Софи Келли - Paws Аnd Effect

Rebecca paused with her cup in midair. “Wait a minute, wasn’t the long-eared bat on one of those lists John had?”

Maggie nodded.

“So it’s endangered?” I said.

“Threatened,” Maggie said.

“White-nose syndrome,” Rebecca interjected. “It’s killing bat populations all over North America.” She glanced at me. “That’s from PBS, not the library.”

“So if Brady is right about the type of bat and if they’re living in that cave—” I began.

“It might be enough to at least slow the proposal down for a while,” Maggie finished. “Brady said there is some precedent for protecting the bat’s habitat.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Rebecca smiled. “Have you told John yet?”

“He was in Red Wing all day, but I know he’s planning on being at the library in the morning,” I said. “There are a couple of things he wants to check in the herbarium again.”

“I could text him,” Maggie said, setting her cup down on the table. “But I really wanted to talk to him face-to-face.”

“Come over about ten,” I said. “I’ll be there. I changed shifts with Abigail.”

Rebecca touched my arm. “How’s Marcus?” she asked.

“He’s all right,” I said. “Thank you for asking. Dani’s family is waiting to have a funeral service until the investigation is wrapped up so Marcus—and John and Travis—are still hanging.”

“They need to say a proper good-bye,” Rebecca said. “That’s understandable. I’m sure Detective Lind will have things wrapped up very soon.” She glanced down at her watch. “Oh, I better get going,” she said. “I have a date with my husband and some Tubby’s frozen yogurt.”

“Have fun,” I said, leaning in to give her a hug. She reached for Maggie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Will you call me, dear, after you speak to John?”

“I will,” Maggie promised.

I stretched both arms up over my head. “I have to go, too,” I said. “Owen chewed the head off another chicken and I don’t think I got all the bits of catnip off the kitchen floor.”

“Does that mean he’s out of chickens?” Maggie asked.

“No,” I said firmly, narrowing my eyes at her. “Owen does not need any more chickens. He has enough assorted parts to put about half a dozen of them together. He’s the Dr. Frankenstein of funky chickens.” I glared at her. “No new chickens.”

“I heard you,” she said. She leaned over to give me a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I headed for the coat hooks, knowing there was at least one new Fred the Funky Chicken in Owen’s immediate future.

* * *

It was dark when I got home. I was unlocking the back door when something furry wound around my leg. I jumped, almost falling off the step. It was Hercules.

“You scared me,” I said, reaching down to pick him up. “What are you doing out here?”

He gave a non-committal murp but his green eyes darted to the big maple tree in the backyard. “Were you stalking that bird again?” I asked.

Hercules suddenly got very interested in the bag with my tai chi clothes hanging from my shoulder. “That grackle is tucked in his little bird nest right now. You can terrorize each other tomorrow,” I said. I gave the top of his head a scratch and started again to unlock the door.

“Kathleen,” a voice said behind me.

I jumped and swung around. Hope Lind was standing there. “I’m sorry,” she said, holding up one hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you have a few minutes?”

Hope was wearing her dark hair a little longer and the curls looked a little windblown, like she hadn’t had time to look in a mirror for a while. She was dressed in black trousers and heels that brought her to my height instead of the couple of inches shorter she was in flats.

“Of course,” I said. “C’mon in.”

Hope followed me inside. I set Hercules on the kitchen floor and he cocked his head to one side and eyed her.

I indicated the table. “Have a seat. I’m going to have a cup of hot chocolate. Would you like one? I have tea as well.”

She seemed distracted. “No,” she said, “hot chocolate is fine.” She glanced down at the cat. “Hello, Hercules.”

“Mrr,” he answered.

Hope looked around the kitchen. “This is a nice little house.”

“It actually belongs to Everett Henderson.” I put two mugs of milk in the microwave. “It was one of the perks he used to woo me to Mayville Heights.”

“I’m glad it worked,” she said, propping her elbows on the table.

We were both stalling, her in saying whatever it was she’d come to talk to me about and me in hearing her out. I could feel my pulse thumping in the hollow below my throat. This had to be about Dani’s death.

When the hot chocolate was made I set a cup in front of Hope and joined her at the table.

She cleared her throat. “Kathleen, I need to keep this conversation just between us.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t like keeping secrets from Marcus, Hope,” I said, wiping a hand over the back of my neck. “It’s gotten us into trouble in the past.”

“This has to do with Marcus. And I wouldn’t be here if there was anyone else I could talk to.”

I couldn’t miss the intensity in her voice. It matched the look in her eyes. I felt my chest tighten. I sighed. “All right.”

“Danielle McAllister’s death wasn’t an accident,” she said. “There’s evidence that she didn’t fall over that embankment.”

That was why the investigation had been taking so long. That was why Hope had been avoiding Marcus. “Did someone push her?” I asked. Had someone killed Dani because of the development? Would someone go that far?

Hope played with her cup, turning it in slow circles on the table. “The medical examiner thinks she was hit by a car, then the body was moved and she was . . . dropped over.”

An image of Dani, sitting at the table at Eric’s, laughing as she told the story of their first meeting in the biology lab flashed into my mind. I felt the sour taste of bile at the back of my throat. “That’s horrible,” I whispered.

“It gets worse,” Hope said. “We found her phone. It was a little way away from her body. It had probably fallen out of her pocket when . . . when she went over. At first, I wasn’t sure what we were going to be able to get from it.” She looked down at the table and then met my eyes again. “The last text Dani sent was to Marcus. She wanted to talk to him. He texted back a yes.”

“They did meet,” I said. “Over at the hotel.”

“I know,” Hope said. “This was after that.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “He texted back a yes?”

She nodded silently.

“That . . . that doesn’t make sense.” Because of his dyslexia Marcus rarely sent texts. He called people. Everyone who knew him knew that. “Why didn’t he call Dani back?”

Hope sighed softly. “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t asked him. I haven’t told him about any of this. I haven’t told anyone, except now, you.”

“Maybe someone else sent that text,” I said.

“C’mon, Kathleen, you know Marcus. He doesn’t leave his phone lying around. And even if he did, you think what? That someone else at the station answered that text and now doesn’t want to admit it? Seriously?”

Okay, so it didn’t really make sense that someone else had answered Dani’s text, but it didn’t make sense to me that Marcus had, either.

Hope raked a hand back through her hair. “Look, I know he doesn’t text very often but he does sometimes. He sent me one this afternoon. Two words: Anything new? He wants to know what’s going on with the case. I’m guessing he didn’t call because he didn’t know where I’d be and he didn’t want anyone to know he’s asking.”