Софи Келли - Final Catcall

I sat back down. “There’s a woman who lives farther out this road called the Jam Lady. She made it.”

She smeared a thick layer of marmalade on half her muffin and took a bite. “Tell me about Hugh Davis. You didn’t say much and when I talked to Abigail on the phone, I noticed she very skillfully changed the subject. So did Ben, for that matter.”

I picked up my mug and threaded my fingers around it. “He was shot.”

“Shot? What happened? Was it some kind of robbery?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “He was shot down by the marina. There’s a lookout by the water.” I set my hot chocolate down on the table again. “There’s something I didn’t tell you on the phone.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “You found Hugh’s body.”

“Actually, I did,” I said. “But that wasn’t what I need to tell you.” I took a breath and let it out. “Andrew’s here.”

She frowned and put down the piece of muffin she’d been holding. “Andrew? Your Andrew?”

“He’s not my Andrew anymore, but yes.”

“Why?”

I folded my arms over my chest. “He wants me to come back to Boston when my contract here ends and give us another chance.”

“And you said?”

“I said no.” I glanced down at Hercules and Owen. The bag of sardine crackers was on the counter. I leaned sideways, snagged it with a couple of fingers and gave each of them two crackers. “I care about Andrew,” I said, straightening up and brushing off my fingers. “But I’m not getting back together with him. I’ve changed.”

“I know you have,” she said, adding a little more tea to her cup. “And Andrew’s not Detective Gordon.”

“What?” I said. I could feel my face getting red. I’d told Mom about feeding the cats with Marcus, but I hadn’t said anything else.

“Remember the pictures you brought when you came home?”

“I remember.” Ethan had teased me because I’d printed copies of the photos instead of just showing them on my phone.

“There was one of the detective. Whenever you were showing the pictures to someone, when you got to that one of him, you smiled. I don’t even think you know you did it, sweetie, but you did.” She leaned forward and smiled at me. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

I shook my head. “No, there isn’t. We had dinner a few times, but Marcus is a police officer.” I sighed. “And that just keeps getting in the way.”

She put her hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you can’t find a way around it?”

“I don’t think so. Marcus can be pretty black and white about some things.”

She put a hand up to her mouth, but I could still see the smile.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Sweetie, you can be pretty black and white about certain things, too. Detective Gordon sounds like he’s perfect for you.”

“I’m not rigid about things.”

“Really?” Her eyes were sparkling. She picked up her teacup. “All right. I’m not going to argue with you.” She took a sip from her cup. “Could we change places?”

“Why? Is something wrong?” I said.

“The light coming through the door makes me squint.” She patted her cheeks. “I don’t need any more wrinkles. HD already makes me look like I’m ninety.”

I pulled out the chair to my left. “You can sit here.”

She gestured at me. “You just scoot over and I’ll sit at your place. It’s easier.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I know what you’re doing,” I said.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to show me that I can be stubborn and rigid because I don’t want to switch seats with you.”

“So slide over,” she said, making a move like she was going to get up.

I got my cup and moved to the chair beside me.

Mom smiled and sipped her tea.

“So are you going to sit there or not?”

She shook her head. “No. I think I’m going to sit here after all.”

She put more marmalade on another bite of muffin and popped it in her mouth.

I shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. It shouldn’t have been a problem. All four chairs were exactly the same, but this one didn’t feel right. I moved back to where I’d been sitting. “This doesn’t prove you were right,” I said.

“Of course not,” she said solemnly.

“Tell me what you know about Hugh Davis,” I said, mostly to change the subject.

Mom yawned and stretched. She reminded me of the cats. Owen was leaning against my leg now, while Hercules was still watching my mother with interest. “I’d heard his name, but I really didn’t know anything about him, so after I talked to you I made a few phone calls.”

“And?”

“And he was a decent enough director, although he hadn’t done much that was significant in the last year and a half.”

That would explain why he’d been pushing Hannah so hard.

“Do you know why?” I asked.

Mom set her cup down. “He may have been a decent director, but it appears he wasn’t a decent person.”

“Not a decent person how?” I asked. “Did he drink too much? Cheat on his taxes?”

She shook her head. “I heard from an unimpeachable source that he pushed one of his leading ladies so hard she started cutting herself and another ended up having some kind of breakdown.”

“Wait a minute. Did Ben know that?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “At first all anyone would say was that Hugh could be ‘challenging.’ That can mean anything from ‘he throws things in rehearsal’ to ‘he likes to wear frilly undies.’”

I pulled both feet up under me. “Those are pretty serious accusations. Are you sure your source is accurate?”

“Very.”

I blew out a breath. “Do you know who the two actresses were?”

She poured the last of the tea into her cup. “That I don’t know. But it strikes me that they’d have family and friends. If someone treated you that badly, I don’t know what I’d do.” She smothered another yawn.

“How about you go fill the tub full of hot water while I make you a fresh pot of tea?” I said, getting to my feet.

“Umm, that does sound good.” She stood up as well and wrapped me in a warm hug. “I’m so glad I decided to come, Katydid.”

“Me too,” I said.

I put the kettle on to boil again and took Mom up to her room. When the tea was ready I poured a cup and took it up to her. She’d already put on a fuzzy yellow robe and taken off her makeup. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looked more like she was my older sister than my mother.

“Take your time,” I said, kissing her cheek.

I went back to the kitchen and started clearing the table. Owen was sniffing Mom’s purse, which she’d left on the floor next to her chair. “There’s nothing in that for you, nosy,” I said. One ear twitched, but that was the only indication I got that he’d heard me.

Hercules wound his way around my legs and I bent down and picked him up. “So Hugh Davis wasn’t a very nice person,” I said.

He murped his agreement.

“Mom’s right, you know. Those women must have family and friends who wanted Hugh to pay for what he did. So how do we find out if that’s what someone did?”

19

Maggie called about eight thirty that evening. She sounded tired but not at all worried. “It went well,” she said. “Now it’s in the hands of the universe.”

“My fingers are crossed.” Owen had climbed onto my lap when I answered the phone and he put one paw on the receiver. “And Owen sends his love.”

Maggie laughed. “Thanks. I know they’ll both help. Give Owen a scratch from me.”