His mouth twisted to one side for a moment. “Yes,” he said.
“So what happened?”
“I told you that he wanted me to go to law school and go into practice with him and I didn’t want to.”
I nodded.
“I didn’t tell you why.”
I reached for my coffee. “So tell me now,” I said.
“I took Business Ethics and Leadership in my third year. The professor had started offering these workshops on financial literacy for student athletes—on his own time, for nothing; he wasn’t making a cent. I volunteered to help, and before you tell me what a great guy that makes me, I got extra credit for it.”
“Okay.”
Again Marcus smiled at something he’d remembered. “A prosecutor from the district attorney’s office came and talked about get-rich-quick investments that people who suddenly have a lot of money can get caught up in. After, we went out for a beer. I talked to the guy for two hours about what he did.”
I smiled across the table at him. “You were hooked.”
Marcus nodded. “I was twenty-one. Putting the bad guys behind bars seemed like a pretty great way to make a living.”
“You dad didn’t agree.”
“No, he didn’t.” He turned his mug in slow circles on the table. “He told me I could work in the prosecutor’s office for a year. I could make connections that would help when I joined him. I didn’t want to make connections. I wanted to make the world a better place and, yes, I know how idealistic that sounds.”
“Idealism isn’t bad,” I said.
Marcus gave me a wry smile. “Tell that to my father. I knew if I went into law I’d always be Elliot Gordon’s son—never my own man. So I decided to be a police officer. He took it as a personal slight. The Christmas after I graduated from the police academy he gave me a study kit for the LSATs. He said I was wasting my potential.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
“You know what’s funny?” He leaned down to give each cat a couple of fish-shaped treats that he must have palmed when he got up for more coffee.
“What?”
“In a way I owe my father. If he hadn’t reacted the way he did over me wanting to work in the DA’s office I probably never would have become a police officer, and I think I’m better at that than I would have been as a lawyer.”
I smiled. “I think you would have been a good lawyer. I think you would have been good at anything you set your mind to.”
“And you’re not biased,” he teased.
“I’m not,” I said with mock seriousness. “I’m just looking at the facts the way any good reference librarian would.”
Marcus laughed.
“You know what else is funny?” I asked. “The fact that you didn’t even try to hide what you were doing.” I tipped my head in the direction of the boys, who were both happily eating.
“A little treat isn’t going to hurt them.” Owen lifted his head, looked at me and gave a sharp meow as if to say, “What he said.”
“No, but Roma might if she finds out how often you give them a little treat. She swings a mean broom.”
Marcus shook his head at me. “I want a rematch. I still say Roma cheated.”
He was referring to a broom hockey match to benefit the animal shelter that both he and Roma had played in during last year’s Winterfest. Marcus had captained one team and Brady Chapman the other. Roma—who was on Brady’s team—had swept in the winning goal and managed to trip Marcus with the other end of her broom in the last seconds of the game.
“Roma did not cheat,” I said, getting up to take my dishes to the sink. “Your legs are too long for broom hockey.”
He reached out and snagged me with one arm, pulling me down onto his lap. “My legs are too long?” he said. “Really? And what else is wrong with me?”
I frowned and pretended to think about it. “Your shoulders are too broad,” I said, putting both hands on them. “Your hair is too thick.” I reached up with one hand and pulled my fingers through his dark waves. “And your lips are too kissy.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “Umm, I can see that you’re suffering,” he said.
A loud meow came from the floor at our feet. “You don’t need any more treats,” I said.
Owen—because it had been him voicing his opinion—meowed again. “Let me rephrase. You’re not getting any more treats.” I kissed Marcus one more time. “You neither. I need to get ready for work.” I stood up and set my dishes on the counter. “Are you going to help Eddie this morning?” I asked.
Marcus got to his feet as well. “I’m going to go see my father. Maybe I can convince him to go home.”
“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t think it was likely. “In his defense I think he really does want to help.”
Marcus pulled a hand back through his hair. “He can’t seem to understand that I don’t always want that help. It’s hard to get out of the man’s shadow, because he casts such a big one.”
10
About five minutes after Marcus left Abigail called. “I found a great glow-in-the-dark skeleton I thought we could hang in the gazebo for Spookarama. Do you want me to bring it with me?”
“Please,” I said. We talked for a minute about how we were going to handle handing out treats during the Halloween party and then I said good-bye and headed upstairs to change.
The first thing I did when I got to the library was call Lita. I had no idea what time she got to work, but no matter how early I called the office she was always in.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” she said. “I’m glad you called. I heard Marcus was invited to the police station to answer some questions. How is he?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “But, uh, that’s why I called.” I paused and took a deep breath. “I need a favor and it’s for him in a way.”
“Everett instructed me over a week ago to make sure anything Marcus needs he gets, which I would have done anyway.” I could feel her smile coming through the phone. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Ernie Kingsley was at a meeting the day Danielle McAllister was killed. I need to know everything about it. How many people were there? Could Ernie have gotten there late? Did he leave early? Who saw him?”
“In other words you want to know how much of an alibi his alibi really is?”
I turned slowly from side to side in my chair. “I’m not saying he killed her, not deliberately. I just want to be one hundred percent certain he’s not involved.”
“Give me a couple of hours,” Lita said. “I’ll call you back. I know Ernie’s assistant, Nora. He’s here today to give his pitch to the business coalition, so she’ll have a minute to talk.”
I hung up and leaned back in the chair. There was a squeak somewhere in the back mechanism. I sat for a minute, making it squeak like the floor in a horror-movie haunted house while I organized my thoughts.
Whatever Marcus said to his father—which he was probably saying right now—I didn’t think the elder Gordon was going to leave town. But I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, or if I should. I was already having reservations about Hope. I needed to know more about Elliot Gordon, at least as a lawyer if not a person. I knew I couldn’t call Marcus’s sister, Hannah. He didn’t want her to know what had happened, not yet.
I wondered if Brady knew anything about Elliot. I’d noticed that the older man had seemed to recognize the younger’s name when Marcus had called him at the restaurant. I’d already asked for one favor. Maybe I’d get lucky with a second.
The phone rang several times before Maggie answered. “Hi, Mags,” I said.
“Hi,” she said. “Are you at home or the library?”
“Library.”
“Good. How about coming for pizza tonight? I feel like cooking.”