Софи Келли - Cat Trick

“Sara and Ethan are twins, right?” Marcus asked.

I nodded. “I think I told you that my parents were married, divorced and then they got married again. After the divorce, they started seeing each other—no one knew—and then all of a sudden Ethan and Sara were on the way. I was a teenager. I was mortified.” He handed me the frame, and I set the picture back on the desk again. “Mom said she decided it didn’t matter how crazy my father made her; she was just happier with him than without him.”

Marcus picked up his coffee, and I gestured to one of the two chairs in front of my desk.

“I just realized that I don’t know if you have any brothers or sisters,” I said.

“I have one sister,” he said. “She’s younger.”

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. I reached for my own cup and sat down. He took the two buns out of the paper bag and set them on the plate I’d brought in.

“So what’s up?” I asked.

“What makes you think something’s up?” he asked. “Maybe I just wanted to bring you a cinnamon roll. You’ve brought me coffee lots of times.”

I leaned over and broke off a piece of one of the buns. It was so good. Better than any cinnamon roll I made. I’d never been able to duplicate Mary and Eric’s secret recipe, and when I asked Mary why that recipe was always so much better, she’d just grin and say, “Because we make them with love.” I always made mine with a couple of cats eyeballing my every move.

“I have gotten you coffee lots of time,” I said. “I just brought you that cup.” I gestured to the mug in his big hands. “And the cinnamon roll is delicious. Thank you. Now, what’s up?”

He smiled and shook his head. “You were right. The button Owen found came from a jacket that belongs to one of Mike’s partners—Alex Scott.”

“He was here in Mayville Heights the day Mike died. I saw him at the library, and he spoke to me on his way out at Eric’s. Do you remember?”

Marcus nodded. “But he wasn’t actually in town when Glazer died.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. He was in Minneapolis at a benefit dinner. There are photos and video online.”

That’s what Maggie had said. Marcus was good. “Alex and Christopher Scott are identical twins,” I said. “One of them could have been at that benefit and the other could have been here.”

“They were both there.”

“Maybe one brother was pretending to be both brothers while the other was here.” It sounded silly even to me.

Marcus pointed at my laptop. “Could I borrow your computer for a second?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

He went around the desk and leaned over the keyboard. After a minute, he beckoned to me. I went to stand beside him. An image of Alex and Christopher Scott, grinning and soaked with sweat, arms around each other’s shoulders, filled the screen.

The two men were the spitting image of each other, down to their close-cropped hair and stubbled chins—except one of them had an elaborate dragon tattoo curling around his right arm.

Marcus held up a finger. “Hang on.” He brought up another photo. This one, I guessed, had been taken at the benefit in Minneapolis. One of the two Scott brothers was standing with three other people, a drink in his hand. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, and the cuffs of his white shirt had been rolled back. There was no tattoo.

“That’s Alex,” Marcus said. “And this”—he clicked the mouse pad—“is Christopher Scott.”

It could have been the same person. Christopher Scott was wearing the same dark pants and white shirt. His sleeves weren’t rolled back, but I could see a bit of the dragon tattoo beyond the edge of his shirt cuff.

“So much for wrapping up the case in a nice, neat package.” I moved back around the desk.

“It doesn’t usually work that way,” Marcus said, leaning against the side of my desk.

“There’s something else you should know,” I said, breaking off another bite of the cinnamon roll before I sat down again. I knew Roma had spoken to him, but I didn’t want to keep secrets.

“What is it?”

“Liam Stone had an argument with Mike on the sidewalk in front of Eric’s Place. I’m not saying I think he had anything to do with what happened to Mike; I’m just trying—”

“—not to interfere in my case?” he finished. He gave me a smile that made his blue eyes crinkle. “I know about the argument. Roma called me, and more than one person heard them.” He looked expectantly at me.

“What?” I said.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that really you think Liam had nothing to do with Glazer’s death?”

I shook my head and took another sip from my mug. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t know who killed Mike,” I said, setting my cup back on the desk. “I like Liam, but I don’t know him that well.” I smiled sweetly at Marcus. “So I’m not going to waste a perfectly good argument.” I held out the plastic top to the mug he was holding. “Here.”

“What is it?” he said, taking it from me.

“The lid. It’s a travel mug. You can take the rest of your coffee with you.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He couldn’t quite stop the beginnings of a smile from pulling at his mouth.

“No,” I said. “But in the last couple of minutes you’ve scratched your arm twice so you could check your watch.”

He stared at me for a minute. He rarely blushed, but there was a flush of pink on the tops of his cheekbones. “I only scratched it once,” he said finally. “The second time I was pushing my sleeve back.” The smile got loose completely then. “I do have to go, though.”

He leaned across the desk and broke the second cinnamon roll in half. Then he snapped the lid on the coffee mug, setting the bun half on top. Straightening up, he took a couple of steps closer to me. He was so close, I could feel the warmth coming off his body. “Thank you for the coffee, Kathleen,” he said.

My mouth was dry and I had to swallow before I answered. “You’re welcome,” I said. “Thank you for the cinnamon roll.”

We stood there for a long moment, looking at each other, just a little bit closer than we probably should have been standing, and maybe in another minute or so I really would have backed him against the desk and given him a good romance-novel kissing, but I didn’t get the chance because Mary cleared her throat in the doorway. Marcus immediately took a step backward and we both turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said.

She didn’t look sorry. She looked like a smug little elf. All she needed was a pair of curly-toed shoes.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“There’s a bit of a problem with a book delivery.”

“I didn’t order any books,” I said.

Mary nodded. “I know. That’s the problem. Delivery guy says he has six boxes of books for us.”

“I have to get back to work,” Marcus said.

I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He raised his cup and eased by Mary, smiling at her as he passed. I grabbed my keys and locked my office door while Mary waited, the same smug elvish grin on her face.

“I really am sorry I interrupted you two,” she said as we started down the stairs. “I hope it wasn’t an important conversation.” She put a little stress on the word “important.”

“I’m ignoring you,” I said darkly, keeping my eyes forward.

She gave a snort of laughter. “That never works, Kathleen.” She scampered down the last four steps ahead of me. At the bottom, she looked back at me over her shoulder and gave me a saucy wink.

The day of the annual library book sale, at the beginning of the summer, Susan had shown up wearing her favorite Younger, Stronger, Faster T-shirt. Mary had taken off her sweater to show off her own shirt. It said, Old, Sneaky and Stubborn . At least three people had tried to buy it from her.