The Death of Perry Many Paws (12 page)

“Hereditary. How we react to stress is both a result of nature and of nurture …”

“Cam, please. Let Grace finish.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, Hugh freaked and went to Ryan, who also freaked, so they screamed at each other for what was probably hours without me there to interfere and play referee. The gist of all the screaming was that Ryan agreed to go to the police and explain the blood on his shirt …”

“Did he tell Hugh it was Franklin’s?” I asked.

“Eventually. Hugh said he came up with several lies on his way to the truth but Hugh can be unrelenting and finally broke him down and he confessed it was Franklin’s.”

“But he didn’t—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No. He didn’t confess to killing him. He swears he didn’t and Hugh believes him.”

“It’s a good sign they didn’t keep him at the station. This Officer Donny must believe him also,” Cam added.

“So what’s his story?” I asked. “How did he get Franklin’s blood on his shirt?”

“Well, here’s where it gets weird,” Grace said. “He and some friends had been spying on Franklin for several weeks. One of the boys happened to notice Franklin in his cottage one night as he was cutting across your property to go home …”

“I bet it was Jason Willetts,” Cam interrupted. “I’ve noticed him cutting through our yard many times when he’s out walking his dog. It gets Mycroft all agitated. I’ve also heard that he’s had a couple run-ins with the police. Not the kind of kid I’d want my son to hang out with.”

“Yeah, I think that was the same name Hugh said. Jason somebody. Well Jason apparently had been checking Franklin out as he went past …”

I nodded. “Franklin never closed his curtains and with the light on he was easy to see.”

“For some reason this Jason kid found Franklin amusing and told Ryan and this other friend named Mike. They decided to spy on him at night when they had nothing better to do. So several nights in a row they sat in the woods and watched Franklin through the window, each night daring each other to move a little closer.”

“Typical,” Cam muttered.

“They eventually got to the point where they were sneaking right up to the cottage and peeking in the windows …”

“They were probably scaring poor Uncle Franklin to death,” Cam said.

“No. They swore Franklin never saw them. I don’t think they were tormenting him. Ryan said Franklin never once noticed they were out there.”

“So how did the blood get on Ryan’s shirt?” I asked. Somewhere in the story Ryan had to have gotten into the house.

“This is the part of the story that had to be dragged out of Ryan. Apparently they finally got up the nerve to try the back door, the one that leads into the kitchen, and began daring each other to go into the house and see how far they could get. On Mike’s night, he’d opened the door and stepped into the kitchen then heard Franklin moving around in his study and bolted out the door. On the second night, Jason’s night, Jason went through the kitchen and waved at the guys through the living room window and then high tailed it out of there.”

I shook my head. “Girls don’t do stupid things like this. I can’t imagine Abbey and her friends being this stupid.” Cam gave me his wide-eyed “don’t change the subject now” look and I dropped it.

“Then it came to Ryan’s night to go into the house,” Grace continued. “He had to do one better than Jason so he said he planned to go into the doorway of the study where Franklin sat every night and wave at the guys from a spot where Franklin couldn’t see him. The boys hid outside the study window. Ryan went in and waved at the guys as planned. Franklin’s back was to Ryan and he was facing the window but the other two boys were far enough back that he couldn’t see them in the dark if he looked out, which they said he never did.”

“So where did the blood come from?” I asked.

“I’m getting there. Franklin was alive the night Ryan went into the study for his dare. It was the next night that the trouble took place. After Ryan’s trip into the study, no one could think of anything more daring that any of them were willing to do. Ryan said that up until the last minute the dare had been for someone to go into the house and use the bathroom and then sneak out, minus the flushing. Then when Franklin went in the bathroom he would wonder if he forgot to flush. Pretty juvenile …”

“It’s starting to sound like harassment to me,” I told her.

“I didn’t say it was nice of them. They were obviously being jerks, even Ryan knows that. Jason and Mike didn’t want to do the bathroom stunt, but Ryan was feeling pretty daring and superior after getting into the study the night before, so he volunteered to go into the house again even though it wasn’t his turn. But he decided to go one step further. There was a photo on a table behind Franklin …”

“Oh jeez. This sounds bad …”

“… so Ryan decided he would sneak in behind Franklin and take the photo. He walked into the room and waved at his friends and kept walking closer and closer to Franklin to gain more status. At some point he started to notice that Franklin wasn’t moving and one thing led to another and he ended up catching Franklin’s body as it began to slide out of the chair …”

“Thus getting covered in blood.”

“Right. He straightened the body and then took off. He was covered with blood so he took his shirt off, wadded it up, and threw it in the bottom of his closet. The other boys were petrified and they all agreed to keep quiet because they were afraid people would think they killed him. End of story.”

“And Hugh believes him?” I asked.

“Yes, absolutely. And I do, too,” Grace answered. “Ryan’s messed up in a lot of ways but he isn’t a murderer and he had no reason …”

“Unless it was a dare that got out of hand,” Cam said. “I don’t mean to argue with you, Grace, but what if everything is true except that Ryan
did
try to get the photo and Franklin caught him and they struggled and Ryan stabbed him in self defense?”

Grace emphatically shook her head. “That definitely couldn’t have happened. I’ll never believe Ryan killed Franklin, even by mistake.”

