“I’m sorry, I got sidetracked. What did you say?”
“I said okay; let’s start with Celia Hunter.”
“All right,” I said. “Didn’t you think it was odd she came here just to show Leo that letter she received? I don’t see why she thought it was so important.”
He nodded. “I had the same thought.”
“And she was at Leo’s apartment no more than half an hour before his murder.”
“The woman has an alibi, Kathleen,” Marcus said. “Leo Janes got a phone call from a former colleague at the university where he used to teach just as she was leaving. He heard Leo say good-bye to her, not to mention Mrs. Hunter isn’t tall enough or strong enough to have killed him.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
He set down the cast-iron frying pan he’d just picked up and gave me a puzzled look. “Unless she was wearing stilts, yes, I’m sure. So is the medical examiner. The murder weapon was that piece of abstract metal art. It’s heavy. Too heavy for Celia Hunter to have picked up. And even if she happened to have a bionic arm that we didn’t know about she was too short to have delivered the blow that killed Leo.”
Micah sat up then and jumped down to the floor. She moved over to sit next to the stove, either to see what was going to be happening there next or because she’d decided to switch sides in the discussion.
I pulled my other leg up and rested my chin on my knee. “What if he was bending over?” I said.
Marcus picked up the pan again, set it on the burner and turned on the heat.
“Think about it. This wasn’t a planned murder or the killer would have had a weapon with her—or him. What if Leo bent down to pick something up and Celia saw her opportunity?”
“Except that piece of artwork is solid metal.” He frowned at the pan. “Could you swing a twenty-pound bag of potatoes at my head?” he asked without looking at me.
“No,” I said. “But Maggie probably could.”
Marcus did glance at me then. “Okay, but how about Rebecca?”
I shook my head. “No, but I think Celia’s stronger than we both know. I found photos online of her from this past spring as part of a medal-winning dragon boat team.” I put my hand around the upper part of my left arm. “She has actual muscles here. I don’t think it’s that unrealistic that she could have lifted that statue.”
“So what’s her motive?” He added a little butter and some olive oil to the pan.
“That’s where I’m stuck,” I said with a shrug.
“Okay, so what’s your case for Elias Braeden?” He set two small bacon-wrapped filets into the pan. Micah’s whiskers began to twitch as the smell of searing beef filled the kitchen.
“Leo took his casino for about a million dollars. And Elias doesn’t know how he did that so it leaves him open for it to happen again, or at least it did while Leo was alive. Add to that he worked for Idris Blackthorne at one time. Idris had a reputation, and not all of that was just talk.”
“So his motive is?”
“Money. Or in the heat of the moment, anger, especially if Leo wouldn’t explain how he’d managed to win so much money.”
“I’ve seen those motives before,” Marcus agreed. He gave the pan a little shake and then turned the meat. “Do you happen to know if Celia or Elias are right-handed or left-handed?”
I closed my eyes for a moment and pictured Celia picking up things at the flea market. “It’s possible that Celia is left-handed,” I said. “I don’t know about Elias.”
“I think you need to give up on the idea that Celia Hunter is the killer,” he said. “And I know you think there’s some connection to what happened to Leo’s former wife twenty years ago, but I think your connection is just a coincidence.”
“Wait a minute, the killer is left-handed?”
Marcus held up both hands like he was surrendering. “I didn’t say that.”
I grinned at him. “You didn’t have to.”
He put our filets in the oven to finish cooking then pulled me up out of my chair so he could kiss me again, and for a while I forgot all about Elias Braeden and Celia Hunter.
• • •
Sunday dawned cold and wet. Eddie was coaching at hockey camp in Red Wing and Marcus was going along to help and to rub elbows with some former Wild players. I had been supposed to spend the afternoon with Roma but she called about ten to tell me a truck towing a trailer full of Angora show goats had gone off the road just outside of Lake City. She was on her way there to help with the injured animals.
I was at loose ends after lunch so I decided to go down to the library to repair some of the books that I knew had been piling up in the workroom. Neither Owen nor Hercules was willing to dash through the rain to the truck but I didn’t mind having the library to myself. As much as I loved it when the hundred-year-old-plus building was full of life, I liked the occasional moment when I could walk through and appreciate all the beautiful details that made the library feel like my second home: Oren’s carved sun over the doors, the mosaic tile floor, the intricate, wide woodwork that Oren had matched so well it was impossible to tell where old ended and new began, and of course shelf after shelf of books.
I pulled into the parking lot and when I got out of the truck a sleek silver Mercedes pulled in beside me. Elias Braeden was behind the wheel. He got out and came around the back of the car. “Kathleen, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.
“Were you following me?” I said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need to talk.”
“What about?” I said. I was careful to keep some distance between us.
“Leo Janes.”
I nodded. “All right.” It was drizzling lightly, not enough to be called a shower, just enough to be annoying.
“Could we go inside?” Elias said. He was wearing a gray trench coat over dark pants. I had on my purple quilted jacket and a black-and-white scarf at my neck. Neither one of us would be cold staying outside.
“I’m good here,” I said. I put one hand on the side of the truck. I didn’t think Elias was stupid enough to try anything, but I had a couple of hockey sticks in the bed of the truck from a game of driveway hockey with Marcus. Maybe I couldn’t swing a twenty-pound bag of potatoes at Elias’s head, but I could swing a hockey stick if I had to.
“The woman you were with in the café on Friday. She told you she saw me with Leo.” He stood with his feet apart, hands in his pockets.
“You lied to me,” I said.
“No, I didn’t. I told you I didn’t see Leo the day he died. I didn’t. I went to see him the day before, not to threaten him but to offer him a security job. He turned me down.”
“Can you prove this?”
Elias nodded. “Leo turned me down but he suggested I hire one of his former grad students. I didn’t tell you that because we were still negotiating her contract, but now that it’s signed you and the police are welcome to talk to her. She’ll confirm that Leo called her about my offer.” He held out a piece of paper. “This is her name and her contact information.”
I put the piece of paper in my pocket. “Thank you,” I said. I hesitated. “I apologize for thinking the worst of you.”
He smiled. “No apology necessary. I admire your loyalty and your tenacity. If you ever want to make a career change, please call me.” He got back in his car and pulled out of the lot.
I headed for the front entrance. It seemed pretty clear that Elias wasn’t Leo’s killer. Was Marcus wrong about Celia Hunter, I wondered? Was I right? I didn’t know what to think. I was glad for the distraction working on the books would give me.
Several of the repairs were minor and I breezed quickly through the first six books. I realized that the seventh was going to need Abigail’s expertise. She’d taken a course on conservation and had been able to work on several of the old books in our reference section. That was where this book had come from. The stitching had come loose and several pages had fallen out. One page in particular seemed to have been sticking out beyond the book cover, unprotected by it, for some time. The edge was worn in several places and the paper was faded a lighter color about a quarter of an inch in from the edge the entire length of the page. I’d seen another page faded and damaged in the same way just recently. I should put that book aside for Abigail as well, I thought. I looked through the other books in the pile but I couldn’t find it. Maybe Susan or Mary would know? I’d ask them both on Monday. Mia, too.