Sleight of Paw (24 page)

I looked at my watch. I had just enough time to get Hercules home and come back. I wasn’t looked forward to another trip up and down the hill.

I swallowed the last of my coffee. “Come on, Fuzz Face,” I said. I picked up the cat and popped him in the bag yet again. I fished the cinnamon roll I’d gotten for Owen out of the paper take-out bag.

I was getting good at dressing for the cold. We were out on the sidewalk in less than five minutes. As I headed to the corner, the strap of the messenger bag securely across my body, I thought for maybe the hundredth time this winter that I really needed a car. Hiking all over the place in a heavy parka and boots was wearing me out.

As I started up Mountain Road, Harry Taylor’s truck pulled up beside me. Harry leaned over and pointed at the empty seat beside him. I couldn’t help wondering if his driving by again was planned or a coincidence. I decided I didn’t care. It was cold. I nodded.

“What are you doing out so early?” he asked as I got in.

“I was at Ruby’s with Rebecca,” I said, as Harry pulled away from the curb.

“I heard she was arrested,” he said, his eyes straight ahead.

“She didn’t kill Agatha.” I was starting to sound like a broken record—or should that be CD? “I’m afraid the police will stop looking for the person who really did, though.”

“Do you think the old man knows something?” Harry asked.

I was surprised by his bluntness, so I chose my words carefully. “I think he might.”

Harry glanced over at me. “Like what?”

I told him about the envelope and how his father and Agatha seemed to have had words about whatever was in it. I felt bad about essentially telling on Harry Senior, but I felt worse about Ruby being in custody. “The envelope’s missing,” I said. “That’s way too much of a coincidence for me.”

Harry pulled into my driveway and put the truck in park. “You want me to ask Dad? I can’t promise you he’ll tell me anything.”

“Do you think he’d talk to me?” I asked. If Harry Senior understood he might be able to help Ruby, maybe he’d tell me what he’d argued about with Agatha. Maybe it would help. It was worth asking.

“I think he’s more likely to talk to you than me. How about coming out tonight after supper?”

I nodded. “All right.”

“I’ll come get you about seven,” he said.

I thanked him, picked up my bag and got out of the truck. As soon as we were in the house I let Hercules out. He shook himself and went for a drink. Owen appeared from somewhere. I gave him two pieces of the cinnamon roll. He sniffed them carefully.

“I’ll tell you everything tonight,” I said. “Or ask your brother.”

Quickly I changed my clothes, fixed my hair and touched up my makeup. I tossed some of the granola bars I’d made and an apple into my briefcase and headed back down to the library, grateful that Mayville Heights was small and the library was downhill.

I was almost at the bottom when I noticed Roma’s SUV up ahead at the intersection. I waved my arms to get her attention and half ran, half skidded down the sidewalk. She caught sight of me and waited. Luckily there was no one behind her.

She stuck her head out the driver’s window. “Hi, Kathleen. Were you looking for me or just practicing semaphore with your bag?”

“Very funny,” I said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” she said. “Get in.”

I climbed into the SUV and fastened the seat belt. Roma looked both ways and headed down the street. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Remember when we saw Agatha at Eric’s?”

“Yes.”

“She was carrying an envelope.”

Roma frowned. “Yeah,” she said, slowly, “brown. Maybe an old one from the school.”

I nodded.

“Is that important?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. It’s disappeared and I don’t have a clue what was in it. She argued with more than one person about that envelope.”

“Maybe the police have it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You think it could help Ruby?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How can I help?” she asked, as we turned toward the library.

“I need to know more about Agatha,” I said. “Maybe it’ll help me figure out what was so important to her that she was carrying it around everywhere in that old envelope.”

“Any coffee at the library?”

“There can be.” I held up the bag. “And I have granola bars.”

Roma looked at her watch. “I have about a half hour,” she said.

