“This is good for now. Thank you,” I said.
Rebecca sat opposite me with her own cup. “The way Everett spoke . . .” She hesitated. “What happened to Margo Walsh wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“I uh . . . I don’t think so,” I said slowly. I hated that Margo was probably dead because of a drawing.
“That’s very sad,” she said.
“It is. Very,” I agreed.
“Everett said the Weston drawing is missing?”
I looped my finger through the handle of the cup. “It looks that way, unless Margo put it somewhere for safekeeping, and I don’t know where that would be, or even why she would.”
Rebecca gave a soft sigh. “I’ve seen the drawing, you know. It’s quite lovely and surprisingly detailed, but it’s not worth killing another human being over, no matter how much money it’s worth.”
There was a knock on the back door then. Rebecca got up to answer it, reaching out to pat my arm for a moment as she moved past me.
It was Gavin Solomon. I wasn’t surprised to see him. I’d figured that Everett would have called him as well. He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt and his hair was mussed as if, like Marcus, he’d run his hands through it several times.
“Hello, Kathleen,” he said. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, either.
“Kathleen and I were just having hot chocolate,” Rebecca said to Gavin. “Would you like to join us? Or I could easily make a pot of coffee.”
Gavin pulled a hand across his neck. He seemed much more subdued than usual. “I think I’ve had more than my share of coffee today. A cup of hot chocolate sounds great.” He looked at me. “I can’t believe Margo is dead. I was just with her a couple of hours ago.”
He joined me at the table and by the time Rebecca had the hot chocolate ready Everett was walking through the back door.
We spent the next couple of hours deciding how we would handle the inevitable press inquiries and whether or not the library should be closed. It was after eleven thirty when Everett pushed back the lined yellow pad on the table in front of him and said, “I think we’ve done all we can do.”
Gavin nodded, shifting sideways in his seat and propping one forearm on the chair back. “You’re right,” he said. “Everything else is going to have to wait until morning.” He closed the leather portfolio in front of him on the table. “I’m meeting Detective Lind at nine o’clock to go over the security system with her, but I’ll contact everyone else I need to before that.” He shook his head. “I was going to say I needed to call Margo.”
Hope had called Gavin about half an hour after he’d gotten to the house, looking for more information about the temporary security system. He’d arranged to meet her at the library in the morning and walk her through it. Listening to his end of the conversation made it clear that the system should have been on.
“I appreciate you taking time to walk Detective Lind through the alarm system, Gavin,” Everett said. He looked tired. There were deep frown lines between his eyes and bracketing his mouth. Rebecca came to stand next to his chair. She put her hand on his shoulder and I could see him relax a little at her touch. Everett looked at me then. “Kathleen, I’m sorry about all the disruption this is going to cause for you,” he said. “But the only thing that matters is that the police catch whoever killed Margo.”
I nodded my agreement.
“If you need extra staff hours once the police release the building, go ahead and schedule them,” he continued. “I’ll clear that with the board.”
“Thank you,” I said, getting to my feet. I smiled at Rebecca. “And thank you for the hot chocolate.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” she said.
Gavin got to his feet as well. “Kathleen, can I give you a ride?” he asked.
I tipped my head in the direction of the backyard as I pulled on my hoodie. “Thanks, but I’m just across the back and I left the porch light on. The only thing I might run into is a raccoon.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, looking a little skeptical.
“I am,” I said.
“I shouldn’t be more than an hour with the detective in the morning, probably less,” Gavin said. “Could we get together after that? By then I know I’m going to have a list of things I’ll need input on from you.”
I ran through the mental checklist of things I needed to get done first thing in the morning. I had more phone calls to make and a quick check-in with Lita. It seemed callous to be thinking about all those mundane details with Margo dead, but they had to be taken care of. Margo would have been one of the first to point that out. “How about quarter after ten at Eric’s Place?”
“That should work,” he said.
Rebecca walked me to the door and stepped out onto the back stairs. “I don’t see any sign of Oswald,” she said.
“Oswald?” I asked. I had no idea whom she was talking about.
“The raccoon,” she said. “I saw it crossing the Justasons’ yard last week and I said to Everett that it reminded me of Uncle Oswald. He had big black-framed glasses and those bushy sideburns called muttonchops. And a rather unfortunate raccoon coat.”
She was trying to distract me for a few moments, I realized, from thinking about what had happened. I leaned against the railing and looked out across Rebecca’s yard and mine. “I don’t see anything with or without a raccoon coat.”
I gave her a quick hug. “Thank you for the hot chocolate,” I said as I started down the stairs. I cut across the back lawn and all but sprinted through the patch of darkness in between the reach of Rebecca’s porch light and my own. I had no desire to meet anything in a raccoon coat, no matter whose family member it might look like. I’d seen enough of what the bogeyman could do for one night.
6
Gavin walked into Eric’s Place at about five minutes after ten the next morning. I had called Harrison first thing and postponed our visit, promising we’d get together in a few days. Claire picked up the coffeepot and started toward the table as soon as she caught sight of Gavin. She had a cup poured before he had a chance to sit down.
“Thanks, Claire,” he said, reaching for the sugar. “You read my mind.”
She put two fingers to her right temple and narrowed her gaze at him. “Now you’re thinking about a sausage-and-apple breakfast sandwich,” she said, a hint of a smile playing across her face.
Gavin laughed. “I actually am.” He looked across the table at me, raising an eyebrow. “And one of those cinnamon roll things?”
“Please,” I said. I slid my mug toward Claire and she refilled it for me.
“It’ll just be a few minutes,” she said. She headed for the kitchen with our order.
Gavin leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Did you get in touch with everyone who was planning on being here for the opening of the exhibit?” he asked, gesturing at my phone, which was on the table next to my cup.
I nodded. “Most people were very understanding, although there was an art historian from Chicago who seemed more concerned about not being able to see the Weston drawing than about Margo being dead.”
Gavin rolled his eyes as he took a drink from his coffee. “There’s always someone whose priorities are all wrong.” He set the cup down. “I take it word’s getting out that the drawing is missing.”
“How, I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “But I think so. I hedged as much as I could.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “That’s not something we’re going to be able to keep quiet for very long. As I told your detective this morning, the questions are just going to get more pointed.”
“How did things go at the library?” I asked.
He gave an offhand shrug. “The Weston drawing is the only piece that’s missing. It’s pretty obvious that’s what the thief was after. And I think it’s too much of a coincidence to think Margo’s death isn’t connected.” He pressed his lips together for a moment and picked up his cup again. “I kept expecting her to walk in, you know.”