Софи Келли - Faux Paw

Ruby was already perched on a stool at the center workspace. “Hey, Kathleen, when is the library going to reopen?” she asked.

“It looks like the end of the week,” I said, handing her a piece of cake.

Rena took the seat beside her and I gave her the other plate I was holding.

“Does Marcus have any leads?” Maggie asked as she brought mugs to the table. She gave Rena a sideways glance. “Kathleen’s boyfriend is a detective.”

I turned to pick up the other two plates. “Nothing he’s telling me about,” I said.

“What happens to the rest of the artwork?” Rena asked. She ate a forkful of cake and then smiled. “Oh, Kathleen, this is good!”

“Thank you,” I said. I reached for the container of marshmallows Maggie had set in the middle of the table and dropped two into my cup. “The artwork is all going back to the museum. The rest of the stops for the exhibit have been called off.”

“That bites,” Ruby said around a mouthful of cake.

“It does,” I agreed. “And I’m sorry you all lost your chance to have your work be part of the exhibit here at the library.”

Maggie smiled over the top of her tea. “It just wasn’t meant to be. Something else will come along.”

“Hey, Kathleen, any chance we could put together an exhibit of local art at the library, maybe this summer?” Ruby asked. “I know it wouldn’t pull in as many people as the museum artwork would have, but there are a lot of tourists in town then.”

“I’ll have to run it by the board, but I like the idea,” I said. “Would you be willing to put together something in writing that I can take to them?”

Ruby shrugged. “Sure.” She looked at Maggie. “That okay?”

“Yes,” Maggie said. “And maybe we could coordinate some workshops at the store. Oren should have everything finished by summer.” She turned to Rena and smiled. “Would you think about coming and doing a workshop in egg tempera?”

Rena nodded. “If I’m in town, absolutely.”

“How did you start working in egg tempera, anyway?” Ruby asked, shifting sideways on her stool to look at Rena.

“I liked the effect,” Rena said, brushing a loose tendril of hair back off her cheek. “I started playing around, but believe it or not, it was actually a weekend workshop that got me hooked.”

“How did you end up in Red Wing?” I asked.

She smiled across the table. “Would you believe I saw a short video about Red Wing online and fell in love with the town?”

Maggie’s mouth was full but she began to nod.

“The man with the springer spaniel?” I said.

Rena nodded.

“That’s Morgan,” Maggie said. “The dog, I mean. Tim, his owner, is a documentary filmmaker. He grew up in Red Wing.”

“Where did you live before Red Wing?” Ruby asked as she speared another piece of cake. I wanted to hug her. She was asking most of the questions I’d been going to ask.

“Pretty much everywhere. My dad designs recycling plants. We’d spend a year or two somewhere and then move on. Living in Red Wing may be the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place.” She looked at the three of us. “What about you? Did you all grow up here?”

“Ruby and I did,” Maggie said. She slid off her stool and headed for the kettle. “Kathleen came here from Boston to supervise renovations at the library.”

“And you fell in love with Mayville Heights,” Rena said.

Ruby looked up from her plate. “More like with a certain police detective.”

I felt my cheeks getting red. “That’s not the only reason I decided to stay,” I said. “I really do like living here. And there’s Owen and Hercules.”

Rena looked confused. “Owen and Hercules?”

“My cats,” I said. “They kind of think they’re people. I don’t think they’d do well in the city.” I looked over at Maggie, who had just put more water in the kettle and plugged it in again. “They’re a bit spoiled.”

“Owen and Hercules are not like other cats,” Maggie said. “They’re very intelligent.”

That was an understatement, I thought.

“Wait a minute,” Rena said, gesturing at Ruby with her fork. “I saw those paintings you did. Were those Kathleen’s cats?”

Ruby grunted a yes because her mouth was full of cake. She swallowed and began to tell Rena about the boys posing for her.

Rena Adler was very good at deflecting any conversation away from herself, I realized. I was even more convinced that she was hiding something. But was I right that she was really Devin Rossi? And even more important, had she killed Margo?

As I listened to her and Ruby talk, with occasional comments added by Maggie, I found myself hoping I was wrong. Rena was funny, kind in her comments about other artists’ work without being fake or cloying. I could see both Maggie and Ruby liked her.

After about another ten minutes or so, Ruby got to her feet and stretched. “I need to get back to work,” she said. She smiled across the table. “Thanks for the cake, Kathleen. And the tea, Maggie.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“I’ll put something together on that art exhibit idea and e-mail it to you if that’s okay?” she said.

I nodded. “That’s good.”

Ruby looked at Maggie. “You’ll be down at the shop this afternoon?”

“I’m meeting Oren there at one o’clock,” she said.

Rena slid off her stool. “I should get back to work as well.” She looked from me to Maggie. “This was fun. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you joined us,” Maggie said. She tipped her head in my direction. “Kathleen makes great brownies, too.”

“Was that a hint?” I teased.

She nodded. “It was.”

Rena smiled at us. “See you later,” she said.

I watched her head down the hall, waving at Ruby as she passed her studio door. I closed Maggie’s door and turned around to discover she’d taken all the cups and plates over to the sink. So much for my plan. I closed my eyes and blew out a breath.

“It’s in a bag on the counter,” Maggie said.

I opened my eyes. “What’s on the counter?”

She turned from the sink. “Rena’s cup. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Something with her fingerprints?” She gestured at the brown paper bag sitting next to the kettle.

“How did you know?” I asked walking over to her.

She turned off the tap. “Did you notice how Rena deflected any questions about herself? When Ruby asked where she’d lived before she moved to Red Wing she didn’t name a place. She said ‘everywhere.’”

I leaned against the wooden cabinet. “I noticed.”

“That’s not the first time she’s done that,” Maggie said, reaching for the small towel she kept on a hook next to the sink. “She did the same thing with Susan one of the times we were at the library.” She dried her hands. “I think she’s hiding something.”

I nodded. “I think you’re right.”

Maggie raked a hand through her blonde curls. “She didn’t kill Margo Walsh.”

“I like her too, Mags,” I said, gently.

“I’m not saying that just because I like her. She doesn’t give off that kind of energy.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying she’s not keeping secrets, because it’s pretty obvious she is. I just don’t think killing Margo is one of them.”

I looked over at the paper bag. “I hope you’re right.”

I left Riverarts and walked over to Eric’s. I’d left the truck in the library parking lot. It was too early for lunch, but a large cup of coffee sounded pretty good.

Nic Sutton was working. “Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “What can I get you?”

“Two large coffees to go,” I said.

“I just put a new pot on,” he said. “If you can wait for a couple of minutes you can have a fresh cup.”