Софи Келли - A Tale Оf Two Kitties

“Mrr,” he said, and then he was gone across the grass.

I stood for a moment on the steps, where I could see into Rebecca’s backyard. Mariah had set her coffee on the gazebo railing and stowed her backpack on the seat below it. I watched as she unrolled the long yellow extension cord and went to plug it into the outside outlet.

When I stepped back into the porch I found Hercules sitting on the bench looking out the window. He followed me into the kitchen and I found myself telling him about the letter from Simon’s mother as I gathered up the laundry. “I don’t know what I was hoping for,” I said. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there is no connection between Meredith Janes’s accident and Leo’s death.”

About ten thirty I walked my way across the kitchen floor to the back door. Hercules and I moved outside to sit on the steps, me with a cup of coffee—and him with a sardine cracker. We’d been sitting there about five minutes when I saw Owen coming across the grass. He had something in his mouth. What were the chances he hadn’t taken something that belonged to Harry?

I held out my hand as he came up the stairs and Owen dropped what looked to be a tiny piece of molded plastic in my hand. He looked at me with a very self-satisfied look on his face.

“What did you do?” I said.

“Merow,” he replied. He leaned over and nudged the small piece of orange plastic with his nose then looked at me.

Hercules leaned down and looked at my hand then looked at his brother. I’d had moments where it almost seemed like they could communicate without making a sound, and this was one of those times.

After a long moment, Hercules, like his brother, looked expectantly at me.

“Okay, you furry little kleptomaniac, what am I supposed to see here?” I picked up the piece of orange plastic by one end and held it up to study it. It was eight or nine inches long and at first I’d thought it was a disposable knife, but now I realized it wasn’t.

“It looks like an airplane propeller,” I said. I looked from Hercules to Owen, who both seemed to be waiting for me to make a connection.

A small airplane propeller.

Harry wasn’t a model maker as far as I knew. I turned the strip of plastic over in my fingers. Owen continued to stare unblinkingly at me and one of his ears twitched. He was getting annoyed that it was taking me so long to make the connection.

“All I see is a little propeller for a little airplane.” As I said the words aloud the last piece fell into place in my head. I looked from one cat to the other. “A drone is a little airplane.”

Owen sat down on the step, seemingly satisfied that I’d figured things out.

I looked across the yard. I could see Harry and Mariah working on the gazebo steps. What had he said more than once about his daughter? “She’s good with anything mechanical.”

I knew there was no way Harry had a drone, but could Mariah have one? Could she be the person who’d been following cars on the highway? And if she was, why was she doing it?

I sat there trying to make sense of everything when Harry came across the yard. “I’m just heading to the lumberyard for another one-by-six,” he said. “We’re just about finished with the gazebo and then we’ll start on the end of that raised bed of yours.”

“Thanks,” I said. I waited until I heard his truck pull out of the driveway and then I started across the backyard. Owen came with me. Hercules stayed on the steps.

Mariah was sweeping up sawdust inside the gazebo. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “Dad just went to get a couple of boards. He should be right back.”

“I saw him,” I said. “I wanted to ask you something.” I held out the orange propeller. “Is this yours?”

Her face flooded with color. “I, umm, I don’t know,” she said. She couldn’t quite keep her eyes on mine.

“It’s a propeller,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it’s for a drone.” I gestured at her backpack still lying on the wooden gazebo seat. “I’m sorry, I think Owen took it.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Are you going to tell my dad?”

“Mariah, have you been following cars out on the highway and down by the marina with it?”

“A few . . . maybe,” she said.

“That’s really dangerous.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not, because I didn’t do it when there was a lot of traffic and I didn’t get that close to the cars.”

“But you were a distraction,” I said, moving my hands around in frustration. “Those drivers were all paying attention to your drone, not the road. Someone could have been hurt.”

She swallowed hard. “I never thought about that.”

“What were you doing anyway?”

“I’m making a movie for my media studies class. There’s a camera attached to the drone.”

I suddenly knew why Mariah hadn’t mentioned the power was off at the library. “You were out filming the other night when I had supper with your dad and your grandfather. You weren’t at the library.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t.”

“How many other times?”

She listed off five other days.

“Where exactly were you filming?” I asked, an idea buzzing in the back of my brain.

“One time I was down by the marina. The others I was on the highway.” She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty sure you are, but it might not be as bad as you think.”

When Harry came back Mariah confessed what she’d been doing. She didn’t make any excuses. Harry pulled off his Twins caps and smoothed a hand over his scalp. “You could have caused an accident,” he said. “What were you thinking? Somebody could have been hurt. Somebody could have been killed.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice, swallowing back tears that were threatening to fall.

“Mariah might be able to help someone with that footage she shot,” I said.

Harry looked at me, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

I explained about Simon driving around the night his father had been killed. “Mariah was flying her drone, filming up on the highway that night. I know it’s a long shot, but she might have filmed Simon’s car. She might be able to prove that he had nothing to do with Leo’s death.”

Harry looked at his daughter. “Do you have all the stuff you filmed?”

She nodded. “On my computer.”

He turned to me. “Kathleen, would you call Marcus and see if he can meet us at the police station in”—he looked at his watch—“about forty-five minutes?”

“I will,” I said.

“Let’s get things cleaned up here,” he said to his daughter. “Then we’re going home to get your computer.”

A chastened Mariah picked up the broom again. Owen had been sitting on the railing listening to the entire conversation. Now he tipped his head to one side, looked inquiringly at Mariah and meowed softly. “I said you could lie on my backpack, not go through it,” she muttered.

Owen hung his head.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her expression softening. “It’s mine. I’m going to be grounded for the rest of my life.”

“Or longer,” Harry said darkly.

I picked up Owen and headed home to call Marcus.

• • •

Mary had an expression she’d use when it seemed like everything was going wrong at the library: “Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you . ” This turned out to be one of those times when we ate the bear. The camera Mariah had attached to the drone produced excellent-quality video, and she was a skilled flyer. About a third of the way through the video she had shot the night Leo was killed she picked up Simon’s car. The time stamp made it clear that he couldn’t have been at the apartment killing his father.