Софи Келли - Cat Trick

“Mags, do you know much about Legacy Tours?” I asked.

“A little,” she said. “Why?”

I hesitated. “This stays between us?”

Her expression turned serious. She put one hand over her heart. “Of course.”

“Harry Taylor—Junior—asked me to poke around a little and see if I could maybe figure out what happened to Mike.”

“Why?”

I leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Because his sister, Elizabeth, is friends with Wren Magnusson, and Wren’s pretty much the only person who really feels bad about Mike Glazer’s death.”

“And if Elizabeth is upset, then so is Harry Senior.”

“He’s a good person. I couldn’t say no.”

Maggie shook her head and gave me a half smile.

I shrugged. “Okay, I could have said no, but I care about Harry. He feels like family to me.”

“You care about Harry. Harry cares about Elizabeth. Elizabeth cares about Wren. It’s getting complicated, Kath.”

“If I find out anything, anything, the information goes to Marcus.” I took another sip from my cup.

Maggie wrinkled her nose at me. “So I’d be wasting my time telling you what a bad idea this is.”

“Pretty much,” I said.

She pulled her feet up so she was sitting cross-legged. “Okay. Most of what I know about Legacy Tours comes from Liam. You know that they specialize in putting together travel packages for corporate clients.”

I nodded. “I did a little research. I know that Alex and Christopher Scott started the company and they brought Mike in about three years ago.”

Maggie propped her cup on one knee. “Did you know that the company was having financial problems at the time?”

I sat up a little straighter. “No.”

“Legacy wasn’t the only company Liam considered for this tour pitch. He checked every one of them very carefully. He knows someone who works for one of the big banks in Chicago. Liam found out that before Mike became a partner, Legacy had a high expense-to-revenue ratio, but in the last eighteen months things had turned around.”

She peered into her cup, frowned and got up for another marshmallow. Then she settled back on the sofa again. “I know the major reason Liam thought Legacy was the best choice for this whole tour idea was because Mike Glazer had grown up here, but I also know it was important to him that Mike was a good businessman.”

My foot was going to sleep. I stretched out my leg and rolled my ankle in slow circles. “I found an article online that hinted that Mike was taking kickbacks from some of the businesses he was dealing with.”

Maggie nodded and took another drink. “It’s probably the same article Liam found. I know he spoke to the writer. He said all the guy had were rumors and loose talk.”

“Did you know that either Alex or Christopher Scott was here the day Mike died?” I asked.

“Are you sure?”

I shifted against the arm of the sofa. “Positive. I spoke to whichever one of them it was at the library.”

Maggie started nodding her head. “I remember Liam saying that Alex was getting an award from some service organization. There was a big dinner in Minneapolis. It’s only an hour’s drive. He probably came to see Mike about something.”

I made a face and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. If Alex Scott had been at a dinner in Minneapolis, he couldn’t have been here when Mike Glazer died. But maybe his twin could have been.

“Kathleen, you don’t really think it was one of Mike’s partners who killed him, do you?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It sure would be a nice, simple solution though, wouldn’t it?”

She nodded, lacing her fingers around her cup. “It would,” she said. “But it seems to me that when someone dies around here, there’s nothing nice or simple about it.”

11

Marcus came into the library about nine thirty the next morning. Mary was working at the circulation desk. She gave me a sly smile as I walked over to meet him.

“Hi,” he said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

I noticed he was carrying a small paper bag from Eric’s, and I could smell cinnamon.

“I do,” I said. “How about a cup of coffee?”

He smiled. “That would be good.”

I turned to Mary. “Susan is reshelving books and Mia’s helping her. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. Then she turned to look at Marcus, gesturing to the bag he was holding. “Did you bring enough to share with the class, Detective? Or just sweets for the sweet?”

His eyes shifted from me to Mary. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Never mind,” I said to Mary. “I smell cinnamon and just a hint of vanilla, which most likely means there are cinnamon rolls in that bag. Cinnamon rolls that Eric made from the ‘secret’ recipe that you gave him and that neither one of you will share with anyone else.” I made a face at her, and she looked back at me all wide-eyed, nurturing grandma. “And now that I’m thinking of it, you smelled like cinnamon and vanilla when you got here this morning.” I crossed my arms over my chest, so I probably looked like every caricature of the stern librarian. “Do you have anything upstairs in your bag that you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

Mary cocked her head to one side and gave Marcus a sweet albeit slightly fake smile, eyes sparking with mischief. “Enjoy your coffee, Detective,” she said.

I inclined my head toward the stairs. “C’mon up to my office,” I said to Marcus.

“What was that about?” he asked, as we started up the stairs to the second floor.

“A little meddling,” I said, feeling my face get warm. While we were emptying the book drop before the library opened, Mary had asked if Marcus and I were a couple now. “We’re taking it slowly,” I’d told her.

“Well, if you decide you want to speed things up a little, I could teach you a few things,” she’d said. She’d pantomimed pulling off a glove with her teeth while I stood there, dumbstruck. Then she’d winked and wheeled the cart over to the checkout desk.

“Because we had dinner together at Eric’s,” he said.

I nodded as I unlocked my office door. “Have a seat and I’ll get the coffee,” I said.

He held up the brown paper bag. “You were right, by the way: Eric’s cinnamon rolls. They’re still warm.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose this will have people talking, too.”

“Probably,” I said.

A slow smile stretched across his face as he shrugged out of his jacket. “It’s a good thing no one saw us in the driveway then,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

For a moment I just stood there, looking at him and indulging in a Walter Mitty–esque fantasy in which I backed Marcus up against my desk and kissed him until his knees wobbled.

I shook my head to get rid of the picture. Okay, not something I should even be thinking about doing in the library in the middle of a workday. Or in the middle of any day, for that matter.

I gestured over my shoulder and cleared my throat. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be right back.”

When I came back with our coffee, I found Marcus standing beside my desk holding the picture frame that had been sitting next to my phone. He looked up at me. “This is your family.”

I smiled. “It is.” I set the cups down on the desktop and leaned over to look at the photograph. My friend Lise had taken it when I was back in Boston during the summer. We’d been down on the Common, throwing around a foam football and generally acting like goofy kids. In the photo, Sara and I were tackling Ethan, trying to get the ball while Mom and Dad cheered us on. We were laughing, the sun was sparkling, and looking at the picture, I felt a small ache of homesickness.