Софи Келли - Final Catcall

She laughed. “Yeah, I did.” She tightened the scarf at her neck. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the clipping was about a new play that’s going to be produced. I’m on the short list for a part. They lost their director and Hugh was at me to suggest him as a replacement.” She held up her hand. “I told him that I didn’t want to get involved in anything political like that and ruin my chances at the part. He wouldn’t let it go. He kept bugging me about it. It was a couple of days before the fire at the theater in Red Wing and I’d had enough. I picked up a marker from his desk and wrote ‘Drop dead’ right across that clipping. Then I stalked off.” She rolled her eyes. “It was very dramatic.”

I smiled. “Then you just need to tell Detective Lind that.”

Hannah shrugged. “All right.”

“And you probably should have a lawyer.”

“Because I wrote ‘Drop dead’ on an article from a newspaper? You can’t be serious?”

“Kathleen’s right, Hannah,” Marcus said behind me. “That’s how the system works.”

“Where am I supposed to find a lawyer?” she said. “I guess I could open up the phone book and play one potato, two potato.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave both of us a slightly annoyed look.

“I can get you a lawyer,” I said. “Marcus is right. Let the system work the way it’s designed to work.”

Hannah held up both hands in surrender. “Okay. Find me a lawyer then.”

“It won’t take very long,” I said. I took a couple of steps away from them, pulled out my cell and dialed Lita Clarke’s home number. Everett’s assistant answered on the third ring. “Hi, Lita,” I said. “It’s Kathleen.”

“Hi, Kathleen,” she said. I could hear her smile through the phone. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a lawyer.”

“Criminal or civil?”

“Criminal.”

“Brady Chapman,” she said at once.

“Chapman?” I said. “Any relation to Burtis?”

“His youngest.”

Burtis Chapman, the town bootlegger, had a son who was a lawyer? Why didn’t I know that? I glanced over at Hannah and Marcus. They were talking quietly about something.

“Lita, it’s Saturday. Do you have a number for Brady Chapman other than his office?” I asked.

“I have his cell.” She rattled off a phone number and I repeated it to myself so I wouldn’t forget it. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll call Brady,” she said, “and give him a heads-up that he’ll be hearing from you.”

It occurred to me that Lita was just about the only person I knew who, if I said I needed a lawyer, wouldn’t ask me why. “Thanks, Lita,” I said. “I owe you for this.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” she said. “I’m glad I could help.”

I ended the call and looked at my watch. I watched the second hand make three circuits of the dial and then I punched in the number that Lita had given me.

“I just talked to Lita,” Brady Chapman said after I’d explained who I was. He sounded a little like his father. “She said you need a lawyer. What’s the problem?”

I explained about Hannah and the clipping.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Eric’s Place,” I said.

“Stay put. I can be there in about ten minutes.”

I put my phone in my purse and walked back to Hannah and Marcus. “You have a lawyer,” I said to Hannah. “Brady Chapman. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Marcus nodded. “He’s good.” His blue eyes flicked to me. “Thanks.”

I nodded.

“Yes, thank you, Kathleen,” Hannah said. She looked around. “So should we just wait here?”

I pushed my bangs back off my face. “Why don’t we go have coffee while we wait?”

“All right,” she said.

We went inside. Eric raised a hand in hello from the counter. I pointed to a table along the end wall and he nodded. I held up three fingers, figuring he would know I meant three coffees.

Nicolas came over in a moment with the pot and filled our mugs. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

Marcus shook his head. “Not right now, thank you.”

“Just let me know when you need a refill,” he said and moved toward another table.

Hannah put both hands flat on the table. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have written that on the newspaper clipping. It was childish, but I was just so frustrated in the moment.” She glanced at her brother. “I forgot all about it. If I’d remembered, I would have told you.”

“It’s okay,” Marcus said. “Once Chapman gets here you can talk to Detective Lind and get this whole thing straightened out.”

I knew I needed to say something about the SUV Andrew had seen before Brady Chapman arrived. I traced the curve of my spoon handle with one finger. “Hannah, what time did you get back from Red Wing last night?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t look at the clock. It was late. Eleven thirty, maybe?” She nudged Marcus with her arm. “Do you remember?”

“Quarter to twelve, I think,” he said. “I’d only been home myself about ten minutes.” He stretched his long legs under the table.

“Okay, about quarter to twelve then,” Hannah said. “Why did you want to know?”

“Did you by any chance drive past the marina on your way to Red Wing?” I asked.

“No.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Red Wing is that way.”

“Why are you asking?” Marcus said. His hand had tightened around his cup. It was the only sign that he had slipped into police detective mode.

I took a sip of my coffee before I answered. “I talked to Andrew this afternoon. He remembers seeing a dark-colored SUV drive past the marina a couple of times while we were unloading the piece of the stage.”

“Why didn’t he tell me that last night?”

I shifted in my chair, eyeing the door and hoping that Brady Chapman would show up soon. “He probably forgot. And he didn’t even realize it was important.”

“Marcus, it doesn’t matter,” Hannah said. “It wasn’t me. I drove to Red Wing right after rehearsal and I spent hours going through everything that had been salvaged from the fire. There were boxes and bags of stuff and it all smelled like it had been barbecued.” She looked at me across the table. “Anyway, there has to be more than one dark-colored SUV like yours around here.”

She was a very good liar. She didn’t flush. She didn’t fidget. She remembered to look me in the eye. Her body seemed relaxed. But I was certain she was lying. She met my gaze just a little too much. She shared more details than she needed to and her explanations were a little too practiced.

Just then Brady Chapman walked in and looked around. I knew it had to be him—he looked so much like his father, a large man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. Burtis wore heavy work pants and flannel shirts, but Brady was dressed in an olive green fleece jacket over a black T-shirt and jeans.

I got to my feet. He caught sight of me and walked over.

“Kathleen?” he asked.

I nodded and held out my hand. He had a strong, firm grip, again like his father.

“I’ve discovered that you know my father,” he said with a smile. He had pale blue eyes—I’d once seen a husky with the same eye color—and salt-and-pepper hair.

“Yes, I do,” I said, smiling back at him. Burtis could be intimidating but I liked him. He wasn’t above playing the hick from Wild Rose Bluff when it suited him, but he was, in reality, a whip-smart, very well-read man. I didn’t remember ever seeing Brady in the library.

“I was at the house when Lita called. Dad gave me orders to make sure I helped you any way I can.”

“That’s very kind of him.” I made a mental note to thank Burtis next time I saw him.