“Good.” Susan picked up the vacuum with one hand and the hose with the other. She looked around the almost-deserted library. “What did the detective want?”
I didn’t see any reason not to tell her. “He still thinks Easton came back to the library Tuesday night.”
“No way,” Susan exclaimed, so vehemently her glasses slid down her nose. “He didn’t come back, Kathleen. I would have seen him.”
“That’s what I told Detective Gordon.” Just then a pretty redhead with two curly-haired toddlers, each clutching one of her hands, approached us. “Excuse me,” she said. “Could you tell me where the board books are?”
I smiled. “They’re in our new children’s section,” I said. “Let me show you.” I pointed them to the far end of the library, looked back at Susan and mouthed, Don’t worry. She rolled her eyes at me.
Will Redfern’s “boys” showed up about half an hour later and started working right away on the new circulation desk. About twenty minutes after that, the electrician walked into the building, just as I was coming down from my office. He looked like a slightly younger, much blonder version of Harry Taylor, who took care of the library grounds. He offered his hand. “Ms. Paulson? I’m Larry Taylor. Taylor Electric.”
“Please call me Kathleen,” I said. He had Harry’s green eyes. “Are you related to Harry?” I asked.
“Yep. Old Harry is my dad. Young Harry is my older brother. Harry, Harry and Larry—that’s us.” He grinned and I relaxed.
I explained briefly about the vacuum, the sparks and me flying backward through the air. Then I took him over to see the blackened outlet. He crouched down for a closer look. “I’ll have to have a look at the panel,” he said.
“It’s in the basement,” I said. “I’ll show you.”
He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I know where to find it.”
“Go ahead, then.”
I walked over to Susan, who was shelving reference books again. “Tell me that was Larry Taylor,” she said. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, dress tucked around her knees, slotting books onto a bottom shelf.
“It was.”
“Good. He’s like all the Taylors. He doesn’t know how to do a half-ass job at anything.”
“That’s a catchy slogan,” I said, handing her an oversized atlas. “I wonder if he has it on his business card.”
She made a face at me. I grinned back at her. “Could you help me carry a table over to the children’s department?”
“Sure thing.” She stood up and brushed her hands on her skirt.
We managed to get the table I’d put together across the library without banging into anything. Susan went back to shelving while I dragged the new table into place and set four chairs around it. Larry Taylor appeared just as I was putting a basket of foam puzzles in the middle of the table.
The problem was an old panel and even older wiring. “And that wall outlet?” Larry said. “I don’t know why you haven’t had a fire before now.”
“Can you—will you—do the job?” I asked.
He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “For Everett, for the library, yes.”
My shoulders sagged as the tension drained out of them. “Could you put together an estimate for me?” I asked. “So I have some kind of idea of what it’s going to cost.”
“Sure.” He pulled a pencil from behind his ear and wrote something on a small pad he had in his shirt pocket. “It’ll be tomorrow afternoon before I can get started.”
“That’s fine. Drop off the estimate whenever you can. And send your bill directly here.”
He nodded and stuck the pencil behind his ear again. “I’ve disconnected all the plugs and one set of lights in that area, so no one gets hurt.”
“Thank you so much,” I said.
“I’ll drop an estimate back before the end of the day, and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
We shook hands and he left.
When you start the day almost being electrocuted, there’s nowhere to go but up. Larry dropped off his estimate at about four thirty, just as Oren was arriving to start putting together the computer carrels and chairs. Will Redfern’s crew had almost finished the circulation desk.
When I explained what had happened that morning, Oren’s jaw tightened, but aside from asking if I was all right, he didn’t say anything. I told him Larry was going to be fixing the wiring and he nodded his approval. That was all the recommendation I needed.
Hercules was sitting on the porch bench, looking out the window, when I got home. I unlocked the door, set down my bag and picked him up. “You little sneak,” I said. “I didn’t see you come out here behind me this morning. How did you do that?”
He didn’t answer. He was too busy purring as I scratched his chin. I kept fresh water—a bowl for each cat, because they wouldn’t share—and some dry cat food in the porch, along with a litter box, because they often snuck into the porch before I left. Hercules had even figured out how to push open the screen door so he could get out into the yard.
I unlocked the back door, set the cat down on the kitchen floor and went back into the porch to get my bag. When I stepped into the kitchen again Owen was sitting next to his brother.
“Hello,” I said to him. “How was your day?” I bent to scratch the top of his head. His eyes narrowed in pleasure.
The cats followed me upstairs, waiting by the bed while I changed, then came back down to watch me get supper. I gave them both a little of the crabmeat from my pasta salad before starting to eat.
There were two brownies left from last night. I put one on my plate and left the other covered so I could pretend for a few minutes more that I wasn’t going to eat both of them. I cut the brownie in front of me into four pieces and ate the first one. Owen looked expectantly at me as I picked up the second bite. “Forget it,” I said. “Brownies are not good for cats.” He glared at me, and for a second it looked like he’d crossed his eyes at me. I popped the bite of chocolate in my mouth, then stretched my arms behind the chair back. My right arm still ached a little and my mind was going around in circles, trying to make sense out of Gregor Easton’s last hours.
“Why would Easton have come back to the library?” I asked the cats. Hercules was washing his face. He paused, paw behind an ear, to look blankly at me. “I know; it doesn’t make sense,” I said.
I looked over at Owen. “He didn’t come back while we were there.” Owen meowed his agreement and continued washing his tail. “Susan said she didn’t see him, and neither did Mary. Why would they lie?”
Neither cat felt that thought was worth commenting on.
I reached for the last brownie and took a big bite. “So either he didn’t come back, or he snuck into the building. If he didn’t come back, how did the broken cuff link get there? And if he did sneak in, what the heck was he doing?”
Owen burped. It was as good an answer as any.
The phone rang then. I went into the living room to answer it.
“Hello, Katydid,” the voice on the other end said.
My mother.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, dropping into the leather chair beside the table that held the phone. I snagged the footstool with one foot and pulled it closer.
“How are you?” she asked.
For all that my mother could be incredibly self-absorbed, she also seemed to have some kind of mother radar that told her when something wasn’t right with one of us.
“I’m fine.” Because really, I was, except for a sore arm and a detective who had the idea I may have killed someone.
“I know you found that composer’s body,” she said flatly.
I slid down in the chair and propped my feet on the footstool. “How did you know?”
“I’m not a dinosaur, Katydid. I have a computer and I read the Mayville Heights Chronicle online every morning.”