Софи Келли - A Tale Оf Two Kitties

Owen and Rebecca had a great visit. She fussed over him; he sympathized with her. I left with a promise that I’d be back tomorrow after tai chi. Owen climbed into the bag without argument.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs he poked his head out for a look around but stayed put. It wasn’t until I stepped outside that the bag wriggled against my leg. I moved to grab him but he was already half out. He jumped down to the walkway and disappeared around a large evergreen shrub.

“Owen!” I hissed.

No answer. Why was I wasting time? He wasn’t going to answer and he wasn’t going to come back. It would be faster to just go after him.

The yard of the big brick house wasn’t very large, not a surprise given how close we were to the downtown. There was a small outbuilding by the back entrance. I found Owen pawing at the door.

“Okay, what are you doing?” I said, folding my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

He looked at the door and he looked at me.

“It’s probably where they keep the garbage cans,” I said. “There’s nothing in there for you.”

He continued to look at me unblinkingly.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Mrr,” he said: Maybe we shouldn’t be, but we’re going to.

There was no sign of anyone else around. I opened the door. Owen squeezed inside and I slipped in as well. There was enough light from a nearby streetlight to see the three garbage cans stacked by the back wall. I lifted the lid of the first one. The empty package of bacon told me it was Everett and Rebecca’s trash. The second can was empty. The third can held orange peels, an empty pomegranate juice container and at the very bottom a take-out bag from Biggie Burgers.

Owen sat on the top of the empty can and sniffed the air.

“You were right,” I said. “Victor Janes had a Biggie Burger for supper.” I pulled out the fast food bag. Underneath it, half hidden under another crumpled fast food bag, I saw the edge of something that looked familiar. Heart thumping in my chest, I reached into the garbage again and pulled out a small plastic container. It was empty but I’d seen many similar ones. I knew stage makeup well and I knew the container had held a tinted base. I rummaged in the bottom of the trash container and found another mostly empty tub of white crème color, a bruise-and-abrasions wheel and a half-used black pencil. I could only think of one reason Victor Janes had stage makeup. He wasn’t sick. He was using it to create the illusion that he was.

I set the containers on top of the adjacent garbage can, pulled out my phone, took several pictures of the makeup and then put everything back. I used hand sanitizer to clean my hands and then I picked up Owen and made my way back to the truck.

I’d just set the cat on the seat when my phone rang. I climbed in next to him, took a deep breath and got my phone out of my pocket. I recognized the number as the library’s. It was Mary.

“Bridget hit a deer up on the highway,” she said. Her voice had a shaky edge. “She’s all right but they’re still taking her to the hospital as a precaution. I know she’s a grown adult, but she’s still my baby.”

“Go,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Go,” I repeated. “I’m just leaving Rebecca and Everett’s. Tell Abigail I’ll be there soon.”

I looked at Owen. “We have to get back to the library. And then we’re going to have to call Marcus. I think Victor Janes has been lying about being sick, probably as a way to generate sympathy and work his way back into his brother’s life. It was likely the only thing he thought would work after twenty years of estrangement. If he’s lying about that then maybe he’s lying about some other things, too.”

I had the photos of the makeup on my phone, makeup I felt certain Victor had been using to make himself look gaunt and pale. Would they be enough to convince Marcus that Victor had killed his brother? I started the truck. As soon as I got back to my office I’d find out.

The parking lot was almost empty when I got to the library. Monday nights were sometimes that way.

“Hi,” I said to Abigail as I came in the front door. Owen poked his head out of the bag.

“Merow,” he said.

She smiled. “Owen, it’s so good of you to finish Mary’s shift for her.”

He tipped his head to one side and gave her his best cute cat look.

“You’re such a hambone,” I said. I took him up to my office, gave him a drink and a couple of crackers and went back down to help Abigail. I tried Marcus but the call went to voice mail. “Call me,” I said. “It’s important.”

My phone rang about an hour later just as I was starting the walk through the building. I’d been expecting it to be Mary or Marcus, but it was Celia Hunter.

“Hello, Kathleen,” she said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No,” I said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I’m hoping there’s something I can do for you,” she said.

“All right.”

“You mentioned that Leo got a key in the mail.”

“Yes,” I said, tucking a book back in place on its shelf.

“I think it’s possible Meredith did send it.”

“Do you know why?”

She exhaled softly. “Leo’s father had a large metal strongbox in his house. He was a child of the Great Depression and he didn’t really trust banks. The family didn’t know for certain what was in it until he died. Meredith told me that Leo had suspected his father’s lawyer may have taken things out of the box before it was opened with Leo, Victor and the lawyer present. There was only one key and the lawyer had taken charge of it as the executor when Leo’s father died.”

Celia paused and cleared her throat. “I keep thinking what if it was Victor, not the lawyer? What if he somehow made a copy of that key? What if Meredith found it? What if she figured out what it was for? Maybe Victor found out and . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

I thanked her for calling and hung up. I remembered what Sandra had said about when Leo had received the letter with the key. One day before he was killed . Victor Janes was looking more and more guilty. I tried Marcus again, and again all I got was voice mail.

Abigail was ready to go. “I can wait for you,” she said.

I shook my head. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll let you out now. I have to go upstairs and corral the furball.”

I unlocked the door, watched Abigail walk to her car then relocked it again. Then I went upstairs to get Owen.

He trailed me as I shut off the remaining lights and double-checked windows. I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to what I was doing. I was putting together the case I was going to make to Marcus.

“Victor Janes doesn’t have cancer,” I said to Owen. “He’s not sick and if he was faking that, maybe he also faked his alibi somehow. I think when Leo got the key in the mail he recognized it and he figured out that Victor stole something—money, probably, and maybe a lot of it—from their father, and I think he guessed that Victor had something to do with Meredith’s death.” I remembered the book on theatrical makeup Leo had requested. “In fact,” I mused, “I think Leo was already getting suspicious that his brother’s illness was just another scam.”

I pulled out my phone again. I thought for a moment about trying Simon but he and Mia were still in Minneapolis. I put the phone back in my pocket and turned around.

Victor Janes was standing there.

chapter 17

“I’m sorry, Victor, the library is closed,” I said. I looked down for Owen but he had disappeared.

Literally.

“Yes, I know,” Victor said.

I wrapped my fingers around my keys and began to move toward the door, making a wide path around him. “It’s not a problem. I can let you out.”