Copycat Killing: A Magical Cats Mystery (7 page)

I spent the rest of the afternoon working at home, at the kitchen table with Owen and Hercules wandering in from time to time to see if I had anything good to mooch. The library board was planning a huge party to celebrate the building’s one hundredth “birthday” in June. As part of that celebration I had a number of displays planned, showcasing some of the history of Mayville Heights, and the different groups that had used the library over the years. Everyone on staff was working on some kind of project. Maggie had volunteered her services, and several people had promised photos and other memorabilia. My neighbor, Rebecca, had offered to lend me some of her mother’s old journals and drawings. Rebecca’s mother, Ellen Montgomery, had been an expert on
herbal remedies, and had taught more than one workshop on the subject at the library.

I soaked for a long time in the bathtub after supper and went to bed before ten o’clock. I was stiff and sore when I woke up the next morning, so I was still drinking my first cup of coffee when the phone rang. I got to my feet and limped into the living room to answer it. It was Maggie.

“Hi,” I said. “I thought you had an artists’ meeting this morning.”

“We’re finished. It didn’t take very long.” she said. She blew out a breath. “I was going to go over to the studio and do some work, but we have orders from the store’s Web site that I really need to get mailed. Plus there’s one package that I need to get from Ruby plus another from Jaeger of all people and I have no idea where all the packing supplies are, and I just heard the forecast. It’s going to rain again tonight.”

I eased down onto the footstool. “What can I do?” I asked. She sounded frazzled so I decided not to tell her what had happened to me out at Wisteria Hill. At least not on the phone.

If she’d heard the details via the Mayville Heights grapevine, “What happened?” would have been the first question out of her mouth. I knew that the downtown business owners had had a meeting of their own and another with the town council. It had probably taken all of yesterday afternoon, which was probably why Maggie wasn’t up on the latest scuttlebutt.

“Do you know any anti-rain dances? Or maybe where there might be a volcano that we could throw a sacrifice, say—I don’t know—Jaeger Merrill into?”

“Sorry,” I said. “But I do have a big roll of bubble wrap and lots of tape at the library.”

“Does that mean the volcano thing is off the table?”

“I take it the meeting this morning didn’t go well?”

“It’s more that Jaeger’s timing on this whole corporate sponsor thing just stinks,” she said. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I’ve been moving boxes and shelving for days now. I’ve been slinging sandbags and bailing the basement and it’s probably all been for nothing because it going to rain. Again.” I could hear the frustration in her voice. “And all Jaeger wants to do is push his agenda to turn the co-op into the Acme Widget Artists’ Co-op, like that’s somehow going to make the rain and the four feet of water in the basement and his leaky window just disappear.”

“So what happened?”

“We took a vote.”

“And?”

“And I knew there were enough people who like things the way they are.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I pictured her with her hand pressed against her chest, eyes closed. “But I don’t think Jaeger’s done. All I did was buy some time.”

“Maybe a bit of time is all you need,” I said. Owen wandered in and sat at my feet. “Once the rain stops, once things dry out a little, everyone’s going to be in a better mood.”

“I hope you’re right,” Maggie said. “With the store closed, Jaeger’s guardian angel with a checkbook idea seems pretty good to at least a couple of people.”

“It’s what my dad calls selling smoke in a jar,” I said, reaching down to lift Owen onto my lap. He rubbed the side of his face against the telephone receiver. “Owen sends his love.”

“Give Fuzz Face a scratch for me,” she said. Owen must have heard her voice because he started purring.

“Mags, why don’t I bring the truck down? We can take whatever you need over to your studio and at least get those orders sent.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. If I can keep up with orders from the Web site, that’s one less thing for Jaeger to complain about.”

“I’ll meet you at the shop in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Hey, Kath, I forgot to ask you. Did you try the boots on Hercules? Did he like them?”

“He was…speechless…meowless,” I said, cringing at how lame I sounded.

“I’m glad. I know he hates getting his feet wet.”

“I’ll see you shortly,” I said.

