Софи Келли - Faux Paw

“A judge won’t give the drawing to you,” I said.

Marshall might not have been her biological brother, but the condescending smile Diana gave me was identical to the one her brother had given me. “My brother tried to steal it,” she said. “That’s not going to work in his favor.”

“You tried to steal it, too,” I said.

She didn’t flinch. “Excuse me?” she said, looking at me like I was something she’d found stuck to the sole of her very expensive shoes.

“It was a nice touch, mimicking Margo’s voice so the person you hired to steal the drawing thought it was her,” I said. “I would never have guessed except I saw that photo of you in the variety show for the children’s hospital with your dummy. I understand you were very good.”

She gave an offhand shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“But I do,” Hope said. “You transferred money to an account in Turks and Caicos recently. You didn’t do a very good job of covering your tracks.” She gave Diana a cool smile. “And by the way, you’re under arrest.”

Just like it had for her brother, the public face slipped away, showing something a lot more ugly underneath as Diana Holmes was led away.

Marcus had to go to the station, but Maggie came out to the house to celebrate with me. She’d played her part to perfection. We talked for about an hour over tea and cupcakes I’d gotten from Sweet Thing.

Mags stretched her arms up over her head and yawned. “Sorry,” she said. She smiled down at Owen, who, as usual, was settled beside her chair. “It’s not the company.”

He made a little murp as if saying he understood.

I walked out into the porch with Maggie. “Thank you,” I said, wrapping her in a hug. “You were great.”

“I’m glad I could help,” she said. “I’m glad Margo’s killer was caught.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

When I went back into the kitchen, Hercules was alone, sitting by the table. “Where’s your brother?” I asked.

The little tuxedo cat gave me a blank look.

The basement door opened then, pushed, I could see, by a furry gray paw. Owen came across the floor, three black feathers in his mouth, the same three feathers, I realized, that I’d taken away from him and tossed in the garbage can. Now I realized why he’d tipped it over.

He dropped the feathers in front of his brother, shook his head and made a hacking sound before pushing them toward Herc.

Was this a peacemaking gesture? Had Owen actually understood everything I’d said to him the other day?

Hercules stretched out one white-tipped paw and pulled the feathers toward him. His eyes never left his brother’s face. Then he bent his head, picked up the feathers in his mouth, turned and headed for the living room. Just before he got to the door he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. He gave a strangled “meow” because his mouth was full, and then he was gone.

After a moment I heard a sneeze, followed by another one. Clearly he’d spit out the feathers. I really hoped not on my footstool.

• • •

Harrison Taylor was sitting at a booth when I walked into Fern’s Diner late Saturday afternoon. Harry Junior and Elizabeth were both at the counter, each with a cup of coffee. Elizabeth wasn’t even trying to pretend she was there for any other reason than to watch her father. She was turned on her stool with her back to the counter so she could see the entire restaurant.

I slid into the booth across from Harrison.

“She’s not exactly subtle, is she?” he said, pointing a finger in his daughter’s direction.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I said with a smile.

The old man laughed. “Touché, Kathleen,” he said.

Across the room he caught Peggy Sue’s eye. He pointed to his own cup and then gestured at me. She nodded and in a moment came over with the coffeepot and a mug for me.

“How’re things at the library, Kathleen?” Harrison asked, smiling a thank-you at Peggy, who smiled back at him.

“We reopened this morning,” I said, adding cream and sugar to my cup.

“You must have been happy.”

“I did a little dance by the circulation desk before we opened up,” I said, grinning across the table at him.

“I’m sorry I missed that,” he said.

We spent the next ten minutes talking about the library. Several times from the corner of my eye I saw Elizabeth look at her watch and then glance at the front door of the diner.

Finally, she slid off her stool and walked over to us. Harry followed. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.

“Hi,” I said. I leaned around her and smiled at Harry.

Elizabeth had turned her attention to her father. “So where is she?”

The old man made a show of looking at his watch. “Is she late?”

“You know she is,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry. She stood you up.”

Harry gave a snort of derision. “You’re not sorry, child.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a defiant look. “No, I’m not. I told you this woman, whoever she is, was just trying to take advantage of you, and it turns out I was right.”

Harrison smiled up at her. “It turns out the joke’s on you,” he said. “This meeting was a setup.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and Harry shook his head, a wry smile spreading across his face.

The old man pointed from his daughter to his son. “You all need to butt out. I can manage my own love life on my own, thank you very much.”

I expected Elizabeth to be angry with her father, but all she did was lean down and kiss him on the cheek. “If you think you’ve won then you’ve forgotten whose daughter I am,” she said. She smiled at me. “Good to see you, Kathleen.” She looked at her brother. “I’ll wait for you in the truck.”

Harrison looked as though someone had just pulled the rug out from under him. Harry Junior was grinning broadly. He leaned over, patted his father on the shoulder and said, “I think you’ve finally met your match, old man.” Then he left.

“I’ll be damned,” Harrison said.

I laughed. “Apples and trees,” I said.

Peggy came back to top up our cups. I looked from her to Harrison. “So, how long has this relationship between you two been going on?” I asked, bouncing my crossed leg slowly in the air. Their guilty expressions told me I’d called it correctly.

“Are you going to tell on me?” Harrison asked. I noticed he’d covered Peggy Sue’s hand with his own.

“It’s not my story to tell.”

He narrowed his blue eyes at me. “How did you know?”

I reached for my coffee. “Peggy is the only other person in town who’s read every Mickey Spillane book we have. That and the fact that the two of you grinned at each other like a couple of sixteen-year-olds when she brought the coffee over.”

Harrison smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

Peggy set the carafe on the edge of the table. “Kathleen, my intentions toward Harrison are honorable, despite our age difference.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I said.

Harrison squeezed her hand and let it go. “I’m not stupid, Kathleen,” he said. “I know there’s a lot of water under the bridge when it comes to Peggy and me. We’re friends and we’re taking things real slow, but for the record, just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m not still in working order.”

I shook my head and put my hands over my ears. “That’s way more information than I need to have.”

Harrison laughed. Peggy blushed and I was very glad he didn’t say anything more.

When I got home Marcus was in the kitchen making dinner with two furry assistants looking on.

“Everything all right?” he asked, looking up from the stove.