Paws and Effect (8 page)

Hercules was more than capable of taking down the big black grackle mid-flight and the bird could have easily injured the cat with its long beak. They both seemed to enjoy the battle. If someone won, the whole thing would be over and it didn't seem as though either one of them wanted that.

In the kitchen I discovered that Owen had decapitated yet another catnip chicken. There were bits of catnip all over and a limp yellow chicken head in the middle of the floor.

Hercules immediately sneezed and jumped in the air at the sound. He always managed to scare himself when he sneezed, as if he couldn't seem to grasp the small explosion was coming from him.

“Owen!” I yelled. When he didn't appear—literally or figuratively—I called his name again. “I'm putting Fred's head in the garbage if you don't get in here right now.”

I heard a meow from the living room and after a moment Owen appeared in the doorway. He made his way across the kitchen and took the chicken head from my hand.

Rebecca and Maggie kept the cat in a steady supply of the little yellow catnip toys known as Fred the Funky Chicken. Owen in turn destroyed them almost, it sometimes seemed, on some kind of schedule of his own.

“Why do you do this?” I asked pointing at the bits of dried catnip all over the kitchen floor. He looked up at me, blinked twice and headed for the basement, the yellow chicken head firmly in his teeth. I couldn't exactly make him go get the vacuum and clean things up. Behind me Hercules sneezed again. He had never been enthralled by catnip the way his brother was.

By the time I cleaned the kitchen floor, ate supper and changed, I was running very late for tai chi class, so Maggie was announcing “Circle,” as I walked into
the studio. She worked us hard and it wasn't until class was finished that we got a chance to talk. “Nice job, everyone. See you on Tuesday,” she called as she walked over to me.

I blotted sweat from my neck with the edge of my T-shirt, which was damp with perspiration in places.

“Your Push Hands are looking better,” she said. “Remember to think about your weight and where your center is.”

I nodded. “Aren't you going to tell me to bend my knees?” It was a running joke in the class that Maggie told me to bend my knees at least once per session.

“You're getting better at that,” she said with a smile.

I bumped her with my shoulder. “See?” I said. “I do listen to you.”

“I told Owen to remind you when you practice.”

I started to laugh.

Mags frowned. “What's so funny?”

“I was working on the form a few days ago and Owen kept making these little murping noises the entire time.”

“Did any of those noises sound like ‘Bend your knees'?” Maggie asked.

“No,” I said, stretching one arm over my head. “They sounded more like ‘Where's my breakfast?'”

We walked over to the table where Maggie kept supplies for tea. I gestured at the wall behind the table. “I like the color.” Oren had painted the walls in the studio a very pale yellow.

Maggie smiled. “Me too. I probably looked at two dozen colors but I kept coming back to this one. She
leaned over to plug in the kettle then reached for a box of chamomile tea bags. “Was John in the library today?” she asked.

I shook my head. “He went back to Red Wing with Travis to check on something.” I studied her face. “Did you find the plant?”

She nodded. “I think so. Brady and I went out to Roma's yesterday after supper. I took some photos to show John but I'm pretty sure it is Leedy's roseroot.”

“And you found the plants on Roma's land, didn't you?” She would have been more excited if they had been growing anywhere else.

Maggie dropped the tea bag in a cup and reached for the kettle. “Yes. Brady said we were definitely on Roma's land.”

I let out a sigh. So there wasn't going to be any way to stop the development after all. Then I noticed that Maggie was humming to herself as she finished making her tea.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You don't seem that upset. What's going on?”

“When we went out to Wisteria Hill we walked around that little piece of land that Ruby owns. I asked her first and she said it was okay.”

Considering that Ruby stood to benefit from the development I thought it was generous of her to tell Maggie she could look around her property.

“Did you know there's a cave just beyond that old cabin that Ruby's grandfather owned?”

Goose bumps puckered my skin. I didn't like small tight spaces. I'd been that way since I was a kid. Owen
and I had been trapped in the dark, damp basement of a camp in the woods not that different from the old building on the Blackthorne property a couple of winters ago. The experience hadn't made my claustrophobia any better.

