And then we talked about insurance.
* * *
My dreams that night were a jumble of what was on my mind. The bookmobile was towing Kate, who was in a canoe with Eddie, and we were being chased by a mob led by Violet Mullaly. Courtney Drew and my sister-in-law were close behind, followed by the unusual trio of a college roommate I hadn’t seen in years, Mitchell Koyne, and Reva Shomin, who was asking why I hadn’t stopped by the deli lately. Holly was at the rear of the group, brandishing a plate of brownies and yelling that she’d cut them all to the same size so there was no need for everyone to buy rulers.
I surfaced out of slumber partly because the dream was so stupid, and partly because Eddie was lying on my chest and putting his front paw on my nose.
“And good morning to you, too.” I patted his head, which he appeared to enjoy about as much as I’d enjoyed his paw on my face. “That is what you were saying, yes? That it’s a beautiful day in northwest lower Michigan and you’re thrilled that you get to live here with me?”
“Mrr-rr.”
“Exactly,” I said, putting my feet on the floor, which was when I realized the outside temperature must have dropped, because the thought of putting my own self into a hot shower didn’t make me cringe inside. “Did you notice?” I asked Eddie.
“Mrr-rr,” he said.
“What is it with you and the double meow this morning? Did a frog get in your little kitty throat?” I eyed him, but decided against peering inside. “It almost sounds like you’re trying to say something. Mrr-aculous? No, too many syllables. Mirror? Mister? Monster? Mon—” And then I remembered something. Clella, up at Lakeview, had said Nicole taught school in Monroe, Michigan.
“And Monroe,” I said, snapping my fingers, “is where Lauren lives!”
“Mrr!”
“Sorry, you don’t know Lauren, do you? We were roommates my first two years of college, until she decided to go to massage school instead.” And from what I saw on Facebook, she was doing well. “A business, a husband, two children, three dogs. Yeah, sorry about that, buddy, she’s a definite dog person. But she’s nice, honest.”
Eddie rubbed his face against my elbow, so apparently he forgave Lauren her erroneous ways.
I reached for my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and sent her a quick text: Hey there! Have a question. Can I call you later? What time?
Lauren: In five minutes.
Minnie: Awesome! Thx!
Accordingly, right after I finished brushing my teeth, I picked up the phone and called.
“Minnie Hamilton, as I live and breathe,” Lauren said. “What’s the occasion? Life in paradise getting to be too much for you? If you need to come down here and slum a little, we can put you up. Well, if you don’t mind dirt, disorder, and dogs, not necessarily in that order.”
I laughed, delighted at her use of D words. “Why is it we don’t talk more often?”
“Stupid, I guess.”
This was undoubtedly true. But our friendship was the kind that, no matter how long it had been since we’d met, we were back into the rhythm instantly, as if we’d never been apart. It was like that with Kristen, too. And my brother and sister-in-law, come to think of it.
“So what’s up?” Lauren asked. “I’m happy to chat all morning long, or at least until my youngest wakes up, but you said you have a question.”
“Did you know Nicole Price?”
“Nicole . . .” Her voice drifted off, then sharpened. “Hang on, she’s that teacher. The one who was killed somewhere Up North. Did you know her?”
I blew out a breath and admitted that not only was she a bookmobile patron, but that I’d been there to discover her body.
“Oh, Minnie.” Lauren’s voice was full of empathy. “I’m so sorry. Sorry for Nicole and her family, too, of course, but finding someone you know who was murdered must have been horrible.”
I shook away the memory and got to the point of the call. “The weird thing is, a guy I ran into at the local nursing home is also from Monroe, and he acted all weird when I asked him about Nicole.”
“Who’s that?”
“Lowell Kokotovich.”
“Hmm. The last name is familiar, but I can’t place him. How old is he? Mid-twenties, you say?” The phone muffled for a moment and all I heard was Mom comments along the line of “Put that down right now! Do you want me to start counting? One . . . two . . .” She came back. “Sorry about that. My oldest likes to pretend she knows how to use the clothes steamer. Where were we?”
“Kokotovich,” I said, laughing.
“Right. I happen to be having lunch today with my yoga group, which includes the former high school secretary. I can ask her if you’d like.”
I did like, and said so, accompanied by my deep thanks.
When my cell rang just before one that afternoon, I snatched it up. “Lauren, thanks for calling me back.”
“Had to,” she said soberly. “There’s quite a story, and it’s not pretty.”
I clutched the phone tight. “Tell me.”
“Back in the day, Lowell was an excellent all-around athlete, not a star, but good enough to get an athletic scholarship to a small college. He probably figured he was all set.”
Something bad was coming, I could feel it. “Until?”
“Until the last semester of his senior year. He was taking a government class, but wasn’t taking it seriously, if you know what I mean, and he flunked. But it was a required class, so it kept him from graduating on time, and kept him from going to college on that scholarship.”
“Nicole taught the class?”
“You were always the smart one,” Lauren said. “The ugly part is that when Lowell found out he’d flunked—at that school the seniors get their grades before the underclassmen finish up—he barged into Nicole’s classroom and screamed that she’d ruined his life. On his way out, he slammed the door so hard it bounced open again. Nicole had been headed toward the door by that time and it caught her on the shoulder. She hadn’t been ready for it, of course, and fell and hurt her back.”
“Oh, no,” I breathed.
“Yeah, it was a real mess. Nicole ended up with horrible back pain, and, as you can imagine, lots of lawyers got involved.”
I thanked her again, and we chatted a bit longer, vowing to talk more. Afterward, I sat quietly, thinking about what I’d learned. Nicole had a chronic back injury. No wonder she swam for exercise. No wonder she’d so often looked unhappy. She hadn’t been innately cranky; she’d been suffering.
It was indeed an ugly story. And one I needed to pass on to Detective Hal Inwood.
* * *
I’d worked through lunch with my cell phone turned up on my desk so I wouldn’t miss Lauren’s call, and now I felt a sudden need to get out into the sunshine. Every library day I tried to get outside right after lunch, and there was no time like the present. As I breezed past the front desk, I nodded to Donna. “Headed out for my walk, but I’ll be back soon.”
“That’s what you say now,” Donna said, nodding gravely. “But with that nasty humidity gone, I’d take advantage. It’s supposed to heat up again this weekend.”
“Oh, ew.” I made a face. “Then don’t worry if I don’t come back until tomorrow.”
Donna laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover up your dirty little secret.”
My steps, which had heretofore been brisk, slowed a bit. Did everyone have a secret they wanted to hide? Possibly. Even probably. And some people surely had more than one. But how serious were the secrets? How desperate might someone be to cover theirs up?
I wondered all that as I walked through the lobby. Breathing in the fresh clean air and feeling a warm-but-not-blistering sun on my face made me feel a little better, but as I started my new favorite walking loop, the one that went past the renovation of an old hotel about the same age as Rafe’s house, my thoughts returned to the hypothesis that everyone had secrets.