“Is there a DVD or something?” I heard one boy ask Mary as she handed him a book I knew was a young soldier’s diary from the last days of the war.
“Read five pages,” she said, holding up one hand. “And use your imagination.”
“I wouldn’t have to if there was a DVD,” he muttered.
She shooed him toward a chair by the window and rolled her eyes at me. Half an hour later he was still in the chair, bent over the book, engrossed in the story.
I put my arms around Mary’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “You’re good,” I said.
“Consider me a superhero of reading,” she said with a grin.
About half an hour before closing I went upstairs to clean off my desk. Hercules wasn’t sitting on top of it anymore, but he was in the room, curled up on my desk chair. He jumped down when I came in.
“Where are you going?” I said.
He ignored me, stopping only long enough to open the office door a little wider with one paw. At least he hadn’t walked right through it.
I followed him down the hall to the lunchroom. “There’s nothing in here you can eat,” I said.
He shot me a condescending look and kept going. Inside the room he went immediately to the metal shelving unit against the wall. It was going in the workroom one of these days. I made a mental note to get Mia to start sorting through all the stuff piled on the shelves.
Hercules put one paw under the bottom shelf, which was only a couple of inches above the floor, and batted a piece of paper into the middle of the room. It was almost as though he’d known it was there.
I bent down to pick it up. It looked like part of a page that had been torn from a magazine. The paper was crumpled and damp, like it had been in a cat’s mouth.
“Did you steal this from the box that was in the workroom?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Hercules, to his credit, didn’t even try to bluff me. He looked at me, head up, furry chin jutting out, obviously proud of himself.
I studied the torn page, wondering what about it had caught the cat’s attention. Was it the image of the bowl of steaming jajangmyeon in the Korean restaurant ad? Or was it the article written by a young woman who worked with teenage alcoholics? I couldn’t see what either one could have had to do with Hugh Davis’s death.
I looked down at the little tuxedo cat. Just because he could walk through a solid wooden door into the workroom and swipe a piece of paper didn’t mean that piece of paper was important. Both Hercules and Owen had found “clues” before, but I didn’t see how this scrap of a magazine page was going to help me figure out what Hannah was hiding or who had shot Hugh Davis up at the Spruce Bluff lookout.
I bent down and picked the cat up. “Let’s go home,” I said.
He twisted in my arms and swatted the paper with one paw. “Yes, I see that,” I said. I frowned at him. “You shouldn’t have taken it.”
He made a huffy sound of indignation in his throat and refused to look at me. I folded the page, put it in my pocket, and went back to my office with my sulky cat.
I couldn’t help wishing that Hercules had found something that would help me make sense of everything. What I didn’t realize was that he had.
17
Maggie had moved tai chi class from Tuesday evening to Monday, so I didn’t have a lot of time when I got home. I put the crumpled magazine page on the counter.
Hercules was still miffed. I crouched down next to him. He stared past me, aloof and unmoving like a black-and-white statue. I scratched his head just above his nose. “I’ll look at what you found when I get back tonight. I promise,” I said.
He made a disgruntled noise to show he still wasn’t happy with me, but he stayed for the head scratch so I knew I was pretty much back in his good graces.
I took the truck to tai chi class instead of walking, which meant I had to find a parking spot. That should have been easy on a Monday night, but I ended up on a side street partway up the hill and made it to the tai chi studio, half out of breath, just before Maggie was about to start class.
Everyone had made it, even with the change of day. Maggie was going to Minneapolis on Tuesday afternoon to present her application for a grant so the artists’ co-op could renovate the store. If they got the money, they would be adding space where the various artists could give classes in the summer and fall, along with a small workspace so tourists could stop and see an artist at work.
Ruby had come up with the idea and Maggie had spent hours and hours on the grant application. I could see Ruby had lots of nervous energy—probably because of the upcoming presentation. She was walking around the studio space swinging her arms and flicking her fingers.
Maggie, on the other hand, was the picture of Zen-like calm, standing in the center of the room in a green tie-dye tank top and yoga pants, talking to Taylor King.
I walked over to them. “Taylor, that book you requested about accessories from the 1960s came in,” I said. She beamed at me. “That’s great. I could probably come get it after school tomorrow.”
“It’ll be at the front desk,” I said.
Taylor had a good eye for vintage bags. She’d found several classic bags at different flea markets and thrift stores in the area. She was trying to learn more, she’d confided to me, because she wanted to start selling bags online. She was determined to show her dad that her interest in fashion wasn’t just some teenage girl thing, but could actually be a career for her.
“Is there anything else I could do to help with the festival?” she asked.
“I’m not certain,” I said. “But Abigail might need some help with the costumes she got from the theater in Red Wing.”
Maggie made a face. “Everything probably smells like smoke.”
“It does.”
“Kitty litter’s really good for getting the musty smell out of purses and things you can’t put in a washing machine,” Taylor said. “I use it sometimes if I find a bag that’s been stored in, like, a basement or an attic for a long time.”
“Abigail could probably use you, then,” I said. I fished an elastic out of the pocket of my yoga pants.
“Do you think it would be okay to call her and ask?”
“I think she’d be very happy to hear from you.”
Taylor smiled. “I’ll call her right after class. Thanks, Kathleen.”
Maggie looked around the room. “I think everyone made it,” she said. She clapped her hands and called, “Circle, everyone.”
Just then Hannah appeared in the doorway. She was wearing gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Since she was dressed in workout clothes I guessed she’d decided to take Maggie up on her offer to try a class.
“I’ll go,” I said softly to Maggie.
“Thanks,” she mouthed, touching my arm as she moved to take her place in the circle that was already forming in the middle of the room.
I walked over to Hannah. “Hi,” I said. “I’m glad you came. We’re just about to get started.”
“I haven’t done any tai chi in a while,” Hannah said, looking around. “My form is a little wobbly.”
I smiled. “Come stand next to me, then. My form is a lot wobbly.”
We joined the circle, Roma moving sideways to make room for us.
“Everyone, this is Hannah,” Maggie said. “She’s here to try a class with us.”
Hannah raised one hand in a little wave of acknowledgment.
Maggie worked us hard. She got Ruby to practice Push Hands with me. I was getting better, but I was still having problems shifting my weight forward and back. Maggie stood behind me for a couple of minutes, making tiny adjustments to my stance with just two fingers. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be as fluid as she and Ruby were.