Софи Келли - A Night's Tail

For a moment I truly didn’t know what to say. “I don’t understand,” I finally managed to mumble.

“No, you don’t,” Ethan replied, a little aggravation in his voice now. “You treat me like I’m still running around in footie pajamas, Kath. I have a mother. I don’t need another one.”

I looked at him and suddenly all I could see was baby Ethan with his hair going every which way just like it was now, smiling and holding up his arms as I reached to lift him out of his crib in the middle of the night so we could watch cheesy late movies on TV. I’d always been more than just an older sibling with Ethan and Sara and not just because of the age difference between us. Because our mom and dad were actors and could get very caught up in whichever characters they were creating, sometimes it had seemed like I was the only adult in the house.

A lump of guilt knotted in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I said. I knew better than anyone what Mom could be like when she wanted details on some part of our lives. I’d been getting that kind of third degree for longer than Ethan had. No wonder he didn’t tell me that he had a bit of a crush on Maggie, or anything else for that matter.

“Look, I get that you want to take care of me,” he said. “But I swear I can take care of myself. I shave. I pay taxes. I eat my vegetables—most of the time.” A hint of a smile flashed across his face.

“I know that,” I said, fighting the urge to reach over and smooth down a particularly wayward clump of his hair. “You’re smart. You’re talented. You’re funny.”

He made a “keep going” gesture with one hand. “You don’t have to stop.”

I smiled at him. “I really am sorry.”

He nodded. “I get that, Kath.” He leaned back against the refrigerator. “You get that I had nothing to do with that man’s death, right?”

“Of course I do,” I said.

“Milo wanted to wash his hair before we went out that night. You know how obsessive he is about it. The guy brought three bottles of conditioner with him. So I dropped him and Derek off at the place where they’re staying and told them I’d be back. I went and picked up the muffins and I left them in the meeting room. That’s it. I didn’t see Wallace.”

I held up one hand. “Hang on a second. How did you get into the room? That door should have been locked.”

He shrugged and gave me a sly smile. “I’m cute.”

I sighed. “You charmed some woman into letting you into that meeting room, didn’t you?”

“Front desk clerk. I just wanted to leave the muffins there. I knew if I brought them home you’d ask me a whole bunch of questions.” He narrowed his gaze at me. “And I don’t want her to get in trouble or fired for that, by the way.”

“You bought them for Maggie, didn’t you?” I said.

“Yes, I bought them for Maggie,” he said. He at least had the good grace to blush. “Now do I get the speech that she’s your friend and she’s too old for me?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

He narrowed his gaze at me. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But I had a whole thing about how wrong you are,” he said.

“You don’t need it,” I said. “Like you said, you’re a grown man, not a little kid. I promise I’ll try harder not to cramp your style, as they say.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Nobody says that, Kath.”

I kissed his cheek. “Love you,” I said. I picked up my computer and headed for the stairs.

“Love you, too,” he called after me.

Hercules was in my bedroom. The closet door was partway open and he was nudging one of my black flats across the floor. He made a face and his tail whipped across the floor when I bent down and picked up the shoe. It was the third time I’d caught him doing the same thing.

“Why do you keep taking my shoe out of the closet?” I asked. He looked from the black flat to me, his green gaze steady and unblinking. I wasn’t sure if he had some nefarious purpose for trying to swipe my footwear or he was making a statement about my fashion choices. Given how vocal he could be when I was getting dressed, I kind of suspected the latter.

I put the shoe back in the closet, then bent down and picked up the little tuxedo cat. “Ethan came clean to Marcus,” I told him. “It was just me that he didn’t tell about buying those muffins.” I didn’t add that was because I was a bossy, interfering big sister. Hercules licked my chin, which might have been a gesture of comfort or might have been because I had a bit of lo mein sauce on my face.

I knew Marcus didn’t suspect Ethan. He didn’t know Lewis Wallace, and other than the incident when he and Derek ran into the man on the sidewalk outside Eric’s Place, Ethan had never spoken to him. No one would seriously think of him as a suspect. But he was my baby brother and I was a little—or from his perspective, more than a little—overprotective.

“We have to figure out who killed Lewis Wallace,” I said.

“Mrr,” Hercules agreed. He put one white-tipped paw on my hand. He was in.

chapter 9

When Rebecca let me into her kitchen the next morning I discovered that Hercules was already there, sitting on a chair next to Everett at the table, a couple of organic fish crackers on a napkin in front of him.

“Rebecca, why is my cat at your breakfast table?” I asked.

“It’s Friday,” she said, picking up a heavy brown stoneware mug from the counter and making her way over to the coffeepot.

“I’m aware of what day it is,” I said.

“Hercules has breakfast with Everett on Tuesdays and Fridays. Where else would he be sitting, dear? On the floor?”

There was something about Rebecca, maybe it was her innate kindness, that made people care about her, that made them—me included—just a little protective, at which, for the most part, Rebecca just smiled. On the other hand, underneath that gray hair and angelic smile there was a steel-hard stubborn streak.

Hercules having a place at her table sounded so perfectly logical that I knew better than to argue with her. I saw a hint of a smile on Everett’s face but he just picked up his own coffee cup and didn’t say a word.

Rebecca set the steaming mug in front of me. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the blue cut-glass sugar bowl.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked.

I nodded. “I have. Coffee is fine.”

“Well if you change your mind I have fruit and yogurt and cinnamon raisin bread.” She smiled. “I wanted to tell you that I heard about that unpleasant incident at The Brick last week and while I don’t generally condone violence, I don’t care for bullies, especially people who mistreat animals and don’t show respect for our veterans. I would have reacted just the way your friend did. I hope there haven’t been any repercussions for him.”

I shook my head. “There haven’t. And for the record, Derek is a good guy. He doesn’t go around getting into altercations in bars.” At least I hoped he didn’t.

“Is Derek the young man with the beard that I’ve seen at Eric’s a couple of times?”

I took a sip of my coffee. “He is.”

“He’s quite good-looking,” Rebecca said. “He has lovely dark eyes.”

I choked on my coffee. “Rebecca!” I sputtered.

“I can see,” she said. She gave Everett a loving look across the table and then turned her attention to me. “I’m married,” she added matter-of-factly, “not dead, my dear.” She took the chair opposite me then and folded her hands primly in her lap. “I also heard what happened at the hotel. I’m sorry you had to find Mr. Lewis.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Marcus is on the case,” Everett said. He didn’t frame the words as a question, which told me he already knew Marcus was investigating.