Софи Келли - Faux Paw

“Which doesn’t do you any good because he has another alibi, which I’d just as soon not know about.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “You and me both. But my point is, Owen helped me find that date book. Once I finish going through it, who knows what other bits of evidence I might get from it.”

“You make it sound as though he knew the date book was in the box and opened it so you’d find it.” I had an uncomfortable feeling, niggling away at the base of my brain, that that was exactly what had happened, which meant I’d just made Marcus’s point.

“Okay, I know that didn’t happen, but he did help.” Marcus raised his eyebrows and smiled at me. He had a gorgeous smile that still had the ability to make me feel like a love-struck teenager when I wasn’t imagining what it was like to kiss his equally gorgeous mouth.

I realized then that he was waiting for me to say something while I was focusing on his mouth instead of the words coming out of it.

I let out a small sigh. “You win,” I said, reaching up to brush back the lock of dark hair that had fallen down onto his forehead.

“Thank you,” he said.

“That little fur ball owes you,” I said.

Marcus laughed. “A cat in my debt,” he said. “Now, that’s useful.”

Given what Owen was capable of, it really was, but I didn’t say that.

Marcus gave me a drive up the hill because my boots weren’t really made for walking up Mountain Road.

“Thank you for the ride,” I said as I undid my seat belt after he’d pulled into my driveway.

“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “I’ll call you later. And by the way, you look beautiful.”

I felt my cheeks flood with color as I got out of the car.

Owen was sitting by the table in the kitchen. He meowed the moment he saw me, coming over to wind himself around my legs. I bent down and picked him up and he immediately nuzzled my cheek.

“Never mind trying to get on my good side,” I said. He tipped his head to one side and looked at me, the absolute image of adorable kitty.

Hercules appeared in the living room doorway. “Mrrr,” he said softly; then he looked back over his shoulder.

I kissed the top of Owen’s head and set him down. “I know,” I said to Hercules. “Marcus told me.” I crossed the kitchen to him and leaned over to stroke his dark fur. “I heard he helped Marcus find some evidence.”

I know cats can’t shrug, but it almost seemed that he did. Then he took a few steps into the living room, turned and looked at me. I went to stand beside him. The contents of one file box were strewn all over the living room. All over. There were papers on the floor, under the wing chair and on the footstool. I blew out a breath and looked at Hercules.

“Was this all Owen?” I asked.

“Merow,” he said.

“Some of it was Marcus, wasn’t it?”

The floor was suddenly very interesting.

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “It explains why Marcus was so quick to spring to Owen’s defense.”

Hercules kept me company while I piled the papers in the box again. He even managed to snag an empty file folder that had somehow ended up underneath the sofa.

I scooped him up once we were finished. “Thank you,” I said. “What would I do without you?”

He narrowed his green eyes at me as though he were actually contemplating the question.

I spent the rest of the afternoon making phone calls, taking a break long enough to make a pan of cinnamon rolls and call Harrison to see if he would be free after supper for a visit. I still wanted to hear about the woman he’d met online. By suppertime I’d managed to coordinate moving most of the library’s programs temporarily over to Maggie’s studio, with the seniors heading to Henderson Holdings for their reading group. And Harrison had called back to say he’d see me at about seven thirty.

After supper I sat on the living room floor with Hercules beside me and reorganized the box of papers. And played Barry Manilow Live from the iPod dock. There was no sign of Owen.

Young Harry dropped off Harry Senior just before seven thirty. “I’ll be back to get him in about an hour,” Harry said to me.

“There’s no rush,” I said.

“We’re just fine. Go,” the old man said, waving one hand at his son. Harry mouthed a “thank you” at me and left.

Harrison settled himself at the table. “Something smells good,” he commented.

“Cinnamon rolls,” I said. “Would you like one?”

“Are they good for me?” he asked reaching in his pocket for something. Hercules had wandered in from somewhere and was sitting next to Harrison’s chair looking up at him.

“Probably not,” I said.

“In that case, yes, I’ll have one along with a cup of that coffee I smell.” He pulled what looked like a small piece of old shoe leather out of his pocket and held it out to Hercules. The cat sniffed it curiously and then took it from him, holding it in place on the floor with one paw and chewing happily on the other end.

“What are you feeding my cat?” I asked as I set a plate in front of the old man.

“Turkey jerky,” he said. Hercules looked up at him and seemed to almost smile just as the basement door opened and Owen appeared. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, then headed toward our guest.

“I didn’t forget you,” Harrison said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He took out a second piece of the jerky and held it out to Owen, who meowed his thanks and took it.

“Turkey jerky?” I asked as I poured our coffee.

“Burtis and the boys made it,” Harrison said. “It’s pretty good. Sorry I didn’t bring a piece for you.”

“That’s okay, I’ll take your word on it,” I said, joining him at the table.

He grinned at me. “It’s good stuff.” He patted his chest with one large hand. “It’ll put hair on your chest.”

I smiled back at him. “That’s just what I need.”

He laughed and leaned back in the chair with his coffee. “So tell me, when’s the library going to reopen? I’ve got about a half a dozen books requested.”

“It’s going to be sometime next week at least,” I said adding cream and sugar to my cup. “But if something you’ve been waiting for comes in, I’ll bring it out to you.”

“That’s good of you, Kathleen,” Harrison said. He took a bite of his cinnamon roll, smiled and licked a dab of icing off the side of his thumb. “That’s better than Burtis’s jerky.”

“That’s high praise,” I teased.

He reached over and patted my hand. “You’re darn right it is.” He took a long sip of his coffee and then his gaze focused on my face. “So start with the questions.”

I pulled one leg up underneath me. “No questions,” I said. “I’d like to hear about this woman you’ve met.”

“My son’s time would be better spent finding a date of his own.”

I nodded. “Maybe. But we’re not talking about Harry; we’re talking about you.”

“I met a woman. Yes, I know how to use a computer. I’m old, not dead. We decided it’s time we met in person. End of story.”

“Harry and Elizabeth are worried about you.”

He broke off another section of cinnamon roll, popped it in his mouth and ate it. “Kathleen, you know I love my kids. Harry is a damn fine man.” He mock frowned at me. “And if you repeat that to him I’ll pretend I had a stroke and was just mumbling nonsense.” He reached for his coffee again. “For a while I wasn’t even sure I was going to meet Elizabeth, let alone get to be part of her life, and I’m grateful every day that it all worked out. And I’m grateful for your part in that.”

I smiled across the table at him. “I did very little, but I’m glad it helped.”