Софи Келли: A Night's Tail

Abigail turned on our computers and started on the contents of the book drop. I went to my office to call Harrison Taylor. Harrison was in his early eighties and the first time I’d seen him—in a chair in my backyard—I’d thought I was looking at Santa Claus. He had thick white hair and a snowy beard. There was generally a twinkle in his eye as well.

Harrison was a wellspring of information about Mayville Heights and the surrounding area. He’d done one well-received talk about the history of the town and due to popular demand—and the fact that he’d lost a wager about attendance at the first talk—he was going to do a second.

“You set me up, Kathleen,” he said. I knew from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t really annoyed that I’d won our bet. Harrison was charming, well-spoken and an excellent public speaker. His talk had been standing-room only, just as I’d expected, which is why I’d made the wager in the first place. We’d been sitting in Fern’s Diner when I’d first made my proposition. It hadn’t been hard to talk him into saying yes.

“You come and talk for about half an hour about the history of the town—time period to be determined—and then you answer questions. If my meeting room isn’t full I’ll treat you to the biggest steak Peggy has out back ,” I’d said, tipping my head in the direction of the diner’s kitchen.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” I told him now. “Would you like to hazard a guess about how many people are going to show up this time?”

His laughter boomed through the phone. “Not likely. I may have been born at night, young lady, but it wasn’t last night.”

It was a busy morning at the library. The sunshine seemed to bring out more people than usual, that and the fact that several teachers at the high school had assigned papers due in the next two weeks. When we closed for the day at lunchtime I headed over to Eric’s Place to meet Ethan and Derek for lunch.

I decided to leave my truck in the lot and walk over. The streets in Mayville Heights that ran from one end of town to the other all followed the curve of the shoreline, so it was a short walk to the café. The snow that had fallen earlier in the week was already melting and the sidewalks were dry and bare for the most part. Winter in Mayville Heights, Minnesota, came in three varieties: About to Snow, Snowing and Get Out the Shovel, and by March we were all grateful for a sunny day with the temperature above freezing.

As I headed down the sidewalk toward the café I caught sight of Derek standing nose to nose with Lewis Wallace, the drunk from the night before. My stomach sank. I could see belligerence in the businessman’s stance. I remembered the arrogance I’d noted in his body language and demeanor the night before and realized I’d been unrealistic to think the problem had passed.

I started walking faster but before I got to them Ethan stepped between the two men, pushing Derek back, one hand shoving hard against his chest. At the same time he said something to Wallace, pointing down the sidewalk with his other hand. Wallace made one last comment to the two of them that I couldn’t hear before he walked away, making a dismissive gesture with one hand. He got into a Big Bird–yellow Hummer wedged in at the curb and drove off.

As I reached them Derek pushed Ethan’s arm away and took a couple of steps back, holding one hand in the air like a warning. His face was flushed and he raked a hand back through his hair the way Marcus did when something was bothering him.

Ethan was trying to say something to his friend. Bad idea, I knew. I caught his arm and he turned, just seeming to realize that I was there. “Give him a minute,” I said. Derek had turned away from us and I knew the best thing to do was let him be while he got his anger under control.

Anger flashed in Ethan’s hazel eyes. “I’m not six, Kathleen,” he snapped. He shook off my hand.

I took a breath and let it out. “I know that. I just want to know what’s going on because I need to know if this is something Marcus should hear about.” I lowered my voice slightly. “He didn’t make an issue out of what happened last night, which let that guy off the hook, but don’t forget he’s not the only one who got to walk away.”

Ethan folded one arm over the top of his head, his fingers digging into the bottom of his skull. “I’m sorry. We were just coming out of that bookstore. The dipwad from last night had right then parked his big-ass vehicle and gotten out. When he saw Derek he came across the sidewalk and got in his face almost like they knew each other or something. What a jerk!”

“Yeah, he is,” Derek said behind us.

I turned to look at him. The angry flush had faded from his cheeks.

“He’s a first-class jerk. Forget about him. I don’t want to waste one more bit of air on that guy. C’mon, I’m hungry. Let’s have lunch.” He looked at Ethan. “And I sort of have this idea for a song that’s been rolling around my head all morning.” His gaze shifted to me. “I’m good. I swear.”

Ethan bumped me with his hip as we started for the door. “A word of warning. Derek is about to fall down a rabbit hole.”

“I am not,” Derek retorted.

Ethan just looked at his friend, a smile playing around his mouth.

“Okay, so maybe I can get a little distracted when I’m working on a song.”

“A little?” Ethan snorted.

We stepped inside the café and Claire came around the counter with a smile. She carried three menus and, because she knew me well, the coffeepot.

Ethan immediately stood up straighter and smiled. Talk about getting distracted.

“Hi, Kathleen,” Claire said. Her red curls were pulled up in two pigtails and she was wearing her dark-framed glasses instead of contacts. “Would you like that table by the window?” She gestured at one of my favorite places to sit in the small restaurant. I could see all the way to the water out of the front window.

“Please,” Ethan said. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble. We can sit closer to the counter if that would be easier for you.” Like Mom, he was a bit of a flirt.

“Claire, this is my brother, Ethan, and our friend Derek,” I said.

She smiled at Ethan then turned to Derek. “You were in yesterday for lunch.”

“You recommended that noodle bowl,” he said. “It was pretty good.”

“That does sound good,” I said as we headed toward our table. I took the chair closest to the window. Ethan sat next to me and Derek took a seat across from us.

Claire handed us menus, then reached for the heavy stoneware mug in front of me and poured a cup of coffee. “How about you two?” she asked, looking from Derek to Ethan.

Both men nodded.

“Do you need some time with the menu?” she asked after she’d filled the guys’ cups.

“I don’t,” I said. “I think I’ll have the ramen bowl.”

“Me too,” Derek said. He’d only given the menu a quick glance.

“I’m game,” Ethan said. “Unless there’s something else you’d recommend.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“I think you’ll like the ramen bowl,” Claire said. She shot me a quick bemused glance. I was pretty sure she already had Ethan’s number.

“It won’t be long,” she added. She collected our menus and headed for the kitchen.

I added cream and sugar to my coffee and then focused my attention on Derek. I really did want to get to know him better. “Derek, do you mind telling me a little about how you write a song?” I asked. “Which comes first? The words or the music?”

“Well, that depends,” he said, propping his elbows on the table. “A lot of times a few words or a sentence come to me and the song starts from there. Other times it’s a few notes of music.”