Mary and Abigail arrived as Roma turned into the library parking lot. I made coffee, filling a cup for Roma and one for myself, and leaving the rest for the other women. Roma and I settled in the two chairs facing my desk.

“So, what you want to know?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly.”

“You know Agatha was divorced when David was young.”

I nodded.

“She was a teacher before she was married, but she hadn’t taught in years.” Roma reached for one of the granola bars and took a bite. “Oh, those are good,” she said, her mouth full of oatmeal and chocolate chips. “She went back to school, got her degree, came back here and eventually became the principal of the junior high. She had no other family, no help. I don’t how she did it.”

“What was she like as a person?”

Roma considered the question for a minute. “She had high standards for everyone, but no more than for herself. She expected a lot, but she gave a lot, too. I told you that she took that time to go work with underprivileged kids.” She set her cup on my desk. “Kathleen, what you looking for? I can tell you Agatha was a good mother and a great teacher, but I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

I fingered the seam along the arm of the imitationleather chair. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, really,” I said. “Something I can use to help Ruby. The only thing I have to go on is an old report-card envelope. And now it’s disappeared.”

Roma picked up her cup again and took a long drink. I could see she was weighing her words before she spoke, so I waited without saying anything. She leaned forward in the chair. “Kathleen, one thing I can tell you about Agatha is that she was an extremely private person. She didn’t share anything of herself with people. I’m sorry, but I just don’t think that envelope is the key to who killed her. I think you’ll find out it would’ve been meaningless to anyone but her. It could’ve been papers from the rehab center. It could’ve been something she saw in the newspaper.” She reached over and broke off half of one of the remaining granola bars. “Have you talked to any of the people you saw arguing with her?”

“I talked to Eric,” I said with a shrug.

“What did he say?”

“That he wasn’t arguing with Agatha and he didn’t know what was in the envelope.”

“I’m sorry,” Roma said. “I think you’re looking in the wrong place.” She stood up, brushing crumbs off her jeans. “I think the whole thing’s going to turn out to be a horrible accident.”

What could I say? That I was positive the envelope did matter because Hercules had found part of it in Eric’s office? “Thanks,” I said.

“We’ll figure out a way to help Ruby.”

My phone rang then.

“Go ahead,” Roma said. “I need to get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow night.”

I got the phone the fourth ring. It was Maggie.

“I just wanted to let you know that Ruby is out on bail,” she said.

I sank onto my desk chair. “I’m so glad to hear that.” I felt some of the tension drain out of my body.

“We’re going to have a late lunch here at the studio. Could you come? Ruby wants to thank you in person for calling Everett.”

I quickly ran over the staffing schedule in my head. I was fairly sure I could take a late lunch.

“I think I can come,” I said. We agreed on one thirty and I hung up, swinging around in my chair to look out the window at the clouds, low and heavy and probably full of snow.

I’d talked to Eric about Agatha. I was going to see Old Harry tonight.

It was time to talk to third to the third person I’d seen arguing with Agatha.

Ruby.

T
here were a few flakes of snow blowing around when I headed down to the art studio. Ruby got to her feet and came over to me as soon as I walked into the room.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “I didn’t think I needed a lawyer, which wasn’t very smart.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “But all I did was make a phone call. The credit should go to Everett.”

“I already thanked him.” She slid a stack of brightly colored, knotted bracelets up and down her arm. “Kathleen, I didn’t hurt her.”

“I know that,” I said. “They’ll find out what really happened.”

We walked over to Maggie’s worktable. Mags was in the middle of an animated conversation with one of the other artists who shared studio space on that floor. She gave me a smile and kept on talking.

“How can anyone think that I would hurt Agatha?” Ruby asked, as I shrugged off my coat. “She changed my life.”

“Ruby what were you doing that night? Is there anyone who saw you or talked to you?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer: If Ruby had talked to anyone or been with anyone, the police wouldn’t have arrested her.

“I was home by myself, just watching a DVD,” she said quickly.

