Софи Келли - Final Catcall

There were four people browsing in the small space. Maggie and Ruby Blackthorne were behind the counter looking after a fifth customer. Ruby was nesting a small earth goddess statue in a box filled with packing peanuts that looked like white cheese curls. They were made out of cornstarch and I remembered how happy Maggie had been to find them on a trip we’d made to Minneapolis with Roma . . . at a business Abigail had suggested she check out.

I needed to talk to Maggie. I needed her to tell me I was seeing connections where there really weren’t any.

She looked up from the cash register, smiled and held up one finger, which meant “Give me a minute.”

I nodded.

Marcus’s sister, Hannah, was in the far corner of the room looking at wind chimes. I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, smiling when she saw it was me. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun and what makeup she wore had been expertly applied, but it couldn’t completely disguise the fact that she hadn’t had enough sleep. Her skin was pale and tiny lines pulled at the corners of her eyes.

“Hi,” I said.

She looked around. “This place is wonderful.”

I nodded. “Yes, it is.”

The artists’ co-op had had its problems in the past. The basement had flooded after days of steady rain in the spring. Even worse, the body of mask-maker Jaeger Merrill had been found floating down there the same day he’d had an angry confrontation with the co-op board. But Maggie, as chairman of the board, had kept the store running and now it was showing a decent and consistent profit.

“I’m sorry about Hugh,” I said.

Hannah shrugged. “Me too. I didn’t know him that well, but nobody should die like that.” She brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. “Ben says your mom is coming to step in, though.”

“Yes, she is.”

“What’s your mother like?” Hannah was wearing a couple of vivid multicolored fabric bracelets on her right arm and she twisted them around her wrist with her other hand.

“Dramatic,” I said with a smile.

“What director isn’t?”

“She’s very good at finding that one little detail that helps an actor figure out who their character is—at least according to my dad.”

“Your parents work together?” She looked surprised.

I nodded. “They both teach at a private school. And they’ve been performing together since before I was born. And they’ve been married twice and divorced once.”

Hannah smiled. “I bet it was interesting growing up in your family.”

That made me laugh. “I never knew when I came home from school if my parents would be Lord and Lady Macbeth or Bonnie and Clyde.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Maggie was still busy at the counter with her customer. “Seriously, though, I think you’ll like working with my mother.”

“I’m just happy she agreed to come.” Hannah was still twisting the bracelets around her arm. “I went to Red Wing after rehearsal and spent a couple of hours going through the bags and boxes of stuff that had been in the theater, hoping I could salvage something from the fire. When I got back and found out what had happened to Hugh, I assumed everything would be canceled.” She shook her head. “It seemed like all the talk about jinxes might be coming true. First it was the fire. Then when I got to Red Wing so much of what had been saved was a mess.” She sighed and looked down at the floor for a minute. “Pretty much everything either had water damage or smelled like smoke. When Ben called last night, it just seemed like too much.”

“I hope the worst is over now,” I said.

She nodded. “Me too.”

Maggie joined us then, stretching her arms up over her head. “Yes, I would like to go to Eric’s for lunch,” she said to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but every time I tried to someone wanted to buy something.” She smiled at Hannah. “Can you join us?”

“Yes. Can you?” I said.

Hannah shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. Ben’s going to take us through a quick rehearsal”—she looked at her watch—“in about half an hour. I should get going.”

She turned to Maggie. “Could you put that mug aside for me?” She pointed to a large cream-colored coffee cup with a line drawing of a cat’s face etched on one side. “I don’t have my wallet, but I’ll come back for it after rehearsal.” She looked at me. “You think Marcus will like it?”

I nodded. “It looks like it’ll hold a lot of coffee. He’ll like it.”

Maggie lifted the cup off the shelf. “Ruby will have it behind the counter for you.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said. “It was good to see you, Kathleen.”

“You too,” I said.

She left and I followed Maggie over to the counter, where she gave Ruby the pottery coffee mug and explained that Hannah would be back for it. “I just have to get my jacket and purse from my office and I’ll be right back,” Maggie said to me.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Ruby smiled at me. “I was going to call you,” she said. Her hair, which was red and blue this week, was pulled back in a low, stubby ponytail since she was growing it out, and she was wearing wire-framed glasses instead of her usual contacts. “The painting of Hercules is pretty much finished. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, I would,” I said. Ruby was doing a couple of paintings of Hercules and Owen to be auctioned off to benefit a cat rescue organization.

She tipped her head to one side. “Would it be weird to say you could bring Hercules if you wanted to?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I didn’t say that I was pretty sure Hercules would love to see the finished painting. That would have been weird.

“Would first thing Monday morning be okay?” Ruby asked.

“That’s fine.”

She gave me a sly smile. “Tell Hercules I have some of those fish crackers left.”

“You’re going to be his new best friend, you know.”

“Works for me.”

I grinned. “I’ll remind you of that the next time your new best friend has to go to Roma for a shot.”

She laughed.

“You have paint under your chin,” I said, pointing at a streak of indigo just under her jawline.

She made a face and swiped at her chin with the sleeve of her psychedelic green T-shirt. “I was painting a backdrop for Abigail this morning and I didn’t have time to get cleaned up before I had to come over here. I was supposed to do it last night, but Abigail’s phone died. I tried her three times but I couldn’t get her.” She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes technology makes me crazy.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

Maggie came up behind me. “Ready to go?” she asked.

I turned around to face her. “Yes. I’m getting hungry.”

Maggie looked at Ruby. “Could I bring you back anything?”

Ruby thought for a moment. “A large chai tea would be good. And if a cinnamon roll jumped in the bag, well, I wouldn’t be rude and reject it.”

“That’s very . . . kind of you,” Maggie said with a smile. “I’ll be about an hour.”

“And I’ll see you Monday morning,” I said. “Call me if anything changes.”

Maggie put the strap of her purse over her head and we started up the sidewalk toward Eric’s Place.

“Busy morning?” I asked.

“Uh-huh, but that’s a good thing.” She shifted the small denim purse onto her hip. “Andrew told me about Hugh Davis. Are you okay?”

I frowned at her. “Andrew told you?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh. I went to Eric’s for some tea before I opened the store. Andrew showed up at the same time. We had breakfast.”

“He’s trying to win you over to his side, you know.”