Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

Neither did I.

She nudged her glasses up her nose. “I’m guessing all of that will go to Lachlan now.”

“Not Eloise or Jonas?” I asked.

“Eloise lives in California. I don’t see how she could run the foundation from out there.”

“And Jonas isn’t a biological Finnamore.”

“Yes.” She picked a dried rose petal off the front of her shirt. “Jonas is probably the trustee for now, but the Finnamore money always stays in the family.” She made a face when she said the word “family.” “The older generation—Leitha’s generation—cared way too much about the bloodline as far as I’m concerned.”

“What about Mike?” I asked. “He was digging into the family tree. Do you think he cared about the bloodline?”

“Goodness no!” Rebecca said, gesturing with one hand. “I once heard him tell Leitha it was all a bunch of foolishness. He said the sainted Finnamores weren’t any better than anyone else.”

“What about Jonas?” I asked. “Do you think his not being a Finnamore matters to him?”

“I’m not sure. I think in some ways he might be relieved not to be. He inherited some land from his father and some investments from Mary-Margaret and he’s done well for himself. He’s smart and hardworking. Leitha used that family money like a whip to get people to do what she wanted them to. She couldn’t do that with Jonas and he was always pretty good at keeping Lachlan out of that.” She smiled. “I can see both of their mothers’ influence in Michael and in Jonas.”

“You knew both women.” I pulled one foot up underneath me.

“I knew Mary-Margaret better,” Rebecca said. “I used to cut her hair and she adored both of her boys, Jonas and Colin, Lachlan’s father. When Jonas had mumps as a teenager and ran a very high fever, Mary-Margaret wouldn’t leave his side at the hospital and Elizabeth had a doctor removed from treating the boy when the doctor tried to send Mary-Margaret home because Jonas wasn’t her ‘real’ son.”

“I think I would have liked both of them.”

Rebecca smiled again. “You would have. Mary-Margaret was the quieter of the two. Michael is . . . was very much like his mother.”

I tried to picture the rough family tree Mike had sketched out as he found new family members. I wasn’t sure if any of his family history had anything to do with his murder but it was a place to start, something to at least eliminate. “So Leitha was Elizabeth and Mary-Margaret’s aunt,” I said.

Rebecca nodded. “That’s right. Leitha and John were brother and sister.” She tapped one finger on the table as though she was plotting out the family connections. “Leitha had one child, Eloise. Her brother, John, had two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary-Margaret, which made Leitha great-aunt to Michael—and Jonas as far as I’m concerned. Did you meet Eloise when she was here for her mother’s service?”

“I did,” I said. “She came into the library to see all the work that had been done.”

“She was estranged from her mother, you know.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know that, but I’m not really surprised. Leitha had a strong personality.” And equally strong opinions I’d learned the first time we’d met. She told me with no beating around the bush that she believed the money spent on renovating the library had been nothing more than “foolish sentimentality.” She thought the building should have been torn down and replaced with a new, modern structure.

The Mayville Heights Free Public Library was a Carnegie library and much of the town’s history was tied up with it. Not to mention it was an excellent example of the architecture of its time. All of which I had nicely explained to Leitha. None of which had changed her mind.

“The woman had some very old-fashioned ideas,” Rebecca said, pursing her lips with disapproval. “Eloise has two daughters. They’re both adopted.”

“You think that estrangement had something to do with them not being biological Finnamores?”

Rebecca sighed. “I hope not, but knowing Leitha, it wasn’t impossible. She was missing out on so much not being in those girls’ lives. Look how blessed I am by having Ami.”

Ami was Everett’s granddaughter. Rebecca had been part of her life since she was a little girl. Even when Everett and Rebecca weren’t part of each other’s lives, she and Ami had stayed close.

“There’s no blood tie between us, but I couldn’t love Ami any more if there was. What binds people is love, not strands of DNA.” She reached out one hand and gently waved a butterfly away from the lettuce. “You know, some people think the Finnamores are cursed.”

I shifted in my chair. The foot I’d been sitting on was going to sleep. “Do you?”

Rebecca shook her head. “No. I don’t believe in silly things like that. The rain falls equally on sinner and saint and there were both in that family, just like in any other family, no matter what Leitha would have liked the rest of us to believe.”

“Do you know how the family came to start Black Dog Boots?” I asked. I had found very little about the history of the company when I’d been prowling around on their website at lunchtime.

“Leitha’s grandfather started Black Dog. He started out as a lumberjack, but he saved every penny and eventually had his own crew of men. Black Dog began because he couldn’t find durable work boots. Except for a minor share, the business was sold years ago, so if you’re thinking Michael was killed by a disgruntled employee”—she held up both hands—“I think you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“Do you think there could be any connection between Mike’s death and the band?” I felt like I was just pulling random ideas out of the air now.

“I don’t see how,” Rebecca said. “Everyone was thrilled that they had gotten together again. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see them do more shows together. No one thought that was a bad idea, but Harry or Johnny could tell you more about that.”

I couldn’t think of anything else to ask her, especially since I had already taken more of her time than I’d intended. We talked about our respective vegetable patches for a moment and then I thanked Rebecca for the lettuce and the information and headed home.

Owen had moved from walking around the vegetable bed to sitting on the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs. I joined him. He sniffed the lettuce out of curiosity but made a face. Salad didn’t interest him, other than the croutons if there were any, although he had been known to lick the ranch dressing off a bit of cucumber that accidentally landed on the floor.

The cat glanced over toward Rebecca’s yard and then gave me a curious look.

“Nothing useful,” I said, assuming he wanted to know what I’d learned from Rebecca when maybe he was just wondering if she had any yellow catnip chickens. “I did learn that Mike’s great-grandfather was a lumberjack but I don’t see how that’s going to help me.”

Marcus came around the side of the house then. He was carrying one of Burtis’s potato baskets.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi, yourself,” he said. He held up the basket. “New potatoes for you from Burtis via Brady.”

I smiled. Burtis grew some of the best potatoes I’d ever eaten. “Please thank both of them and thank you for bringing them over.”

“You’re very welcome,” Marcus said. He leaned down to kiss me, set the basket on the grass and lowered himself into the other chair.

Owen jumped down from his perch on the arm of my chair and walked over to peer at the potatoes. Before I could stop him, he jumped into the basket.

“Get out of there,” I said.

He looked at me, not even blinking.