Софи Келли - Cat Trick

He squeezed the brim of his Golden Gophers cap in his massive hand. “Right now Mayville Heights is your home—I hope it’ll keep on being that—and the sooner this Glazer business goes away, the better it’ll be for everybody.”

I wasn’t sure if he was giving me a warning or just making conversation. I did know it wasn’t a good idea to be on Burtis Chapman’s bad side.

He held up the movie. “Thanks for finding this. You have a nice day, Kathleen.” Then he turned and headed for the checkout desk.

I watched him hand the DVD case over to Mia, and I thought about his hand wrapped around the brim of his cap. I couldn’t help wondering: It hadn’t squeezed the life out of Mike Glazer, had it?

15

I went upstairs to my office, put my things away and then sat in my desk chair, swinging around to look out the window over the water. I didn’t really think that Burtis had had anything to do with what had happened to Mike. He was an intimidating man, yes. But kill someone? I just didn’t see Burtis doing that. I could picture his sinewy hand tightening into a fist and making contact with Mike’s face, but I couldn’t see it slowly and deliberately blocking his nose and mouth so he couldn’t breathe.

On the other hand, I didn’t really think Burtis had just been making friendly conversation with me, either. He was deeply loyal to the town and its people and I’d just been told to back off. That made it twice in one morning. In my mind I could see Marcus standing by his SUV, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. I hated how his cases always seemed to come between us.

I wondered what Burtis would do if I didn’t stop asking questions about Mike Glazer’s death. I rocked back in the chair. I was going to find out because I wasn’t going to back off. Burtis wasn’t the only one with a loyal streak. I’d given Harry Taylor my word that I’d see what I could find out about how Mike Glazer had died, and I hadn’t exhausted all the possibilities yet.

I twirled around in the chair and reached for the phone.

Lise Tremayne answered on the fifth ring. “Hi, Kath,” she said. “How are things in the Hundred Acre Wood?”

“Beautiful,” I said. “The sky is blue. The sun is shining. And I think Pooh and Piglet just walked by my window.”

Lise laughed. “No fair. It’s rainy and windy here.”

“You could always come for a visit.”

“I should do that,” she said. “Before you come home.”

Lise was my closest friend in Boston. She assumed I’d be heading back to the city when my contract expired. So did Ethan and Sara. I knew my dad wanted me closer, but he wouldn’t say it. And my mother, who had an opinion on everything, was for once keeping her opinion to herself.

“Lise, I need a favor,” I said.

“Favors are my specialty,” she said. I pictured her in her office at the university, her feet in some ridiculously high heels propped on the edge of her desk.

“I’m looking for some information. Do you have any contacts in Chicago?”

“Absolutely. What do you need?” Lise had contacts everywhere. She came from a big family—eight brothers and sisters. Her husband was a very talented jazz guitarist who had played all over the place. And she was warm and down-to-earth. She could talk to anyone about anything.

“Anything you can find out about Alex and Christopher Scott. They own a tour company in Chicago.”

“Wait a second. Are they both lawyers?”

“Yes,” I said, stretching one arm up over my head. “But as far as I know, they’re not practicing. Why? What do you know?” Not only did Lise know people everywhere; she also had a mind like the proverbial steel trap. I heard a squeak, which told me she was leaning back in her desk chair.

“Do you remember about five or six years ago there was a story that went viral online? This guy talked himself into a job with one of the top law firms in Chicago by paying off the caddy of one of the managing partners and then somehow improving the man’s golfing score so he won a bet with some other lawyer. The partner was impressed with the would-be lawyer’s initiative.”

“The story sounds familiar,” I said. “Then didn’t it turn out that the guy failed the bar exam?”

Lise gave a very unladylike snort of laughter. “Five times. Someone from his class outed him online.”

“It was one of the Scott brothers.”

“Uh-huh. I’m pretty sure it was Alex. And even more embarrassing, his brother passed the first time.”

“Ouch.”

“It gets better,” Lise said, “or worse, depending on your perspective. Their father was a lawyer and his father and his father. And no Scott had ever not passed the bar exam on the first try.”

I switched the phone from one hand to the other so I could stretch my other arm. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“It is. So what do you want to know?”

“Anything you can find out about their business, Legacy Tours. Rumors, gossip, anything that’s not common knowledge.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lise said. “You notice I didn’t ask if this has anything to do with a dead body.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, wishing I could somehow reach through the phone and hug her.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said.

The parcel from Mom was sitting on my desk. I reached for it, wondering what she’d sent me as I pulled the tape off the end flap.

It was a small picture of a tiny cottage, with two cats sitting on the front steps and the caption Home Is Anywhere You Are. I felt the pinch of tears and had to swallow and blink a couple of times. I knew this was my mother’s way of saying she’d support whatever decision I made. It made me miss her even more.

I took a deep breath. Then I got up and set the picture in my briefcase. I took the foil-wrapped package of brownies down to the staff room, where I put one on a plate and left the rest in the middle of the table. I poured a cup of coffee and took it and my brownie back to my office, where I ate lunch backward—brownie first, salad last—and went over paperwork.

At twelve thirty I took over the circulation desk so Mary and Mia could have their lunch. Later Abigail and I did a presentation on podcasts for one of the seniors’ book clubs. When I headed for the parking lot at quarter after five, I was glad I’d left dinner in my slow cooker. I’d hoped that Marcus might stop by, but I reminded myself that we’d disagreed about my getting involved in his cases before, and we’d always worked it out.

Owen was sitting on the top step by the back door when I got home. As soon as I unlocked the door, he followed his nose and went over to the counter to stare up at the slow cooker. The kitchen smelled like tomatoes, onions and spices. Owen tipped his head back and closed his eyes. If it smelled delicious to me, how good did it smell to him?

“That’s not for you,” I said. “That’s for Maggie.” Immediately he leaned back to look around me. “She won’t be here for another hour,” I said. “And Roma’s coming as well.”

The cat narrowed his eyes, whiskers twitching.

“Hey, I like Roma,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “And don’t forget Maggie likes her.”

Owen made a huffy noise that rumbled in his chest.

“Suit yourself,” I said, going over to peek through the glass lid of the cooker. “Roma was hoping you or your brother would try some cat food samples she was sent, to see if you liked them, but you don’t have to.”

There was a meow from the direction of the living room. Hercules was sitting in the doorway. He came about halfway across the room and meowed again.

“Would you like to be Roma’s taste tester?” I asked.

He sat down, curled his tail around his back legs and licked his lips.