I looked at her without speaking. She flushed and looked away. “That’s a lie. I was sitting in the dark, eating cookie dough,” she said in a small voice. “I wasn’t on my computer. I didn’t answer the phone.” She let out a breath. “I had a fight with Justin. He drove me home and we got into it. He left, and I was going to walk down and get my truck but instead I just sat around eating half-frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.” She finally looked at me. “Pretty stupid, wasn’t it?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t help remembering my first few weeks in Mayville Heights after I’d left Andrew back in Boston. I’d spent a fair amount of time sitting in the dark, eating raw cookie dough myself. And ice cream and gobs of jam on English muffins. “It’s not stupid,” I said.

“If I had answered the phone or I checked my e-mail I’d at least be able to prove I was there.”

“We’ll figure something else out.” I looked around the room. Maggie was still talking. Justin was deep in conversation with a man whose suit and tie pegged him as Ruby’s lawyer. I was surprised to see Peter standing by one of the tall windows. In his dark suit and white shirt, his hair back in a ponytail, I almost hadn’t recognized him. Maybe he was there to represent Agatha’s son. I took a deep breath. “Ruby, I need to ask you something,” I said.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Last week, I saw you in the parking lot of the library with Agatha.”

She stiffened. “You probably did,” she said carefully.

“You were arguing about something.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with her death,” she said with an offhand shrug. “It was nothing.”

I knew that wasn’t true. She’d answered too quickly. I was getting so sick of hearing that the arguments and the envelope meant nothing when it was so clear they did.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “That brown envelope she was holding on to so tightly? It’s disappeared.”

The color drained from Ruby’s face. “Agatha’s death was an accident,” she said. “Someone was driving too fast or driving when they’d been drinking and they ran her down, panicked and took off.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not.”

Ruby looked stricken. “You think . . .” She had trouble getting the words out. “You think someone killed Agatha deliberately?”

“I don’t know.” What I left unsaid was that Marcus Gordon thought so, and that was what mattered.

“Even if that’s true, it couldn’t have been because of what was in the envelope.” She shook her head emphatically.

“Why?” I didn’t even try to keep the aggravation out of my voice. “What was in that stupid thing, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said.

“Ruby,” I said, leaning closer to make my point. “The police think you killed Agatha. This is a very bad time to be keeping secrets.”

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she said stubbornly.

“Well, whose secret is it?”

She took a long moment to think. “You should talk to Harry Taylor,” she said at last.

All roads led back to the old man. “Old Harry?”

She nodded. Harry had a secret. Ruby had a secret. Agatha had a secret. And now it looked like it was the same secret. All this secret keeping was a very, very bad thing to do. You just had to watch a couple of episodes of
The Young and the Restless
to know that.

Justin was looking in our direction and I knew I didn’t have much more time to make my point. “Agatha had some secret that Harry apparently knew, that you knew, and who knows how many other people knew.”

“No one else knew.”

I thought about Eric and realized that probably wasn’t true. “Agatha is dead. The police don’t think it’s an accident. That envelope with whatever was in it is gone. And you, who just happen to be one of the secret keepers, have been charged with Agatha’s murder. That’s four too many coincidences.”
And way too many secrets
.

“Harry didn’t hurt Agatha,” Ruby said, her mouth set in a tight line, hands on her hips. “First of all, he’s too old, and second, he’s not strong enough. And even if none of that stuff was true, I can promise you he would never ever hurt Agatha.”

“Ruby, I know that,” I said. “I know Harry didn’t kill Agatha any more than you did. But I can’t help but to keep thinking that whatever she had in that old envelope had something to do with her death.”

“It didn’t. You just have to trust me on this. It didn’t.” She made a dismissive wave with a hand. “Talk to Harry, Kathleen,” she said. And then she walked back to the others.

For a moment I thought about turning around and leaving, but Maggie was on her way over to me. “Everything all right?” she asked,