“The name Rena. It can be a variation of Irene.”
“Irene Adler.” I watched as the name registered with him. “The woman,” he said slowly. “Sherlock Holmes.”
I nodded.
“It could just be a coincidence.”
“But it’s not,” I said. “We have a reciprocal agreement with the library in Red Wing. People with library cards from their library can use them in ours and vice versa. Rena borrowed a couple of books from this library: A Coffin for Dimitrios and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Eric Ambler and Agatha Christie. Mystery classics.” I exhaled slowly. “Marcus, I’m not wrong about this.”
He looked out across the water for a long moment, as if somehow the answers might be bobbing on the water. Then he turned back to me. “All right,” he said, holding out his hand.
I gave him the bag.
“You know it’s a long shot,” he warned.
“Not to me,” I said. I smiled up at him. “Anyway, we were a long shot.”
“Point taken,” he said, and the look he gave me made my insides feel as wobbly as a bowl of Jell-O salad at a Fourth of July picnic.
We turned around then and walked back to Eric’s.
“Where’s the truck?” Marcus asked, looking around.
“I left it at the library. It was such a nice day I decided to walk over to Riverarts.”
“I can drop you,” he said.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll walk.”
He reached for my free hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.
My coffee wasn’t that hot anymore, but I finished it as I walked to the library. I wasn’t going to waste a perfectly good cup just because of the temperature. Marshall Holmes was coming toward me on the sidewalk as I came level with the building. He raised a hand in greeting.
“Good morning,” I said as he got closer.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” he said. He glanced at the building. “Are you reopening?”
I shook my head. “Not for a few more days.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I have my e-reader, then.” He smiled. “I admit I like a paper book better, though.”
I smiled back at him. “If people didn’t like paper books I’d be out of a job.”
Marshall looked over at the building again. “I’m sorry if I’m being intrusive, but are there any leads in Margo Walsh’s death?”
“I’m not really sure,” I said. “The police are still investigating.”
“I didn’t know Margo very well,” he said. “But I hope they find whoever killed her.”
“So do I,” I said. “And I hope you get your drawing back as well.”
“It’s not what’s important,” Marshall said. “But thank you.” He glanced at his watch. “It was good to see you, Kathleen. I’m going to be in town for a few more days. I’ll be in for some ‘real’ books.”
“I’ll see you then,” I said.
Marcus arrived just before suppertime.
“So?” I said, turning from the stove to look at him.
“So you were right.”
“I knew it,” I said. Hercules and Owen were sitting at my feet and I would have high-fived them both if they’d known how. And if they’d had hands. “Are you going to ask her to come in to answer more questions?”
“I’m not sure that’s the best way to go about things,” he said, peeling off his jacket. He paused for a moment. “What happened to the local pieces that were part of the exhibit? Are they still at the library?”
Owen looked at me, yawned and headed for the basement door. Bored with the conversation or heading for his lair in the cellar, I wasn’t sure.
“They are,” I said. “Gavin and I were going to see if we could return them to the artists sometime in the next few days.” Hercules leaned against my leg.
“Could you return Rena Adler’s artwork, say, tomorrow? And without Solomon?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “What are you thinking? You don’t want to question Rena at the police station?”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “I don’t want to question her in any kind of official way at all. If I do that, she’s likely to request a lawyer.”
“You’re having second thoughts.”
“I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the investigation. Like I told you, I can’t use those fingerprints as evidence.”
“But if you have a conversation with her at the library, anything you learn is evidence,” I said.
“It’s a fine line, but yes,” he said.
“Okay. How about this? Gavin has a meeting in Minneapolis with the insurance company. He won’t be back until after lunch. I’ll call Rena and see if I can set something up for midmorning. Then when Gavin gets back he and I can return everyone else’s pieces.”
“Sounds good,” Marcus said.
I called Rena after supper. Marcus had gone back to work. She was happy to hear she could get her paintings back. I felt a twinge of guilt as I set a time for her to meet me at the library the next morning. Owen cocked his head to one side and eyed me as I hung up the phone.
“I hate this part,” I said to him with a sigh. “I like Rena.”
“Merow,” he said.
There really wasn’t anything else to say.
18
The sun was shining in the morning and the sky was slash of blue overhead as though Mother Nature had taken a wide paintbrush to the sky, so I walked down Mountain Road to meet Marcus at the library. As soon as we were inside the building I headed for the book drop. There weren’t nearly as many books and magazines as there had been in the past few days. I had enough time to take care of them before Rena showed up.
“I like her,” I said to Marcus as I sorted the books onto carts.
“Any special reason?” he asked. He was leaning against the circulation desk, handing books and magazines to me.
I looked up at him. “I told you how she managed to change the subject anytime the conversation turned to anything personal?”
He nodded.
“Well, Ruby and I were talking about possibly having an exhibit of local artwork at the library this summer and maybe tying it into a workshop at the co-op. Maggie asked Rena if she’d been willing to do something with egg tempera. I was watching her.”
“And?”
“She said yes and I believed her. I watched her body language.” I held up a hand before he could say anything. “She could have said no. She could have made an excuse. For that matter, why did she stay in Mayville Heights at all once the show was canceled? If she killed Margo, why didn’t she leave town? I know she’s been working at the high school with Ruby, but she could have gotten out of that.”
He ran his hand over the cover of a children’s picture book. “I think there’s jam on this one,” he said.
I took the book and set it aside in a pile I was keeping for Abigail to repair.
“Maybe she stayed so she wouldn’t look guilty,” Marcus said. “Maybe she stayed to keep an eye on our investigation. Right now, I don’t know.”
I took the last magazine he handed me, set it on top of the others and got to my feet. I glanced at my watch. “Rena should be here soon,” I said. “I’ll go watch for her.”
Marcus straightened up. “I’ll do that,” he said. He went to wait between the double doors and I wandered over to stand in the entrance to the exhibit area. Marcus had sent Curtis out for coffee. I looked around the space. I remembered Margo working with Larry Taylor to make sure the lighting was absolutely perfect.
I felt a lump in my throat. It seemed that her passing hadn’t really left a hole in anyone’s life.
I had my crazy family as well as Lise and my other friends back in Boston. I had Marcus and Maggie and Rebecca and Harrison and so many special people here in Mayville Heights. I liked Rena Adler, but I had also liked Margo, for all her perfectionism, and I wanted whoever had killed her brought to justice. Somebody had to fight for Margo, and it looked like that was going to be me.