Софи Келли - Faux Paw

“Hi,” Marcus said when I picked up. “I called to see what your day’s like.”

I dropped onto the footstool. I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot at the sound of his voice. Sometimes—a lot of times—Marcus had me acting like a teenager.

“I have to check in with Lita, and I’m having dinner with Maggie and Roma, but otherwise I’ll be here,” I said.

“Hope and I have a couple of interviews this morning. How about lunch at Eric’s?”

“Umm, that sounds good,” I said.

Owen was peeking around the living room doorway. “Merow,” he said loudly.

“Was that Owen?” Marcus asked.

I laughed. “Uh-huh. That’s his not very subtle way of telling me he’s ready to go outside and check the yard for interlopers.”

“Oh well, I wouldn’t want to mess up his schedule.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

We agreed on a time and said good-bye.

Owen was sitting by the back door, his tail moving restlessly on the floor. I knew that meant he was in a bad mood. I held the door open without comment and he went outside without making a sound.

“What’s with your brother?” I asked Hercules when I went back into the kitchen.

He was washing his face. He looked blankly at me, one paw paused in midair. Owen was usually the one giving me the faux innocent look. I had to admit Hercules was a lot better at it than his brother.

“You’re not fooling me,” I said, narrowing my gaze at him.

He gave an offhand murp and went back to his grooming routine.

Marcus was sitting at a table by the window when I walked into Eric’s just before twelve thirty. He was talking to Hope, who was standing by the table, and he got to his feet, smiling when he caught sight of me.

I walked across to them. “Hi,” I said.

Hope turned halfway around. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to horn in on your lunch. I seem to always be interrupting.”

“You’re not,” I said, unzipping my jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. “Can you join us?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I have a pile of paperwork back at the station.” She inclined her head in the direction of the counter at the back of the small restaurant. “I’m just waiting for takeout.” She looked at Marcus. “I’ll meet you at Riverarts in an hour,” she said. “Have a good lunch,” she said to me. She headed to the counter as Nic came out of the kitchen carrying a brown paper take-out bag.

“How was your morning?” Marcus asked as I sat down.

“All right,” I said. “Everett talked to the insurance company. And the CEO of the museum. They’re making space in another part of the museum. We should be able to get the artwork back to them early next week.”

Hope was on her way out the door. She raised a hand at us as Nic approached the table. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. He refilled Marcus’s cup and poured coffee for me. “The lunch special is macaroni and cheese with ham and chopped tomatoes.” He turned to me. “Eric said to tell you he also has a roasted vegetable sandwich on sourdough.”

“That sounds good,” I said, imagining two thick slices of Eric’s sourdough bread soaked with juicy roasted tomatoes, mushrooms and peppers.

Marcus ordered the macaroni and cheese.

“It’ll just be a few minutes,” Nic said.

I reached for the cream for my coffee. “You’re going to talk to Maggie and Ruby,” I said.

He nodded. “We’re putting together a timeline for last Thursday.”

“Let me know if you need anything else from me.”

We spent the next several minutes talking about my family back in Boston. I was telling Marcus about my mother’s latest efforts directing my dad when Nic slid an oval-shaped stoneware dish in front of him. I could smell the aroma of cheese and ham. He put a heavy plate at my place and my mouth began to water as the scent of warm grilled bread, tomatoes and spices reached my nose.

I’d just reached over and snagged a forkful of macaroni and cheese from Marcus’s bowl when Gavin Solomon stepped into the restaurant. He looked around and came in our direction once he caught sight of us.

“I’m glad I found you, Kathleen,” he said to me. “I just spoke to Detective Lind. I think I know who took the Weston drawing.”

“You know who broke in to the library?” Marcus said with just an edge of skepticism in his voice.

“Possibly,” Gavin said. If he’d heard Marcus’s disbelief, he was ignoring it. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, pulled it over and sat down. “A criminal named Devin Rossi.”

“And he is?” Marcus asked.

“She,” Gavin corrected. He leaned sideways, managed to catch Nic’s attention and mimicked drinking. Nic nodded and reached under the counter for a coffee cup. “Devin,” he repeated. “With an ‘i’ and an ‘n.’ As soon as Detective Lind told me how the break-in was done, I thought of her.”

“So you’re saying this person is some kind of professional cat burglar?” I said.

Gavin laughed. “Yeah, I know how ridiculous that sounds—a cat burglar, here.” He held up both hands for a moment in a “what can you do?” gesture. “But this isn’t an old Cary Grant movie. And Mayville Heights is the perfect place for a thief like Rossi to be operating. It makes more sense than trying to rob a high-security art museum in Paris.”

I thought he had a point, but I could tell from the set of Marcus’s jaw that he didn’t agree.

Nic arrived then with a cup of coffee for Gavin. “Could I get you anything else?” he asked.

Gavin gestured at his cup. “Let me finish this first, and then I’ll decide.”

Nic nodded. “No problem.”

Gavin added cream to his coffee, then reached across the table for my spoon to stir it, smiling at me as he did so. He took a long drink and leaned back in his chair.

“Devin Rossi stole artwork on demand for specific customers. She’d been operating mostly in North America and Great Britain for the past few years.”

“Stole?” I asked. “Past tense?”

“It looks that way. She dropped out of sight about two years ago. It was like she just disappeared.”

“Why haven’t I heard of this person?” Marcus asked.

“She’d been eluding law enforcement for pretty much the entire time.” Gavin shrugged. “No one is really sure what she even looks like. There was some speculation that she’d given up stealing for a living and was living on a beach somewhere in Costa Rica.”

Marcus speared a forkful of macaroni and ham but didn’t actually eat it.

“You think she’s the one who broke in to the library?” I said. “Why?”

“Because she was a gymnast as a kid who segued into rock climbing as a teenager. Can you think of someone better equipped to get onto the roof of the library and climb down from a skylight?”

“You’re saying she deliberately chose the most difficult way she could think of to break in to the building—assuming she even did this?” Marcus asked. He set his fork down on the table and gave up on pretending to eat.

“In a way, yes. Devin was always very careful not to be seen, not to be caught, but it was as if she liked the rush from doing things the hard way.” He held up one finger. “Excuse me a minute.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket, looked at the screen and put it away again. He turned to Marcus. “I have a contact at the Chicago Police Department. He’s sending you everything he has on Devin Rossi.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but all he said was, “Thank you.”

Gavin turned his smile on both of us. “And I’ve interrupted your lunch enough.” He looked at me and the smile widened just a bit. “Kathleen. I’ll call you later and we’ll coordinate getting the exhibit packed and out of your library as soon as the police are certain they’re finished.” His gaze moved to Marcus and the smile faded. “Detective, let me know if you have any questions.”