I patted my midsection. “I was hungry.”
Peggy came back and refilled my cup and after I’d added cream and sugar I swung around so I was facing Andrew.
“I have a question about Friday night,” I said.
“Sure,” he said, turning his cup in slow circles on the green Formica.
“What else did you see?”
“Aside from that SUV on the highway? Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Just the dark blue SUV.”
“Close your eyes,” I said.
Andrew narrowed his gaze at me. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“Because it will help you concentrate.”
“And I’m concentrating on what, exactly?”
I made a face. “Will you just do it, please?”
He closed his eyes.
“Okay, we’re driving toward the water. The marina is coming up on the left side. What do you remember?”
“How good you smelled,” he said at once.
“That’s not helping.”
He shrugged. “You asked what I remembered. That’s what I remembered.”
I flexed both hands, squeezed them into fists and resisted the urge to slug him.
“We’re turning into the driveway. Do you see any cars coming out?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I didn’t remember any vehicles passing us, either. “What about in the parking lot?”
“Two half-ton trucks with some kind of logo on the door, a white cargo van and a silver sedan. The car had a flat.”
I could picture both vehicles, although I hadn’t noticed the car had a flat tire. “Anything else?”
“Three sailboats out in the water.” He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kathleen. I didn’t see anything.”
I folded my fingers around the heavy stoneware mug. “It’s okay. You should call Detective Lind, though, and tell her about the SUV.” I still had Hope Lind’s card in my pocket. I pulled it out and handed it to him.
He turned the cardboard rectangle over and frowned at me. “Who’s this Detective Lind? I thought your friend was investigating.”
“Detective Lind is in charge for now,” I said. “Marcus is working on something else.”
He shrugged and tucked the card in his shirt pocket.
I drank the last of my coffee and set the mug back on the counter. “Thank you for breakfast,” I said, “but I need to get home.”
“I was hoping you’d show me around,” Andrew said, slipping off his stool.
“I think you’ve pretty much seen all of Mayville Heights in the last week.” I brushed crumbs from my jeans as I stood up.
“I guess I have,” he said, dipping his head and giving me that killer smile. “I was hoping to go to the top of the bluff. I heard there’re some good hiking trails. And after that I thought we could drive into Minneapolis for a late dinner.”
“Thanks, but I can’t,” I said, pulling my wallet out of my purse.
Andrew held up a hand and shook his head. “No, Kath. I invited you.”
I hesitated.
“You may as well say yes,” he said with a gleam in his green eyes. “My legs are longer. I can get to the cash register before you can.”
“All right. Thank you.”
He took a step closer to me. “C’mon, Kath. It’s Sunday. Come with me.” He held out both hands. “Show me what’s so great about this place.”
“I already have plans,” I said. My plans were to make more sardine crackers for Owen and Hercules and to scrub the kitchen floor, but they were still plans. I twisted my watch around my wrist. “Go home, Andrew,” I said. “I mean go home to Boston. I’m glad that you came, but I won’t change my mind. It’s . . . The time for us has passed.”
It sounded like a line from a bad novel, but it was true. We were never, ever getting back together. I think I’d heard that line in a song.
Andrew smiled, a genuine smile, not his I-am-so-damn-cute smile. “I have six more days to change your mind. I’m not going anywhere.”
He paid for breakfast and we went out to the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot I saw him glance up the hill.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
He looked over at me. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t head for the bluff instead of taking me home and think I’ll be okay with it.”
He looked away and shook his head, not even trying to hide the smile. “See? You know me better than anybody.”
“It’s your big glass head,” I said lightly. “It’s like a fishbowl. I can see right through you.”
His expression grew serious. “That’s why we belong together.”
I sighed and shook my head. There didn’t seem to be any point in saying anything. Andrew didn’t want to listen.
“I’ll call you later,” he said when we got back to the house. “Maybe I’ll be able to persuade you to have dinner with me.”
“Call Detective Lind,” I said as I got out of the car. “It’s probably not important, but she still should know what you saw.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug. “And I’ll talk to you later.”
I walked around the side of the house and sat on the back stairs. Hercules came across the grass, stopping every few steps to shake a paw. He sat beside me, a sour look on his face. I used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe the top of his front paws, which seemed to appease him a little.
“I saw Burtis at the diner,” I said.
Herc murped softly, which I took to mean “Tell me more.”
“Abigail was driving one of his old trucks Friday night. The night she said her phone died. The night nobody knows where she was.”
Hercules leaned his head against my arm. “Merow,” he said softly.
“I know,” I said, reaching over to stroke his fur. “There’s no way this is good.”
15
I made kitty crackers for the boys and chicken stew with dumplings for myself. When Andrew called after lunch I turned down his offer for dinner. Again.
The cats and I spent most of the afternoon out in the yard, working the compost Harry Junior had dropped off into the cold frame box where I was going to try growing lettuce and kale early in the spring. In midafternoon Rebecca walked over for a visit and we had cranberry scones and tea in her gazebo.
I tried not to think about Hannah or Abigail and their connections to Hugh Davis. There wasn’t anything I could do, so I vowed to follow my advice to Marcus and stay out of it.
I was up early the next morning to meet Ruby at River Arts and see her painting of Hercules. When I came downstairs he was sitting underneath the carrier bag.
I folded my arms and looked at him. “What are you doing?”
He looked up at the bag and then over at the back door.
“If you’re coming with me you need to have breakfast,” I said, picking up his and Owen’s water dishes.
He got up and walked over to the back door.
“I told you I’m not buying you a breakfast sandwich. You’re a cat. Cats eat cat food.”
He walked right through the door into the porch.
“Oh, like that’s going to work,” I called after him.
Owen came in then and rubbed against my leg.
“Hey, Fuzz Face,” I said, bending down to scratch the top of his head.
I got his breakfast and set the dishes in their place by the refrigerator. He looked around the room and checked under the table.
“He’s out in the porch,” I said.
Owen cocked his head to one side.
I measured coffee into the machine. “He’s sulking.”
He studied the back door for a moment—thoughtfully, it seemed to me. Then he dropped his head and started sniffing his food.
Once the coffee was ready I poured myself a cup and went out to the porch. Hercules was on the bench, looking into the yard. One ear twitched, but other than that he gave no indication he knew I was in the room.
“Ruby will probably have some of those kitty treats,” I said.