“Then we’re on the same side,” Elliot said.
I hoped that was true. “I know you’re here because Hope called you.”
“I was coming anyway.” His closed hand tapped restlessly on the table.
So he was keeping track of Marcus. I let that go, sat down again and pulled one leg up underneath me. “So how much do you know?” I asked.
“Assume I know nothing,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
So I did, leaving out the scene with Travis at Eric’s. That part of the story wasn’t mine to tell and it had nothing to do with Dani’s death. Travis had been at a meeting when she was killed.
“The only two people in town who have those same medallions on their key chains are John Keller and Travis Rosen, and they can both account for their time,” Elliot said, his mouth pulled into a frown.
I pushed my hair back from my face. “The only one that’s missing is Marcus’s.”
Elliot shook his head as if that didn’t matter. “We’ll need to find out how many of those key chains were given away in the first place.”
“Twenty-one thousand, five hundred,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “How do you know that?”
“I did some research.”
“We need to find that squatter,” Elliot said. He tapped on the table again.
“Hope was going to see if she could get the police in the Clearwater area to keep an eye out for his van.”
“I have some contacts in the state patrol,” he said as though I hadn’t spoken. That was twice he’d done that, ignored what was said when it didn’t fit with what he’d already decided.
“You mean here,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes. We don’t have any proof that man— What’s his name?”
“Ira Kenyon.”
“We don’t have any proof he’s in Florida. We don’t even know he left the state at all.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I never thought of that.” Hercules came in then from wherever he’d been since the “incident” between Owen and Marcus’s father. He jumped up onto my lap, settled himself and then turned to look at Elliot.
“And what about the developer?” Elliot asked.
“He was at a meeting.”
“What kind of a meeting?”
Hercules turned to look at me for a moment. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Some kind of business meeting.” Hope had told me in one of our phone conversations, but I’d forgotten.
Elliot made a sound that was part exhalation, part annoyance. “How many people were there? There’s a big difference between a meeting with two people and one with two hundred.”
“Because the more people the greater possibility he wasn’t where he said he was.”
Elliot nodded. “Exactly.”
I could call Lita and see what she knew. “I can find out about the meeting,” I said.
“Are John and Travis still here?” Elliot asked.
“For the most part,” I said. “They’re back and forth between here and Red Wing.”
“Good,” he said, nodding.
“Not if you’re planning on talking to them about Dani’s death. They aren’t going to tell you anything.”
He seemed amused by what I’d said. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I wouldn’t talk to you.”
Hercules’s green eyes darted between the two of us. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation.
“You’re talking to me right now.”
“And you’re not trying to figure out if I might have killed Dani.” I raised an eyebrow in classic Mr. Spock style. (No offense to Zachary Quinto, who had some pretty great eyebrows of his own, but I was an old-school Star Trek girl.) “For the record, I was at the library, there were more than two people there, but fewer than two hundred.”
“You think you should talk to the boys, then?”
I nodded and Hercules gave a soft meow of agreement. “At least let me talk to them first.” I stressed the last word.
“Fine,” he said.
I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t just been played again.
Elliot got to his feet and reached for his coat. “I don’t suppose there’s any possibility you and Marcus would have breakfast with me?” he said.
I set Hercules on the floor and stood up as well. “It’s not a good idea. Not now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shrugging into his coat. “I love my son, Ms. Paulson. Despite our differences—and there have been a lot of them over the years—I love him.”
“So do I,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Then we have a great deal in common.” He said good night and left.
9
Marcus called at five to seven the next morning. I was standing at the counter waiting for the coffeemaker. “Are you up?” he said.
“Yes,” I teased. “I had to get up. The phone was ringing.”
“Did I wake you?” he said. “I’m sorry.”
I laughed. “I’m kidding. I was up. I’m just waiting for the coffee. Owen decided we should all be up at six thirty.”
The cat lifted his head when he heard his name, flicked his tail in my direction and then went back to his food.
“Since you made coffee, how about I come and make us breakfast?”
“I’d like that,” I said, smiling into the phone even though he couldn’t see me.
“See you shortly,” he said.
I was wearing an old T-shirt and leggings and my hair was half up, half falling out of a messy bun. I had time to change before Marcus arrived.
Then I heard a knock on the back door. “If that’s Elliot, you can deal with him,” I told Owen, who murped what sounded like agreement and kept on eating.
It wasn’t Elliot, though; it was Marcus. He pulled me into a one-armed hug.
“How did you get here so fast?” I said.
He grinned. “I was already in the driveway.”
I tugged at my T-shirt. “I was going to put on something a little less covered in cat hair,” I said, brushing a clump of Owen’s fur from my knee.
“I like covered in cat hair,” Marcus said, pulling me in for a kiss.
A meow came from the kitchen. Marcus laughed. “Hey, Owen,” he called.
There was another meow in answer.
Marcus followed me inside.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked, pointing to the canvas grocery bag he was carrying. He shot a quick look over in the cats’ direction.
“B. A. C. O. N.”
Hercules glanced in his brother’s direction, stretched and then ambled over to sit in front of Marcus.
“Don’t tell me he can spell,” Marcus said.
“Apparently he can,” I said. “He hasn’t mastered subtlety, just five-letter words that pertain to food. And keep in mind that Owen has a nose like a wolf.”
Right on cue the little tabby lifted his head. His nose twitched and he turned and made a beeline for Marcus, pawing the tote he’d just set on the floor.
“Hey!” I said sharply. “Don’t do that.”
Owen ignored me completely. He raised a paw and tried to reach into the top of the bag.
“Don’t do that, either,” I snapped. I picked the bag up and set it on the counter.
“Later,” Marcus whispered to them. He looked at me. “Got any tomatoes?”
“There’s a couple in the fridge.”
“How about a breakfast sandwich?”
“Sounds good,” I said. After a moment there were two agreeing murps from the floor.
“Sit,” he told me, making a shooing motion with one hand. Both cats immediately sat on the kitchen floor and then glared at me as if I was somehow ruining it for everyone by not sitting down right away too.
“I’m just going to get myself a cup of coffee,” I said.
Marcus gestured at the chairs. “Sit,” he repeated. “I’ll get it.”