I hung up. Owen looked at me, narrowing his golden eyes. “I didn’t lie,” I said. He continued to stare, not even a whisker twitching.

I bent my face close to his. “Remember what I said,” I whispered. “We can always put those boots on you.”

He blinked, gave his head a shake and jumped down to the floor. Then he disappeared.

Literally.

“I hate it when you do that,” I muttered, heading back to the kitchen. I had no idea how he did it or why. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I could ask Roma about when I took the cats for their shots. And Owen’s little vanishing act had come in handy on occasion. Over time I’d just learned to accept it, kind of like Maggie’s inexplicable love for the
Today
show’s Matt Lauer. Some things defy rational explanation.

At least Hercules couldn’t spontaneously become invisible. Nope. All he could do was walk through walls. Again, it sometimes had its uses.

I took a couple of aspirin. Then I pulled on my sweatshirt and rubber boots and made my way out to the truck.

Maggie was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the co-op store. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Good goddess, Kathleen, what happened?” she said.

I held up a hand. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.” It probably would have been better if I hadn’t held up the hand with the big bandage on it.

She shot a quick glance at the front of the truck. “Did you have an accident?”

“No.” I shook my head. “The embankment behind the carriage house collapsed out from underneath me yesterday. The ground is completely saturated with water.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I’m okay.”

“You could have broken your neck.”

“But I didn’t,” I said. “I’ve got some scrapes and some bruises and I twisted my ankle, but that’s pretty much it. Marcus called the paramedics. Trust me, I wouldn’t be walking around if he thought I wasn’t okay. You know what he’s like.”

Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “I know what you’re like too.”

“Would it make you feel better to know Roma gave me the once over as well?”

“It would,” she said. “If you were a horse, or a German shepherd.”

“Roma has said I’m as stubborn as a mule,” I said. “Does that count?”

Maggie didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it.

“I swear I’m all right, Mags,” I said. “But the thing is, when the hill collapsed there were some…remains that were unearthed.”

“Remains?” she repeated. “You mean human remains?”

I nodded, shifting my weight more onto my right leg. If I stayed in one position too long the throbbing in my ankle got more insistent, as though it were doing the percussion intro to the
Hawaii Five-0
theme song.

Quickly, I filled in the rest of the story.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Maggie shook her head. “How could a ring that belonged to Roma’s father end up buried with some old bones out at Wisteria Hill?”

“They may not be old bones,” I said.

“No.” She made a dismissive gesture as though she were flicking away a bug. “You don’t think that’s Roma’s biological father, do you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Roma insists that he never took his ring off.”

“Town gossip was always that Tom ran out on Roma and Pearl.” Maggie gave me a wry smile. “I spent a lot of time with my grandmother when I was a kid. She knew everyone’s secrets.” She stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “How is Roma handling things?”

“She’s in shock, I think,” I said.

“The Wild are in the playoffs and Eddie’s on the road.”

Roma’s relationship with Eddie Sweeney, star player for the Minnesota Wild hockey team, was only a couple of months old. I had no idea how much he knew about her family.

“I know,” I said. “I’m going to call her later.”

“I will, too,” Maggie said.

“Okay, there’s nothing we can do right now so let’s get your stuff,” I said, dipping my head in the direction of the building.

Maggie unlocked the front door and we headed up
the stairs. Halfway from the top she suddenly stopped. “Kath, if that is Roma’s father, how did he end up buried out at Wisteria Hill?”

I slid my bandaged thumb along the wooden stair railing. “I don’t know. Any of the explanations I can come up with aren’t good.”

Maggie unlocked the door at the top of the stairs. She looked around the tai chi studio space, piled with boxes and everything else from the store downstairs, and her shoulders sagged.

I reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “The rain will stop, the basement will dry out, we’ll stop growing penicillin in our boots and things will get back to normal.”

“Isn’t that what the neighbors said to Noah when he started working on the ark in his backyard?” she said.

I smiled at her and pointed to the far corner. “Look. There’s the bubble wrap.”