“I was going to say I didn't know that, but I think maybe Marcus told me about it.” He'd spent a lot of time checking out those woods after a body had turned up at Wisteria Hill a year and a half ago when an embankment collapsed after a week of seemingly endless rain.

“We were dive-bombed by a bat,” Maggie said with a shudder. She felt the same way about small, furry animals as I did about small dark spaces.

“Oh, Mags, I'm sorry,” I said. “You're all right?”

“I'm fine.” She took another sip from her tea. “Brady said the bat was more afraid of me than I was of it but I don't think that's true. The bat did not hurl itself at Brady and pull his jacket over its head.”

“Are you sure you're okay?” I said, reaching out to give her arm a squeeze.

“Yes, I'm okay,” she said, “because I think the bat may help us stop the development.”

“How?” I asked just as Rebecca came across the floor to join us.

She looked at Maggie, curiosity in her blue eyes. “Did you have any luck last night?” she asked.

“I was just telling Kathleen,” Maggie said, leaning over to plug the kettle in again. She related her story about being bat-bombed while Rebecca looked at the selection of teas and made her choice.

“Bats have gotten a bad reputation thanks to all those myths about vampires,” Rebecca said. “Did you know that just one little brown bat can eat up to a thousand mosquitoes an hour? They provide pest control without all those nasty chemicals. And during World War Two the US government considered using bats to drop bombs on the enemy.”

“How do you know these things?” I asked as she reached for the now steaming kettle.

“I visit my public library,” she said primly and then laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She turned her attention to Maggie. “So tell me about the bat cave. Did you find Alfred there?”

Maggie gave her a blank look. She wasn't into comic book heroes.

“Batman's butler,” I explained exchanging a smile with Rebecca. “Tell us what you found.”

“Brady thinks the bat may have been a long-eared bat. I didn't know because I didn't get a very good look at it.”

Rebecca paused with her cup in midair. “Wait a minute, wasn't the long-eared bat on one of those lists John had?”

Maggie nodded.

“So it's endangered?” I said.

“Threatened,” Maggie said.

“White-nose syndrome,” Rebecca interjected. “It's killing bat populations all over North America.” She glanced at me. “That's from PBS, not the library.”

“So if Brady is right about the type of bat and if they're living in that cave—” I began.

“It might be enough to at least slow the proposal down for a while,” Maggie finished. “Brady said there is some precedent for protecting the bat's habitat.”

“That's wonderful news.” Rebecca smiled. “Have you told John yet?”

“He was in Red Wing all day, but I know he's planning on being at the library in the morning,” I said. “There are a couple of things he wants to check in the herbarium again.”

“I could text him,” Maggie said, setting her cup down on the table. “But I really wanted to talk to him face-to-face.”

“Come over about ten,” I said. “I'll be there. I changed shifts with Abigail.”

Rebecca touched my arm. “How's Marcus?” she asked.

“He's all right,” I said. “Thank you for asking. Dani's family is waiting to have a funeral service until the investigation is wrapped up so Marcus—and John and Travis—are still hanging.”

“They need to say a proper good-bye,” Rebecca said. “That's understandable. I'm sure Detective Lind will have things wrapped up very soon.” She glanced down at her watch. “Oh, I better get going,” she said. “I have a date with my husband and some Tubby's frozen yogurt.”

“Have fun,” I said, leaning in to give her a hug. She reached for Maggie's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Will you call me, dear, after you speak to John?”

“I will,” Maggie promised.

I stretched both arms up over my head. “I have to
go, too,” I said. “Owen chewed the head off another chicken and I don't think I got all the bits of catnip off the kitchen floor.”

“Does that mean he's out of chickens?” Maggie asked.

“No,” I said firmly, narrowing my eyes at her. “Owen does not need any more chickens. He has enough assorted parts to put about half a dozen of them together. He's the Dr. Frankenstein of funky chickens.” I glared at her. “No new chickens.”

