett.”
I leaned on the arm of the chair. “Seriously, Marcus, if Burtis was going to kill someone, do you see him doing it with a chocolate? A two-by-four, maybe. Or a sledgehammer. But doctoring a chocolate? There’s too much subterfuge involved. It’s way too indirect. That’s not Burtis.”
“He has had a couple of brushes with the law in the past,” Marcus said, rubbing his thumb around the rim of his cup.
“I doubt either one of them had anything to do with someone’s death,” I said. “Anyway, what reason would he have had for killing Dayna? She’d been out of his life for more than twenty years.”
He raked a hand back through his hair and looked away, out my office window, just a bit too soon. I stopped myself from putting my hand on his leg.
“Marcus, what aren’t you saying?” I asked. “You know something about Burtis. More than just him arguing with Dayna and handing her that box of chocolates.”
In the past we would have argued and he would have gotten up and left. Instead, he got to his feet and I did the same.
“This stays between us,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair back off my face. “It’ll hit the paper tomorrow because it seems like Bridget has all the same sources we do.”
“I won’t say anything,” I said.
Marcus folded his arms over his midsection and shrugged. “Burtis and Dayna Chapman were still legally married.”
12
Marcus had to get back to the police station. He kissed my cheek and I repeated my promise to keep what he’d just told me to myself. The fact that Burtis and Dayna had still been married when she died didn’t change my belief that Burtis had had nothing to do Dayna’s death, but I realized it might matter to other people.
Harry Junior came in just after one o’clock. “Thank you for putting the sand down,” I said, walking over to meet him by the main doors.
“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling off his heavy gloves. “I’m going to keep on that for a while. Thorsten has enough on his plate. There’s a leak in the roof at the community center.”
“Again?” I exhaled loudly. “He just got the last one patched.” The community center roof was leakier than a wooden rowboat that had been left out all winter.
“Thanks for getting your book expert to look at those old readers,” Harry said. “We can use the money. I think there’s more patch up there than there is original roof. Thorsten has someone coming to take a look tomorrow.” He shook his head. “The whole building needs work. It’s older than I am.”
“Wow, that is old,” I said, completely deadpan.
One eyebrow went up. “Better be careful, Kathleen, or I might just recommend you to head up the committee to renovate the community center.”
“Do we have a committee to renovate the community center?” I asked.
Harry scratched his stubbled chin. “No. But I think we’re going to need one.” He gave his head a shake. “But that’s not why I stopped in. The old man sent me to invite you to dinner tonight. I’m sorry about the short notice.”
The only plans I had were dinner with Owen and Hercules and maybe a load or two of laundry after that. The short notice didn’t really matter.
“He’s been chewing on something all weekend,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have a clue about what’s on his mind. I’m pretty sure he wants to talk to you. He sure as hell isn’t interested in talking to me.”
“I’d love to come,” I said. “What can I bring?”
“Just yourself,” he said. “About six o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” I smiled at him. “Are you joining us?”
Harry gave a snort of laughter. “Hard to tell, Kathleen. So far you’re the only one who’s been invited.”
I showed Harry where Mary and I had decided to put the second tree and told him about Ruby’s ornaments.
“I should be able to bring the tree first thing tomorrow,” he said.
“Okay, we’ll have the space ready,” I said.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet, even for a Monday, which gave Mary and me time to rearrange things and bring the big tree stand up from the library basement.
Clouds were moving in over the water as I drove up the hill and my left wrist was aching, both signs that we were going to get some snow. Hercules was waiting for me on the bench in the back porch when I got home.
“This is a nice surprise,” I said, leaning over to scoop him up. Not only did he dislike snow and rain, but he wasn’t that crazy about cold, either.
“I’m home,” I called when I stepped into the kitchen. I waited. No answering meow from Owen. “Either he didn’t hear me or he’s doing something he’s not supposed to be doing,” I said to Hercules as I set him down on the floor. I hung up my coat and set my hat and gloves by the heat. There was still no sign of Owen.
Herc stretched and followed me upstairs. I changed into jeans and a sweater and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.
“Merow?” he said, head cocked to one side as though he was asking a question.
“I’m going out for supper.”
He seemed to consider my words for a moment and then he turned and headed for the door. I knew what that meant.
“You can’t come with me,” I called after him. “I’m going out to the Taylors’.”
He stopped in his tracks and made a huffy sound in the back of his throat.
I walked over to him. “Do you really see yourself having dinner with Boris?” I asked.
He looked up at me with half-lidded eyes. “Murrr,” he grumbled.
“Yes, I know Boris is a dog,” I said. “But that’s not really his fault.”
Hercules didn’t look convinced.
“C’mon, let’s go down to the kitchen and you can test the new batch of stinky crackers.”
That seemed to cheer him up immensely and he headed for the stairs.
We found Owen in the kitchen, head almost on the floor as he peered under the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked over his shoulder at me and gave a sharp meow.
“Don’t tell me there are chicken parts under the fridge again?” I said. I got down on my hands and knees so I could look for myself. Just under the edge of the refrigerator, I could see a brilliant yellow feather.
“Give me a minute,” I said, getting to my feet. I got my wooden mixing spoon, got back on the floor again and batted out a small yellow chicken on the first pass.
“Keep those things away from the refrigerator,” I warned. “One of these days one is going to get stuck under there, beyond the reach of this spoon, and I’m not moving this great big refrigerator to get it.”
Owen sniffed the catnip chicken suspiciously, then picked it up in his mouth. He looked at me, golden eyes narrowed, glared at his brother and stalked off to the living room.
Hercules watched him go and then shifted his attention to his bowl.
“Yes, I know I promised you stinky crackers,” I said. I got fresh water for both cats, gave Herc a stack of the sardine crackers and left a little pile in Owen’s dish.
“I won’t be late,” I said to Hercules. He was already into the crackers and all I got was a low murp, which might have been more about his enthusiasm for the crackers than an acknowledgment that he’d heard me—or even cared.
I laced up my low, heavy-treaded snow boots, pulled on my blue jacket with the hood and grabbed my purse, keys and gloves. I’d stopped and bought a couple of tallboys on the way home. As far as I knew, Harrison’s doctor allowed him to have the occasional drink. I wasn’t sure about Harry Junior, though. I could end up in the doghouse with him.