Софи Келли - Paws Аnd Effect

I finished my lunch and went back inside. “I just have to make a call and then I’ll be down to take over,” I said to Susan, who was at the desk sorting books.

“Take your time,” she said. It looked like she’d secured her updo today with a couple of demitasse spoons. I’d learned a long time ago that there was always going to be a sense of whimsy to Susan’s fashion choices.

Upstairs in my office I looked up the number I wanted and after a moment of hesitation punched it into the phone. The phone at the other end rang twice before it was answered. “Good afternoon, Simon Janes’s office,” a polished, professional voice with just a hint of huskiness said.

“Hello,” I said. “It’s Kathleen Paulson from the library calling.”

The professional voice got a little warmer. “Hello, Ms. Paulson. Mia works for you. She’s told me how good you’ve been to her. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” I said. “Mia has been a wonderful asset to the library. She’s a hard worker and everyone from the preschoolers at story time to the seniors book club adores her.”

“I’m not at all surprised,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “So how may I help you?”

“I was hoping to get about ten minutes of Mr. Janes’s time,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Mia.”

I’d met Simon Janes the previous winter at a fundraiser for the library’s Reading Buddies program. He was outspoken to the point of being rude, in my opinion—very different from his quiet, soft-spoken daughter. However, Mia had clearly inherited some of her father’s confidence. When the expansion of the Reading Buddies program had been put at risk because we hadn’t raised enough money, Mia—according to her father—had called him on his brash behavior and pointed out that he could easily afford to fund the program, which he did, with a check from his personal account.

I’d seen Janes several times since then when he came into the library to pick up his daughter. And more than once I’d caught him watching me, a bemused look on his face. He didn’t look away and he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught.

“Would eight o’clock tomorrow morning work for you?” the woman with the lovely voice asked.

“Yes, it would. Thank you,” I said, relieved that she hadn’t asked me why I wanted the meeting. I got directions to Janes’s office, thanked her again and hung up.

Abigail and I were in the workroom, late that afternoon, opening the boxes of readers when Susan poked her head around the doorway. “Call for you, Kathleen,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing bits of paper and packing materials off my hands. I went into my office to answer the phone.

“Hello, Kathleen, it’s Simon Janes,” the voice on the other end said.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Janes,” I said, wondering why he’d called. Was he going to cancel our appointment or did he just want to know why I wanted to see him?”

Luckily, he got right to the point. “We have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow morning and I have to make an unplanned trip to Minneapolis.”

My heart sank.

“But if you’d like to join me for an early supper at the St. James Hotel we could talk then.”

I didn’t want to lose the chance to pick the man’s brain. “Yes, thank you. I would,” I said.

We agreed to meet at the hotel bar at five thirty. I didn’t doubt that Simon Janes had a meeting in Minneapolis, but I also suspected that changing the time and place of our meeting was a way for him to control it. That was fine with me. As Harrison Taylor would say, I’d been around the block a time or two and recognized the scenery.

I left the library at the same time I would have left if I’d been going home to have supper and change for tai chi class. I’d already sent Maggie a text letting her know I might miss class. I parked the truck on a side street near the hotel. I was early but as I walked into the hotel bar I discovered I wasn’t as early as Janes. He was leaning back in his seat at a small table in the center of the room, legs crossed. As I approached he got to his feet and pulled out the other chair for me.

“Hello, Kathleen,” he said. He was tall with a firm handshake and direct gaze, and once again I thought he didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be the parent of a seventeen-year-old.

Since he’d referred to me by my first name I did the same. “Hello, Simon,” I said as I sat down. “Thanks for fitting me into your schedule.”

He took the chair opposite me again. “When Mia’s working at the library I generally eat alone.” He shrugged. “I like my own company but sometimes it’s good to have someone else’s. I’ve heard all my stories.” He gave a practiced, self-deprecating smile.

“Well, I promise to listen attentively and nod and smile in the appropriate places.”

He laughed. “Then it should be a good meal.”

He turned his head and a waiter materialized beside us. He handed each of us a menu.

“Are you driving, Kathleen?” Simon asked.

I nodded.

“Sparkling water, then?”

“Please,” I said.

“Two please, Michael,” he said to the waiter.

The young man nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, the menu untouched on the table in front of him. “How do you feel about pizza?” he asked.

“I like pizza,” I said.

I noticed he had a crescent-shaped scar that ran from the end of his right eyebrow to just below the eye. “Mia says that my habit of suggesting what to order when I’m with a woman is condescending and patriarchal. So I’m just going to say that they have great pizza here and would you like to share one? Of course you don’t have to say yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I think that covers all the disclaimers.”

I couldn’t help smiling back at him. I’d seen his arrogance and I had no doubt that he could be condescending and patriarchal, but he could also be charming. “I’ve never had the pizza here,” I said, “but I’ve heard good things about it, so yes, let’s split one.”

Michael, the waiter, returned with our sparkling water. I squeezed a little lime into mine and took a drink while Simon relayed our order, taking the opportunity to study the man. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but his dark suit was expensive and expertly tailored. He was somewhere below six feet, rangy, with his hair buzzed close to his head. He certainly looked the part of the successful businessman but something about the way he carried himself made me think he’d started at the bottom. He reminded me of Burtis Chapman, I realized. I wouldn’t want either man for an enemy.

Once the waiter left Simon turned his attention to me. “So what do you want to ask me about first?” he said. “The Long Lake proposal or Ernie Kingsley?”

I think my mouth fell open in surprise. “How did you know?” I managed to get out.

“I knew this meeting had nothing to do with Mia,” he said. “I know she’s happy working for you and I’ve picked her up enough times to feel confident that you’re all happy with her.”

I nodded. “We are.”

“From what Mia’s told me the reading program is going well and you don’t have any papers with you, so you didn’t want to meet with me to hit me up for money.”

He’d approached our meeting the same way I might have. “You’re right again,” I said.

One forearm rested on the edge of the table. The other was on his leg. He didn’t have any fidgety tics that I’d picked up so far. “You and Detective Gordon are a couple.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t say anything.

“He has a connection to the woman who was killed—the geologist with that environmental group.”