We threaded our way around stacks of boxes and disassembled shelving. Maggie eased past a metal cabinet and handed the long roll of green bubble wrap out to me.

“Maybe next time Jaeger starts up I’ll just wrap him up in this stuff,” she said with a sly grin. “Stifle his objections so to speak.” It was good to see her sense of humor coming back.

We found the rest of the packing supplies and the boxes with the artwork that had to be mailed. For all that the space looked chaotic, I was sure that Maggie knew where everything was. Once we’d carried the boxes out to the truck, Maggie did a quick circuit of the empty store. There was no water coming in, no leaks from the ceiling or windows anywhere.

“Do you mind if I check the basement one more
time?” she asked. “I forgot to tell you: I talked to Larry Taylor. He may be able to get us a pump.”

Larry Taylor was an electrician, son of Harrison Taylor, Senior, and younger brother to Harrison Taylor, Junior, or as Larry always explained it; Larry, Harry and Harry.

“Oh Mags, that would be great,” I said as I followed her to the back storeroom. With all the rain, pumps were at a premium. Maggie had called anywhere she could think of within a fifty-mile radius of Mayville Heights and hadn’t been able to find one.

“I know,” she said. “Larry said it’s an old gas-powered pump, but I don’t care if it’s the pump Noah used on the ark. The Taylors will be able to get it working and if we can just get the basement dried out, maybe—maybe I can get Jaeger out of my hair.” She fished her keys from her pocket. “I know I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“It’s not you,” I said. “Ruby doesn’t like him either.”

Maggie looked over her shoulder at me. “We were standing here this morning right after the meeting, because, of course, everyone had to see the basement for themselves, and there was a moment when he was on the stairs that I had the urge to push him in the water. I could actually hear the splash in my head.” She turned the key, opened the door and felt for the light switch.

There was only one light fixture at the top of the stairs, but there was enough light to see Jaeger Merrill partly submerged, floating faceup in the water that half filled the basement.

He was dead.

M
aggie made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and scrambled down the steps, her foot skidding on the fourth one from the top.

I grabbed the back of her sweatshirt. Momentum pulled us forward and for a moment I thought we were both going to end up in the cold, dirty water. I reached out blindly with my free hand for something to hold on to and found the top stair post, and Maggie somehow managed to keep her balance.

I sucked in a breath. “You okay?” I asked.

She sagged against the railing and nodded, her face pale. I let go of her shirt.

Jaeger’s feet and the bottom half of his legs were on the stairs, the rest of his body was in the water. My left leg was trembling and I could feel my pulse thumping in the hollow just below my throat. I was pretty sure Jaeger was dead but somebody had to make sure. I sank onto the top step and eased my way down to the next one and then the next one.

“Careful,” Maggie warned. Her voice was shaky. “It’s wet.” Her right hand hovered in the air, ready to grab me if I slipped.

Most of the top part of the body was underneath the water; just the eyes and nose were above the surface. Jaeger’s head was turned slightly to the right, his eyes were half closed, and his mouth was partly open.

I reached forward, keeping most of my weight on my good leg and lifted his left arm, feeling for a pulse at the wrist. It was icy cold and his body already seemed to be stiffening. There was a cut on the fleshy part of his palm and the skin around it was puckered and wrinkled. Clearly he’d been in the water for a while.

There was no pulse.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Maggie asked.

I turned to look at her. “Yes,” I said.

“Should we…pull him out of the water?”

I shook my head. “No. I think we’ve already touched more than we should have.”

She held out her hand and I grabbed it, stood up, and climbed carefully back up the steps. Maggie glanced back over her shoulder at the body and then we went out into the storeroom. I wiped my hands on my jeans and pulled out my cell phone. She slumped against the wall.

“We should probably go wait by the front door,” I said after I’d made the call.

Maggie nodded without saying anything and we made our way back to the front of the building. I leaned by the door, watching for the first police car. I was afraid if I sat down I wouldn’t be able to get back up again. She dropped onto the steps, leaning her elbows on her knees.