I could tell Cam wasn’t convinced but he didn’t want to upset Grace. He fell into his own thoughts, and Grace and I discussed what would happen to Ryan next (we had no idea), what we could do to help (we had no idea) and who might have actually killed Franklin (we had no idea). After talking to Hugh, Grace had agreed to go home the next day and be there while the three of them tried to work through this latest Ryan escapade. Grace knew she could always come back to The Castle if she needed to, and having that to fall back on made it easier for her to go home and give it another try. I was glad she and Hugh were working things out but I would really miss her company for dinners and evenings in the library. Our house really needed a third person.

hen I said this house needed a third person, I meant I was missing Abbey and now missing Grace—people to eat with and talk to. I was not referring to the company of spectral beings.

Grace is a staunch believer in the presence of spirits. She firmly embraces the idea that those who have crossed over are still nearby and within reach if we need them. There’s no fear in her belief but, rather, comfort. I can understand where Grace is coming from. She and her sister, Sarah, lost their parents when they were in high school. Both parents were killed in a collision with a truck on an icy February evening. Grace and Sarah moved in with their grandparents and, when her grandfather died, Grace inherited Trenary Booksellers, her grandfather’s bookstore. She still ran and operated the bookstore and Hugh rented the antiques store next door, which is how they met.

Grace claims to have talked to her parents and her grandparents many times since they died; she says this has brought her great inner peace. Syra and Diane think she’s nuts. I’m not so sure. I’ve had a few incidents where I swear a guardian angel or benevolent spirit has intervened to help me out. Grace insists that the rest of us are always so busy and harried that we don’t spend enough quiet time listening and paying attention to the world around us; we aren’t receptive to the quiet voices of those who want to help and guide us. Since Abbey
went to college I’ve had a lot more time on my own and my mind has been freer and quieter. I’m doing more listening, more introspective thinking, more experiencing of nature and complete silence, and because of this I am starting to believe that Grace is right. What is better proof of life after death than the presence of loving spirits who have passed before us, living in another dimension and offering their advice and protection. It’s a lovely idea, and the older I get the more sense it makes.

I was feeling melancholy the first night without Grace in the house. It was the same way I felt every time Abbey left to return to college. The house had seemed full and now it seemed too quiet. Even Mycroft was more sullen and that’s saying a lot for a bloodhound. Cam admitted that the house seemed too empty, but I knew he was referring to Abbey’s absence and not Grace’s.

No matter what kind of sleeper you were prior to motherhood, you instantly become a light sleeper once you give birth. In contrast, Cam is a very deep sleeper. Nature is all about balance. I was having trouble sleeping and was dozing fitfully. I woke up and looked at the clock, 3:23 a.m. Good. I’d slept forty uninterrupted minutes. I made a quick trip to the bathroom then hurried back to bed to snuggle up to Cam to get warm. I was nuzzling his shoulder and trying to wedge myself into the spooning position, which is difficult when one of the spooners is comatose. Then I heard it. At first I thought it was my imagination. Then I heard it again. A definite bumping noise. And it was coming from directly below us, from the library. Mycroft started to howl, a soft, almost whining sound.

“Cam! Wake up.” I untangled myself from Cam and the covers and sat up, shaking his shoulder.

“Wha …?”

“Mycroft is howling. Listen.”

Cam opened one eye and reached for me. “Are you trying to say you want to have sex?”

I stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You said Mycroft was howling. I thought that was code for having sex. Remember how he always howled …”

I shook him. More than vigorously. His head flopped back and forth.

“I don’t speak in code. Listen to me! Mycroft’s sleeping in the library and he’s howling and I heard a noise down there …”

“I really need coffee, sweetheart, if you want to get up this early and talk …”

“Oh for God’s sake, Cam, wake up!”

“I’m trying …”

“Cam, there’s a burglar in the library!”

Cam bolted upright and jumped out of bed. “A burglar in the library! Why didn’t you say so? Call 911. I’m going down …”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You stay here. It’s not safe …”

“No! You can’t go alone. There’s safety in numbers.” I grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. Stop! Let’s go down the secret passage. We’ll surprise them, maybe see who they are so we can give the police a description …”

“The police should be here soon, don’t you think?”

“Ahh. No one called them!” I grabbed the phone and dialed 911, gave them the abbreviated version, and then hung up even though they told me to stay on the line.

To use the secret passage that goes directly from our bedroom to the library, you have to go into our walk-in closet, move the clothes aside and lift a latch on the far wall. We didn’t dare turn on any lights—in retrospect, I have no idea why—so we bumbled around in the
closet, got hung up in the clothes, tripped over the shoes on the floor, felt frantically all over the wall searching for the latch, and eventually got the door open. The staircase leading to the library is a very tight circular one and, again, we were determined not to turn on the light. Cam went first and I hung onto the belt of his robe, in case he fell, and followed carefully, holding the railing with my other hand.

“Will the door squeak when I open it?” Cam whispered. He whispered so quietly that all I could hear was ‘hiss hiss door hiss hiss open?”

“Yes,” I whispered back. Cam stood there indecisively, so I nudged him. “Open it!”

“I can’t if it’s going to squeak. It’ll give us away.”

“Jesus. Just open the door and be quiet about it.”