Софи Келли - Cat Trick

“You mean you’ve actually been able to put those pieces back into something I’m going to be able to sit on?”

He nodded.

“I can’t wait to see it,” I said, smiling up at him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He shrugged and his deep blue eyes never left my face. “Maybe you’ll think of something.”

I immediately thought of his mouth kissing mine and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. “I, uh, I’ll try,” I managed to get out.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” he said and headed over to pay Claire.

I watched him go because . . . well, it was fun watching his long legs move. Then I ate the last bites of my sandwich and finished my coffee. I wiped my fingers again and headed up to the counter.

Claire gave me a knowing Cheshire cat grin. “Detective Gordon already got it,” she said. She held out a small take-out bag. “This too.”

It was a still-warm chocolate-chip cookie. I felt my cheeks redden as I waited for her to say something else, but she just kept smiling at me. I took a step backward and almost fell over a chair.

“I’m just going to go then,” I said, gesturing in the general direction of the door. And I did, before I started acting any more like a goofy teenager.

18

Sunday was warm and sunny, and even Hercules was happy to spend most of the day outside while I worked in the yard. I sat on one of the big Adirondack chairs to eat lunch. Hercules took the other, eyeing the big maple for any signs of Professor Moriarty, while Owen roamed between our yard and Rebecca’s. By midafternoon I’d cleaned out the last of the flower beds and made a pile of brush and weeds for Harry to take away for composting.

Owen was sprawled over the railing of Rebecca’s gazebo, on his stomach, legs hanging down on either side, dozing in the sunshine. Hercules was poking at the compost pile with one paw. My back was stiff from bending over and I needed a break.

I stretched out in the swing, knees bent, one arm tucked under my head. “Hey, leave that alone,” I called to Hercules.

He made his way across the grass and came to stand in front of the swing, green eyes narrowed questioningly. I patted my midsection. “C’mon up,” I said.

He jumped onto my stomach, setting the swing swaying gently. I reached out to steady him with my free hand. He leaned his head back and looked all around.

“The bird’s not here,” I said. “He’s hanging out somewhere with his little bird friends. I think you can relax.”

He made a sound a lot like a sigh and lay down, stretching across my chest with his chin on my breastbone.

“And please stay out of that pile of branches and dead plants. Harry’s coming to get all that tomorrow to put in his compost pile.”

I stroked the cat’s black fur, warm from the afternoon sun. “I don’t have anything to tell him,” I said. “Mike Glazer didn’t die from anything natural—like a heart attack—but other than that, I don’t know what happened to him, or why it happened.”

I scratched the top of the cat’s head with one finger. “Got any ideas?” I asked.

He squinted at me. Either he was pondering my questions or the sun was in his eyes.

“Mike’s partners are out. They both have alibis. They were at that awards dinner in Minneapolis.” I sighed. “I keep thinking that it has to matter that he was killed here, in Mayville Heights.” I moved my arm a little under my head. “Okay,” I said. “There’s Liam.”

Hercules made a face.

“Yes, I know Maggie likes him, but Liam and Mike did have that argument outside Eric’s Place. Maybe whatever happened was an accident and Liam panicked.”

Hercules didn’t look convinced.

“Who else?” I said.

He seemed to think for a moment and then he licked his whiskers.

“Georgia?” I said. I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” She’d been awfully convincing in her explanation about losing the little spatula. Then again, whoever killed Mike had likely convinced him they weren’t a threat.

He flicked the tip of his tail and gave a snippy meow.

“Fine. Liam and Georgia are both on the list.”

Herc put his head back down again.

“What about Burtis?” I asked.

Hercules gave his head a vigorous shake. I wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no.

“What reason could he have had for killing Mike?” The cat didn’t have an answer. “Does Burtis strike you as the kind of person who would panic and run if something had happened by accident?” I blew a strand of hair off my cheek. “Liam, Georgia and Burtis,” I said. “That’s what we have. Or some mysterious person from out of town who followed Mike here to kill him because . . . because . . .” I made a face. “I don’t have a ‘because.’”

I put my arm around Hercules and sat up. I set him on the swing beside me. He shook himself and looked inquiringly at me. “I guess we might as well start with Liam. What do we know about him?” I held up one finger. “He’s a bartender at Barry’s Hat.” I stuck a second finger in the air. “He’s working on a degree in psychology.” I held up a third finger. “He’s been the driving force behind this whole tour proposal idea.”

Herc cocked his head to one side.

I nodded. “Yeah. That might be important.”

I knew almost nothing about Liam Stone, I realized, other than he was good-looking and liked to help women in trouble. He hadn’t borrowed books or anything else from the library. People’s borrowing habits were a good way to get some insight into what secret dreams they had and who they really were.

“Maggie said Liam likes to rescue damsels in distress,” I said to Hercules. Then I remembered what she’d also said about Liam rescuing Wren Magnusson the night Mike Glazer had been killed.

I folded one arm over my face and groaned into my shoulder. “Liam has an alibi,” I said, letting my hand slide down over the back of my head. I nodded slowly. “I bet Marcus knew that. That’s why he didn’t seem too concerned about that fight between Liam and Mike.”

Hercules put both paws on my leg.

“That leaves us with Georgia, Burtis and some nameless, faceless person from Chicago . . . or, or anywhere for that matter.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you know what the problem is?”

He looked around. Searching for an answer to my question or doing a quick spot check to make sure his friend the grackle wasn’t back?

“We don’t know anything about Mike other than what Rebecca and Harrison told us. And the fact that everyone who’d dealt with him here in town thought he was a jerk.”

Rebecca had described Mike as being “full of life.” Harry Senior had said he was “young and reckless.” And they’d both talked about how the death of his brother had changed Mike.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to recall Harrison’s exact words: If anyone had predicted that one of the Glazer boys was going to end up dead the way he did, well, no one would have figured it to be Gavin.

I opened my eyes and looked down into Hercules’s green ones. “Everyone says that Mike changed when his brother died. And Harrison told me no one would have expected Gavin to die ‘the way he did.’ Maybe that’s where the answer to this whole thing is. Maybe what we need to do next is to find out just exactly how Gavin Glazer did die.”

19

The problem was I couldn’t find any details about Gavin Glazer’s death online. His car had missed a turn on Wild Rose Bluff and gone down over an embankment. The weather was good, the road bare and dry. I scrolled through two weeks’ worth of newspapers online for the period of time after the accident, looking for follow-up articles and reading the Letters to the Editor. There was some speculation that a deer might have darted in front of the car, and when Gavin had swerved to avoid it, he’d lost control of the vehicle, but that’s all it was—speculation.