By the time I’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt the chicken soup I’d left simmering in the slow cooker was done. I put it in the refrigerator after having a taste—and sharing it with the boys. I was going to have supper with Marcus but that wasn’t for another hour and a half. I was restless, unsettled by what I’d learned from Sandra Godfrey and still a little uncomfortable about that encounter with Victor.
“I’m going to vacuum,” I announced to Owen. He was headed for the basement but changed course and made his way toward the back door instead. I let him into the porch and then opened the door to the backyard.
Hercules was already sitting on the footstool in the living room, eyes fixed on my iPod dock. I got the vacuum cleaner out then slipped my iPod in the dock and started our favorite playlist.
Hercules bopped his head from side to side and I vacuumed as we sang along to the music of Mr. Barry Manilow, which always managed to put both of us in a good mood. Owen, not so much. We did rousing versions of “Copacabana” and “Daybreak” complete with a little choreography, and by the time we were halfway through “I Made It Through the Rain” I felt better.
Once the entire house had been vacuumed I shut off the iPod and made some hot chocolate. I sat at the table with Hercules on my lap and told him what I’d learned from Sandra. I’d set my messenger bag and my keys on the table when I’d come in and now Hercules reached up and batted the keys onto the floor. He looked at me.
“You’re a little heavy-handed with the symbolism,” I said. “But you’re right. We need to find that key.”
chapter 15
As she often was, Micah was waiting for me on Marcus’s back deck. She seemed to share the same prescience that I’d seen in Owen. Her whiskers twitched and she sniffed at the canvas bag I was carrying.
“Chicken soup,” I said. “He’ll probably let you taste it.”
She made a satisfied “Mrr,” jumped down and led the way over to the back door.
Marcus was at the sink, washing lettuce. For a moment I just enjoyed looking at him. I thought about what Mary had once said about him: “I know what really matters about a person is what’s inside, and he is a good man inside, but that candy shell outside looks pretty dang delicious!” I had to admit she was right.
Micah meowed loudly then, as if to announce me, and Marcus looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said. He dropped the lettuce into the strainer and wrapped me in a slightly wet hug. His mouth covered mine and I forgot all about his wet hand on the back of my neck.
I forgot about pretty much everything.
He finally let me go and I noticed that his face was as flushed as mine felt. “I have to stop doing that if we want supper,” he said. “And we do want supper, right?”
“Yes?” I said. The fact that I’d answered as a question made him laugh. I set my bag on the chair, lifted out the two Mason jars of chicken soup and handed them to him. “For lunch next week,” I said.
“Chicken noodle?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
I nodded.
“Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head as he moved to put them in the fridge.
For the first time I noticed that the small table in the middle of the room had been set with extra care, a tablecloth instead of placemats, and four fat pillar candles. “This is beautiful,” I said. “Is this for me?”
“It is,” he said, moving back to the sink to finish washing the lettuce. “Given the past couple of weeks I thought maybe you could use a little romance.”
“I definitely could,” I said as I slipped out of my jacket.
“Good. We have about forty minutes until we eat, which means we have about forty minutes to talk about the case.” He glanced at me. “I know that you want to.”
“All right,” I agreed, dropping onto the closest chair. Micah came to lean against my leg. “Did you know the day before he died Leo got one of those pieces of mail they found at the post office?”
Marcus hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he finally said.
“Did you know there was a key in the envelope?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “A key?”
“Sandra Godfrey delivered the letter and Leo opened it in front of her. She said the only thing inside was a silver key.”
“What kind of a key?” he asked. “A house key? A car key? One of those little keys for a diary?”
“I don’t know. All Sandra said was that it was a silver key. Marcus, what if it was a car key?”
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s say it was.” He grabbed a carrot from the counter. “What are you thinking? That another car caused the accident that killed Meredith Janes twenty years ago and that someone, somehow got the key to that car and instead of talking to the police put it in an envelope and mailed it to her estranged husband?”
“No,” I said, reaching down to stroke Micah’s soft fur. She seemed to be following the conversation, which didn’t really surprise me. Like Owen and Hercules, Micah was a Wisteria Hill cat. “Even Owen wouldn’t let me get away with a theory as far-fetched as that.” I sighed. “It’s just that I can’t seem to let go of the idea that there’s a connection between what happened to Meredith Janes all those years ago and Leo’s murder.”
Marcus turned to look at me. “Why?” He gestured with the carrot. “Go ahead. Make your case.”
I tucked one leg up underneath me, getting a little more comfortable. Micah nuzzled my hand as if in encouragement. “All right,” I said. “First of all, there’s nothing that suggests what happened to Leo was some random act—a robbery gone wrong, for example.” I leaned sideways for a moment so I was in his line of vision. “I’m assuming I’m right about that.”
“Keep going,” was all he said.
“So it was personal. Thanks to that video Mariah Taylor filmed, Simon has an alibi.”
Marcus smiled as he chopped the carrot. “You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.”
I smiled back at him. “I thought that was implied,” I teased. I was getting a kink in my back so I lifted Micah onto my lap. She immediately stretched across my legs. “Harry had a reason to kill Leo—at least in theory.” I held up a hand before Marcus could object. “Yes, I know killing someone over an old watch is a pretty weak reason for murder, but people have been killed for less.”
“Agreed,” he said, dropping the chopped carrot into what I was guessing was our salad.
“More important, no one who knows Harry would ever believe he could kill anyone and he also has an alibi. That leaves two people: Elias Braeden and Leo’s late wife’s best friend, Celia Hunter.”
Marcus turned to face me. “I don’t see how Celia Hunter could have killed Leo. I doubt she has the upper-body strength to swing that piece of sculpture. As for Elias Braeden, he was on the road between Minneapolis and here.”
I held up one finger. “Just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean Celia couldn’t have the strength to have swung that sculpture. Look at Mary. People mistake her for just a sweet, cookie-baking grandma but she could probably take you down with just one roundhouse kick.”
“Point taken,” he said.
I held up a second finger. “And Elias’s alibi is weak. He could have left a little bit earlier than he says he did or driven a lot faster. There’s some wiggle room. I think we need to look at both of them anyway.”
Micah meowed loudly.
“See? She agrees with me,” I said, smiling at the little cat.
Marcus snapped on the oven light and bent down to look through the door. I was so busy watching him that I completely missed what he said. He turned and looked expectantly at me.