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 since 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.
“Yes.” The smile disappeared from his face. “Kathleen, I know that he was murdered. I think you’re far too polite to ask the next obvious question but I’m not nearly that well-mannered. For the record, I didn’t kill Leo Janes.”
I thought it was a little strange for him to say that.
“I did come to this area on business. Ruby may have told you I’m thinking about buying the Silver Casino.”
“She did.”
“I did want to talk to Leo once I learned the man was in Mayville Heights, too, but I give you my word that I didn’t kill him. I didn’t even see Leo the day he died.” He gestured with one hand. He seemed relaxed, confident. “And for the record, I was on the road between Minneapolis and Mayville Heights on Friday night.”
“I’ve offended you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
Elias shook his head. “No offense taken, Kathleen. I know the rumors and the stories about businessmen like me, but I don’t beat people up in back alleys when they cheat me. That’s what lawyers are for.” He glanced at his watch again. “I have to get going,” he said. “Thank you for the tour.”
I watched him make his way to the main doors, raising a hand in acknowledgement to Abigail at the front desk. Elias Braeden was an intriguing mix of bluntness and charm, but he had worked for Idris Blackthorne, so no matter what he said about leaving his problems to be handled by his lawyers I couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be “hands-on” if he felt the situation warranted it. Could he have gotten hands-on with Leo Janes?
• • •
Roma and Maggie showed up at five to one. “Hi. What are you two doing here?” I asked.
“We came to steal you for lunch,” Maggie said, grinning and holding up a take-out bag from Eric’s.
“Do you have time?” Roma asked.
“She does,” Susan said, moving behind me with an empty book cart. She smiled at me and pushed her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose. “Abigail and I can close. There isn’t that much to do. It’s been dead quiet all morning.” She made a shooing motion with one hand. “Go!”
“I have time,” I said.
Maggie smiled at Susan. “Thanks,” she said. She turned to me. “It’s beautiful outside. How about a picnic in your gazebo?”
“I’d like that,” I said.
I’d met Maggie when Rebecca convinced me to try her tai chi class. Mags was the instructor, tall and slim and unbelievably flexible, with cropped blond curls and green eyes that reminded me of Hercules. Our friendship had begun the night I arrived early for class and found her online at the website for the popular celebrity dance show Gotta Dance, voting for the Today show’s Matt Lauer. I was a fan of the show as well, although cutie Kevin Sorbo had been getting my votes.
Tai chi was also where I’d met Roma. When the class had formed a circle to begin our warm-ups Roma had been beside me. She was new to the group as well and we’d bonded over our mutual inability to master White Crane Spreads Wings. I sometimes wondered if Mayville Heights would have started to feel like home so quickly if I had turned Rebecca’s invitation down.
We walked around the building to the tall wooden gazebo in the back overlooking the water. Maggie had brought turkey-and-bacon sandwiches on thick slices of honey-granola bread. Roma handed me her insulated travel mug. “Coffee,” she said with a smile.
“Because how could we forget that?” Maggie said drily. She and Roma were drinking lemonade.
I ate about half of my sandwich and then eyed the two of them. “So what’s up?” I asked.
Roma set down her lemonade. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“If you’d like me to feed the cats for you next week the answer is yes.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. Kathleen, I know you already said you’d be a bridesmaid, but I’d like you to be my maid of honor.”
I stared at her. I hadn’t expected the question. “But what about Maggie?” I said. “She’s the reason you and Eddie met. She should be your maid of honor.”
Roma and Eddie had gotten together after Maggie had made a full-sized, very lifelike Eddie Sweeney mannequin for a display about the history of sport in this part of the state for Winterfest a couple of years ago. The only way she’d been able to get Faux Eddie from her studio to the community center was in the front seat of Roma’s SUV. That had started a rumor that Roma and the Minnesota Wild star were seeing each other, and pretty soon it wasn’t just a rumor.
“I may have indirectly gotten things started, but there wouldn’t be a wedding if you hadn’t urged Roma to throw caution to the wind and listen to her heart.” Maggie paused, a dill pickle halfway to her mouth. “And that was a lot of clichés in one sentence.”