Софи Келли - Paws Аnd Effect

“Don’t worry about me, Kathleen,” she said.

But I was worried about her.

Hope jingled her car keys in her pocket. “So I’m guessing you didn’t find out what Marcus has been holding back, then?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t.”

“I can’t believe Foz did this,” she said. “You’re certain he said it was just questioning? He didn’t arrest Marcus?”

“I’m positive. And Marcus has a lawyer with him. Brady Chapman.”

“Brady?” she shot back. “Why not his own father?”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You knew Elliot Gordon was in town?”

She nodded. “I knew he was coming.”

I think my mouth fell open just a little in surprise. “Marcus didn’t know. How did you know?”

She looked at me like I was dense as a block of wood. “I called him.”

I bit the end of my tongue so I wouldn’t say anything that later I’d wish I had kept to myself.

“You disapprove,” Hope said.

Everything I knew about Elliot Gordon came from Marcus. He’d been a mostly absent father, building his career as a criminal defense attorney while Marcus and his sister, Hannah, were growing up, and when he was present, he’d set impossibly high standards for his only son. “I think getting in touch with his father was Marcus’s call,” I said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“He never would have done it, Kathleen. I had to. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

She didn’t see that she’d crossed a line. All of a sudden I wasn’t so sure this partnership was a good idea.

Hope must have had her phone on vibrate because she suddenly pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. “I have to go,” she said. “If anything else happens, call me.” She didn’t wait for my answer.

I turned around to find Owen standing in the doorway. “You heard,” I said. I wasn’t even going to pretend that I was thinking out loud. There was no one around.

Owen narrowed his golden eyes.

“She shouldn’t have called his father,” I said. Owen followed me back into the kitchen. When I sat down he jumped onto my lap. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have agreed to try to work with her. And I shouldn’t have been doing it behind Marcus’s back.”

Owen wrinkled his nose at me. “Just because he didn’t ask me directly what I was doing doesn’t mean it was okay.”

He seemed to think about what I’d just said as though it was a new concept to him. Or he was waiting for me to stop talking and make another piece of toast. I decided making the toast was a better use of time.

We’d finished eating and Owen was sitting at my feet, methodically washing his face, when there was another knock at the back door. “Mrrr,” he said without missing a pass with his paw.

“I heard,” I said. I headed out to the porch with a general feeling of trepidation. I didn’t want to deal with Hope again tonight. But it wasn’t Hope standing on the steps. It was Elliot Gordon.

“Hello, Ms. Paulson,” he said. He was as tall as his son with the same broad shoulders. He had the same wavy hair as Marcus, shorter and combed back from his face.

“Hello, Mr. Gordon,” I said, wondering why he was at my door. At my feet Owen leaned his head against my leg.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “May I come in?”

I hesitated; what little I knew about the man didn’t really make me inclined to like him. On the other hand, even Marcus said his dad was an excellent lawyer. I opened the door a little wider. “Come in, Mr. Gordon,” I said. I led the way into the kitchen.

Elliot Gordon looked around, making no attempt to hide his curiosity. “Everett Henderson used to own this house.”

“He still does.” I leaned against the counter and folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you here?” I asked. “I don’t think you came here to talk about real estate, but I could be wrong.”

“Merow,” Owen commented loudly to emphasize the point.

Hercules had come from wherever he’d been all this time. Flanked by him on one side and Owen on the other, I felt a little like Batgirl with Batman and Robin as my sidekicks—after all, Barbara Gordon had a degree in library science.

Marcus’s father laughed. “I like you,” he said. His hands were in the pockets of what looked to be a very expensive coat—gray wool and cashmere I was guessing. His feet were slightly apart and the look in his eyes—which were dark brown, not blue like Marcus’s—reminded me so much of Marcus it made my chest hurt. His expression grew serious. “My son is a suspect in a murder. I don’t intend to let him be arrested.”

“Neither do I,” I said.

“So you’re willing to help me.” He didn’t phrase the words in the form of a question.

I shook my head. “No, but I’m willing to let you help me.” I waited. I could hear my heart going thump, thump, thump in my ears.

“There isn’t any point in arguing with you, is there?” he said, and I saw a hint of a smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

“No,” I said. “But if you want to, I’ll listen.”

He laughed again. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll help you .”

I didn’t think for a moment that he intended to “help” me. I knew when I’d been played, but that was okay. If that’s what it took to get Marcus out of this mess it was more than okay.

I made coffee and we sat at the table. Elliot took off his coat. Underneath he was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a gray-and-blue-striped tie loose at the neck.

“How much did my son tell you about me?” he asked.

“I know you’re a lawyer. I know you wanted him to go to law school.” I also knew it was more than “wanting” Marcus to go to law school. Elliot had planned for the two of them to practice law together. He’d been furious when Marcus decided to become a police officer, calling it a waste of his son’s brain. He’d refused to attend his son’s college graduation.

Owen and Hercules had moved to sit on either side of my chair, still in sidekick mode. Hercules seemed to be following the conversation intently; Owen looked a bit bored. He’d yawned twice.

Elliot leaned down and held out his hand to the little tabby. I shook my head. “You can’t pet him,” I said. “He used to be feral. He doesn’t like to be touched by strangers.”

“He seems friendly,” Elliot said.

“He is friendly,” I said. “Just don’t touch him.”

I looked down at Owen, who seemed intrigued by the watch Elliot was wearing. “Owen,” I warned.

The cat looked up at me with his best innocent expression fixed on his face.

My cell phone buzzed then. It was Marcus. The knot that had been in my stomach since the restaurant loosened. “Excuse me,” I said to Elliot. I got up and walked into the living room.

“Hi,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Marcus said. “I’m sorry everything took so long.”

“So they didn’t . . . keep you?”

“No, they didn’t arrest me. I’m fine. I promise.”

I leaned against the door frame because my legs suddenly felt wobbly. “Is Brady with you?” I asked. I could hear what sounded like traffic in the background.

“Yeah,” Marcus said. “He’s coming out to the house. I need to fill him in on the background to all of this, but I can stop in if you want me to.”

I did want him to, but I didn’t think it was a good time for a confrontation with his father. From the kitchen I heard Owen give a yowl of aggravation. “Talk to Brady,” I said. “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right.” He hesitated. “I, uh, have to track my father down. I don’t think there’s actually much chance he left.”