Dear Celia,
I hope you don’t throw this letter away as soon as you see it’s from me. You probably hate me for what I’ve done, but you couldn’t hate me more than I hate myself. Victor and Leo may look the same but they’re very different men. I thought Victor was exciting, and he seemed to know what I was thinking in a way Leo didn’t, as if he could see into my heart somehow.
I love him. I will see you soon.
Love, Merry
My chest hurt. Nowhere in the letter was there a mention of Simon. I wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea.
I handed the letter back to Simon, who returned it to the envelope and handed that across the table to Celia. “Thank you,” he said.
The older woman pressed her lips together for a moment. She seemed to be struggling with some kind of emotion—sadness, perhaps—coupled with a bit of loyalty to an old friend. “She loved you very much,” she said. “Please don’t doubt that.”
“Have a safe trip home,” Simon said.
She had been dismissed and realized it. She got to her feet, nodded at both of us and made her way to the exit.
Simon turned to me. “Pizza?” he asked. A waiter was already making his way toward us.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“You couldn’t have had time to have dinner before you got here. You must be hungry.” He was all business. “So how about pizza?”
“Umm, all right. Yes,” I said.
Simon gave our order to the waiter. Once the young man was on his way to the kitchen Simon turned his attention to me. “I know you’re worried that . . .” He paused. “I’m all right, Kathleen. That letter didn’t change my opinion of Victor or my mother. It changes nothing.”
“Are you going to keep investigating?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t kill my father. And I’m going to find out who did.”
chapter 12
Harry showed up at the house about five to eight the next morning. He was going to do some repairs to Rebecca’s gazebo and the raised flower beds at the back of my yard. One of the perks of my job at the library was my little farmhouse. Since Everett owned the property all the yard work was taken care of as well.
I’d pulled my truck out in front of the house so Harry could use the driveway.
“Thanks for letting me park here,” he said. “Oren is still working at Rebecca’s and I’d like to stay out of his way if I can.”
Mariah came around the side of the house carrying a long extension cord and a tool box with a denim backpack that I recognized as being the same one she’d had with her at her grandfather’s over her shoulder. “Hey, Kathleen,” she said.
The high school kids had a day off due to teachers’ meetings.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” I said to Harry.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said.
I looked at Mariah. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
She nodded. “Please.”
“C’mon in,” I said beckoning at her. In the kitchen I got one of my stainless-steel travel mugs from the cupboard and poured her a cup. Then I indicated the cream and sugar so she could fix her coffee just the way she liked it.
She added three spoonfuls of sugar. “Dad got me up at six thirty,” she said by way of explanation.
“Owen got me up at six thirty, too,” I said.
Mariah smiled at me over the top of the mug as she took a drink. “Did he tell you getting up early builds character?”
“No,” I said. “I’m pretty sure all he was interested in was breakfast.”
She laughed and held up the cup. “Thank you. I’ll make sure I bring this back,” she said, and headed outside.
I’d just poured myself another cup of coffee when Owen came from the living room, walked purposefully through the kitchen and stopped in front of the door. He meowed loudly. I went over and opened it. He headed for the back door. I knew he wanted to see what Harry was doing. Both cats liked the gazebo. “Stay out of the way,” I reminded him as I let him into the backyard.
“Mrr,” he said, and then he was gone across the grass.
I stood for a moment on the steps, where I could see into Rebecca’s backyard. Mariah had set her coffee on the gazebo railing and stowed her backpack on the seat below it. I watched as she unrolled the long yellow extension cord and went to plug it into the outside outlet.
When I stepped back into the porch I found Hercules sitting on the bench looking out the window. He followed me into the kitchen and I found myself telling him about the letter from Simon’s mother as I gathered up the laundry. “I don’t know what I was hoping for,” I said. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there is no connection between Meredith Janes’s accident and Leo’s death.”
About ten thirty I walked my way across the kitchen floor to the back door. Hercules and I moved outside to sit on the steps, me with a cup of coffee—and him with a sardine cracker. We’d been sitting there about five minutes when I saw Owen coming across the grass. He had something in his mouth. What were the chances he hadn’t taken something that belonged to Harry?
I held out my hand as he came up the stairs and Owen dropped what looked to be a tiny piece of molded plastic in my hand. He looked at me with a very self-satisfied look on his face.
“What did you do?” I said.
“Merow,” he replied. He leaned over and nudged the small piece of orange plastic with his nose then looked at me.
Hercules leaned down and looked at my hand then looked at his brother. I’d had moments where it almost seemed like they could communicate without making a sound, and this was one of those times.
After a long moment, Hercules, like his brother, looked expectantly at me.
“Okay, you furry little kleptomaniac, what am I supposed to see here?” I picked up the piece of orange plastic by one end and held it up to study it. It was eight or nine inches long and at first I’d thought it was a disposable knife, but now I realized it wasn’t.
“It looks like an airplane propeller,” I said. I looked from Hercules to Owen, who both seemed to be waiting for me to make a connection.
A small airplane propeller.
Harry wasn’t a model maker as far as I knew. I turned the strip of plastic over in my fingers. Owen continued to stare unblinkingly at me and one of his ears twitched. He was getting annoyed that it was taking me so long to make the connection.
“All I see is a little propeller for a little airplane.” As I said the words aloud the last piece fell into place in my head. I looked from one cat to the other. “A drone is a little airplane.”
Owen sat down on the step, seemingly satisfied that I’d figured things out.
I looked across the yard. I could see Harry and Mariah working on the gazebo steps. What had he said more than once about his daughter? “She’s good with anything mechanical.”
I knew there was no way Harry had a drone, but could Mariah have one? Could she be the person who’d been following cars on the highway? And if she was, why was she doing it?
I sat there trying to make sense of everything when Harry came across the yard. “I’m just heading to the lumberyard for another one-by-six,” he said. “We’re just about finished with the gazebo and then we’ll start on the end of that raised bed of yours.”
“Thanks,” I said. I waited until I heard his truck pull out of the driveway and then I started across the backyard. Owen came with me. Hercules stayed on the steps.
Mariah was sweeping up sawdust inside the gazebo. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “Dad just went to get a couple of boards. He should be right back.”