“I heard you,” she said. She leaned over to give me a hug. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I headed for the coat hooks, knowing there was at least one new Fred the Funky Chicken in Owen's immediate future.

*   *   *

It was dark when I got home. I was unlocking the back door when something furry wound around my leg. I jumped, almost falling off the step. It was Hercules.

“You scared me,” I said, reaching down to pick him up. “What are you doing out here?”

He gave a non-committal murp but his green eyes darted to the big maple tree in the backyard. “Were you stalking that bird again?” I asked.

Hercules suddenly got very interested in the bag with my tai chi clothes hanging from my shoulder. “That grackle is tucked in his little bird nest right now. You can terrorize each other tomorrow,” I said. I gave the top of his head a scratch and started again to unlock the door.

“Kathleen,” a voice said behind me.

I jumped and swung around. Hope Lind was standing there. “I'm sorry,” she said, holding up one hand. “I didn't mean to startle you. Do you have a few minutes?”

Hope was wearing her dark hair a little longer and the curls looked a little windblown, like she hadn't had time to look in a mirror for a while. She was dressed in black trousers and heels that brought her to my height instead of the couple of inches shorter she was in flats.

“Of course,” I said. “C'mon in.”

Hope followed me inside. I set Hercules on the kitchen floor and he cocked his head to one side and eyed her.

I indicated the table. “Have a seat. I'm going to have a cup of hot chocolate. Would you like one? I have tea as well.”

She seemed distracted. “No,” she said, “hot chocolate is fine.” She glanced down at the cat. “Hello, Hercules.”

“Mrr,” he answered.

Hope looked around the kitchen. “This is a nice little house.”

“It actually belongs to Everett Henderson.” I put two mugs of milk in the microwave. “It was one of the perks he used to woo me to Mayville Heights.”

“I'm glad it worked,” she said, propping her elbows on the table.

We were both stalling, her in saying whatever it was she'd come to talk to me about and me in
hearing her out. I could feel my pulse thumping in the hollow below my throat. This had to be about Dani's death.

When the hot chocolate was made I set a cup in front of Hope and joined her at the table.

She cleared her throat. “Kathleen, I need to keep this conversation just between us.”

“I'm sorry, I don't like keeping secrets from Marcus, Hope,” I said, wiping a hand over the back of my neck. “It's gotten us into trouble in the past.”

“This has to do with Marcus. And I wouldn't be here if there was anyone else I could talk to.”

I couldn't miss the intensity in her voice. It matched the look in her eyes. I felt my chest tighten. I sighed. “All right.”

“Danielle McAllister's death wasn't an accident,” she said. “There's evidence that she didn't fall over that embankment.”

That was why the investigation had been taking so long. That was why Hope had been avoiding Marcus. “Did someone push her?” I asked. Had someone killed Dani because of the development? Would someone go that far?

Hope played with her cup, turning it in slow circles on the table. “The medical examiner thinks she was hit by a car, then the body was moved and she was . . . dropped over.”

An image of Dani, sitting at the table at Eric's, laughing as she told the story of their first meeting in the biology lab flashed into my mind. I felt the sour
taste of bile at the back of my throat. “That's horrible,” I whispered.

“It gets worse,” Hope said. “We found her phone. It was a little way away from her body. It had probably fallen out of her pocket when . . . when she went over. At first, I wasn't sure what we were going to be able to get from it.” She looked down at the table and then met my eyes again. “The last text Dani sent was to Marcus. She wanted to talk to him. He texted back a yes.”

“They did meet,” I said. “Over at the hotel.”

“I know,” Hope said. “This was after that.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “He
texted
back a yes?”

She nodded silently.

“That . . . that doesn't make sense.” Because of his dyslexia Marcus rarely sent texts. He called people. Everyone who knew him knew that. “Why didn't he call Dani back?”

Hope sighed softly. “I don't know,” she said. “I haven't asked him. I haven't told him about any of this. I haven't told anyone, except now, you.”