Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

“I am,” I said. “Thanks again for supper.”

He let out a breath. “Kathleen, I’m not going to dance all around the farm. You know Mike and I go way back.”

I nodded.

“I haven’t known you nearly as long, but I consider you a friend as well. And without you, well, who knows if we would ever have found Elizabeth.”

“I feel the same way about you, about all of you,” I said.

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry to presume on that friendship, but I need you to look into what happened to Mike. I’m not trying to say that Marcus isn’t good at his job, but people talk to you because you’re not the police. You can find out things Marcus can’t.”

I wanted to remind him of all the reasons it wasn’t a good idea. Instead all I said was “No promises.”

He nodded. “That’s more than enough.”

We said good night and I got in the truck. I hadn’t made any promises or actually agreed to anything. Harry might have said that was more than enough, but I wasn’t so sure it was.

chapter 6

I had a restless night. I woke up before my alarm went off, even before Owen had the chance to poke me with a paw. I got to the library early and spent a couple of minutes walking around outside, checking the gazebo at the back—no hay bales or swimming pools—and the vegetables and flowers that the summer camp kids were growing in Harry’s raised beds. Harry had already begun clearing a space next to the far end of the building for the cold frames. It was just another example of how kind and conscientious he was. I’d meant every word I’d said to him: I did think of him as a friend. Even though I wasn’t sure what I could uncover about Mike’s death, I knew I had to try.

I spent some time on my laptop at lunchtime but I didn’t learn much more about Mike. He had been the top-rated endodontist in the state on Rate My Dentist. I didn’t see how his killer could have been a disgruntled patient.

It was a quiet day, maybe because it wasn’t raining, and I got the chance to work on my presentation for the library board about the new library computers. They had approved the idea in theory. Now that we had started fund-raising it was time for more details.

As I drove up the hill at the end of the day, I decided I would go talk to Rebecca to see what she could tell me about Mike Bishop and his family. She had grown up in Mayville Heights and she often knew where the bodies were buried, so to speak.

Before I had supper, I pulled some radishes from my little backyard garden and gathered a few more sungold tomatoes to take over to Rebecca after I’d eaten. Hercules sat at one corner of the raised bed watching me—and keeping his feet dry—while Owen walked around the edge, lifting one paw a couple of times as if telling me which tomatoes to pick. I wasn’t really sure what I was hoping to learn from Rebecca. Mike’s life seemed like an open book. Most of us had at least one person in our lives who wasn’t really a fan, but no one had a bad word to say about Mike. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to have any skeletons in his closet, but if they were there, Rebecca would probably know about them.

“I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to figure this out,” I said to the boys as I chopped three of the tomatoes for my own supper. “Harry said people tell me things, things that they don’t tell Marcus, but I’m not sure it matters this time.”

“Mrr,” Hercules said.

I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing, disagreeing or wondering when we were going to eat.

Marcus had said very little about the investigation but I didn’t think he had any suspects at this point. “What if Mike was just the victim of a random crime? What if someone broke in intending to steal whatever they could find and things just went wrong?”

Hercules seemed to consider the idea for a moment.

“Harrison and Harry think I can do something, but maybe I can’t. I know that most victims of violent crime know their attacker, but sometimes things are just random.”

I was talking out loud mainly just to work things out for myself. I didn’t expect either cat to offer any theories on Mike Bishop’s death, so I wasn’t surprised to look over my shoulder and see that Owen didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. He was peering under the refrigerator at something.

“What are you doing?” I said.

One ear twitched but that was the only indication I got that he was listening. He swiped one paw under the fridge and sent a small refrigerator magnet skittering across the floor to stop by my feet. I bent down to pick it up.

It was one that Maggie had given to me. I hadn’t been able to find it for a while and I had suspected it might have ended up in the stash of things Owen kept hidden—more or less—in the basement. Owen loved Maggie and had swiped her scarf and one of her mittens among other things in the past.

The magnet was a photo of Einstein with the quote: “God does not play dice with the universe.” In other words there is a pattern to things, a plan. Owen cocked his head to one side and looked at me with an almost smug look on his furry face.

“ ‘Not only does God play dice but he sometimes confuses us by throwing them where they cannot be seen,’ ” I said. “Stephen Hawking.”

I raised one eyebrow at Owen in my best Mr. Spock–from– Star Trek fashion and returned his smug expression. Then two things occurred to me. One, I was being smug over besting a cat. And two, both Einstein and Hawking were talking about quantum mechanics, not murder.

After supper I walked across the backyard to Rebecca’s. I found her cutting lettuce from her own small garden with a tiny pair of kitchen shears. She smiled when she caught sight of me. “Kathleen, your timing is perfect,” she said. “The lettuce is taking over. Please tell me you’ll take some.”

“I’ll definitely take some. Mine hasn’t grown nearly as well as yours.” I held up the brown paper bag I was carrying. “I brought tomatoes and radishes.”

“Splendid,” Rebecca said. “Everett will eat tomatoes at every meal and I have very few radishes. I think the racoons are having them for a midnight snack.”

I watched as she finished filling her colander with lettuce. Then she gestured at the gazebo. “Do you have time to sit in the shade for a bit?” she asked.

“I do,” I said.

Rebecca put the lettuce on the small table in the middle of the space and we each took a chair. She folded her hands in her lap. She was tiny with bright blue eyes and silver-gray hair cropped into a short cut that showed off her cheekbones and long neck.

“Where would you like me to start?” she asked. “You are looking for information about Michael’s family, aren’t you?”

There was no point in pretending I didn’t understand what she was referring to. “How did you know?” I asked.

“You and Harrison are very close. I knew he’d ask you to see what you could find out about Michael’s death.” She frowned. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not.”

“So tell me, what would you like to know?”

“The thing is, I’m not really sure,” I said. “Did Mike have any enemies? Was there anyone who would have had any reason to want him dead?”

“Your Marcus asked me the same questions,” Rebecca said, “and the answers are no and no. Michael was a good man. He was generous with his time, with his skills and with his money.”

“Some of that was Finnamore family money?”

Rebecca nodded. “The Finnamore family started Black Dog Boots more than a hundred years ago and they also made money in the timber industry. And before you think either of those businesses could be the cause of Michael’s death, you should know that the Finnamores only own a tiny share of either business now. Michael’s mother, Elizabeth Finnamore Bishop, inherited her father’s share of both companies and, as an only child, all of his money. There’s also a separate trust that provides for Finnamore descendants—it pays for college. Elizabeth started a charitable foundation with the money she inherited. It supports several educational organizations—education was one of Elizabeth’s favorite causes—as well as a number of school food programs all over the state. I know that Michael continued his mother’s work and expanded the school food project. He also started a project to provide basic dental care to children who wouldn’t otherwise get it. I don’t think anyone is going to commit murder over feeding hungry children or fixing their teeth.”