“Uh-huh. Unless we can figure out whom they’re of and return them—which would be the best outcome. I don’t want all of these photos to just end up in a box on a shelf. I’d like to know who all those people are.”
Maggie picked up a five-by-seven image of a group of kids standing arm in arm at the water’s edge. “We could see if Lita recognizes anyone. And maybe Harrison Taylor.”
I leaned against the long worktable. “If we show the pictures to enough people we probably could figure out who they’re all of, but as I said at the meeting, I don’t think they’d stand up to being handled so much.”
Maggie was staring off into space. I knew there was an idea rolling over in her mind. That’s why I’d asked her to get involved in the first place. I knew she’d probably be able to come up with some way to display the photographs and entice people to come in to see them. “I have an idea, Kath,” she said, “but I need to check on a couple of things first.”
“I knew you’d be able to figure something out.” I looked in the direction of my office. “I have about an hour or so’s worth of paperwork to do if you want to hang around for a while and look through those.”
She nodded, blond head already bent over the pile of pictures in front of her on the table.
I’d been working for about half an hour when Marcus called. “Would you mind if I bailed on our plans and went to Minneapolis with Eddie?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’d probably spend the evening sobbing into my pillow.”
“Even if I promised to make it up to you by cooking dinner tomorrow night at your house and making pudding cake and doing all the dishes?”
“Hmmm,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “That does sound delicious. Okay, you have a deal. Why are you and Eddie headed to Minneapolis?”
“Guy he played with retired a couple of years ago from the LA Kings. He’s been doing hockey-skills workshops all over the country. He’s in Minneapolis for some kind of meeting. Eddie’s going to take him to dinner and pick his brain about running a hockey school. I’m going along to drive and think of things that Eddie forgets.”
Eddie had plans to start a hockey school in Mayville Heights now that he was retired and he and Roma were getting married.
“Have fun,” I said. “I’ll be sad and lonely while you’re gone but I’m pretty sure that pudding cake you mentioned will cure that. You will be making a double batch, right?”
Marcus laughed. “For you, absolutely.”
“I could go out and check on Micah,” I said. “It’ll be late when you get back.”
“Umm, yeah, if it’s not too much trouble. I was gone all morning and she gave me the silent treatment when I came back. I gave her some of your sardine crackers. I’m not sure I’m back on her good side, though.”
“I think she’s like Owen. He’ll milk being miffed as long as he can to get as many treats as possible,” I said, swinging slowly from side to side in the chair. I was almost positive it wasn’t the only thing the two cats had in common.
Marcus said he’d call me in the morning and I said good-bye. It took me another twenty minutes or so to finish up my paperwork. I drove Maggie over to her studio and went in to take a look at her latest collage.
One my way out I met Ruby coming up the stairs. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “How’s your day going?” She was wearing her Ginger Did It Backward in High Heels T-shirt.
“Good,” I said. “Elias came in this morning. I gave him a tour.”
She smiled. “Thank you. He has this thing for old buildings. He grew up in some pretty bare-bones places. I think that’s why.”
“You’ve known Elias a long time.”
“All my life.” She frowned. “Is there some kind of problem?”
I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “When he was in the library before—the first time—Leo Janes was there and I had the feeling they knew each other.”
Ruby shrugged. “So? Elias lived here years ago. It’s a small town. A lot of different people know each other.”
“I know, but he told me one of the reasons he came to town was to talk to Leo.”
“Maybe they knew each other when they were kids.”
I shook my head. “He thought Leo had cheated him out of a lot of money—more than a million dollars.”
She laughed. “Good dog, this isn’t some mobster movie, Kathleen. Elias didn’t have Leo Janes whacked. He’s a reputable businessman. He belongs to the Chamber of Commerce. He sponsors a kids’ hockey team.”
“Hey, I like Elias,” I said, holding up a hand. “And I’m not saying he had Leo killed, but is it possible that someone who worked for him went to see Leo and things got out of hand?”
She shook her head. “No.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Look, I’m not saying that Elias doesn’t have a bit of a reputation for being hardheaded, and yeah, some of that probably does come from working for my grandfather, but there’s a line he wouldn’t cross and hurting someone is it. Trust me.”
I didn’t see any point in continuing the conversation. “Thanks,” I said.
Ruby smiled. “Hey, no problem,” she said. She moved past me and I continued down the stairs.
“Trust me,” she’d said. I wanted to. I did. I wanted to trust Elias Braeden, too. I just wasn’t sure if I should.
I left Riverarts and headed out to Marcus’s house. There was no sign of Micah in the backyard. I let myself into the kitchen and called for the little ginger tabby. Nothing. In the middle of the table there was a loaf of bread and a Mason jar filled with the Jam Lady’s marshmallows and a note from Marcus. I love you, the note said, and it was signed with several large X’s for kisses.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
At that moment Micah appeared on the empty chair beside me. Not launched herself from the floor or jumped from another chair. Appeared, as in the opposite of disappeared.
For a moment the air almost seemed electric, the way it did before a thunderstorm. Micah cocked her head to one side and meowed at me.
“Does Marcus know you can do this?” I asked the cat and immediately felt foolish. Did I really think she was going to answer me?
The cat wrinkled her whiskers and meowed again almost as though she were saying, “Maybe.” And given what I’d just seen her do, who was I to say that she wasn’t?
I thought about all the times lately that Marcus had told me the little cat had “snuck” unseen into his SUV. “I’m going to have to tell him,” I said. “As soon as this case is over I’m going to have to tell him.”
I left Micah with some sardine crackers and a promise to bring an actual tin of sardines next time I came out. She licked her whiskers and I had the feeling that the ability to disappear wasn’t the only skill she shared with Owen.
When I got home there was no sign of Owen, but one of my hats was in the middle of the kitchen floor. I bent down to pick it up and discovered that there was a funky chicken head inside. I sat back on my heels. “Do you have any idea what this is all about?” I said to Hercules, who had just come in from the living room.
“Mrr,” he said, blinking his green eyes at me. In other words, he didn’t know, either.
Hercules had gotten his name from Roman mythology. At least that was what I told people. For the most part it was the truth. He had been named after Hercules, the son of Zeus. As portrayed by the very yummy Kevin Sorbo. Or as Maggie liked to teasingly describe him, Mr. Six-Pack-in-a-Loincloth.
Owen, on the other hand, was named because of the book A Prayer For Owen Meany—John Irving—which I’d been reading when I brought the boys home. Whenever I put the book down Owen sat on it. His name was either going to be Owen or Irving and to me he didn’t look like an Irving.
I dumped the soggy chicken head in the trash and shook my hat over the can to get the bits of catnip out. I went upstairs to change, trailed by Hercules. I told him about my day and he murped at intervals as though he was actually listening.