Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

I’d had no idea Johnny had so much animosity for Leitha. In a moment of anger, could he have done something stupid? I didn’t want to believe it.

“You know I was at the library for the presentation the day of Leitha’s accident,” Johnny said. “I guess I shouldn’t say ‘accident’ anymore.”

“I remember seeing you.” I wanted to ask him what he was getting at, but I’d learned that if I just let people talk, sometimes I found out more than if I asked a lot of questions. It took patience I didn’t always have.

“Mary wasn’t the only person who had words with Leitha.” He exhaled loudly. “I did as well. It was the same old conversation about not letting me buy that building. She took great pleasure in telling me that she had sold the property to another developer.”

“You must have been angry,” I said.

He shrugged. “Some days you eat the bear. Some days the bear eats you. And so far the building is still standing, so you never know what might happen.”

The intensity that had been in his voice earlier was gone and the lines in his face had smoothed out. Why was he so calm now about something that had left him so angry when Leitha was alive? Leitha meddling in her great-great-nephew’s life had gotten more of a reaction from Johnny than that deal that had fallen through.

Johnny suddenly smiled. “We got tattoos, you know,” he said, “about a week before Leitha died.”

“You and Mike?” I didn’t see Harry going to get a tattoo. On the other hand, I’d been learning that Harry had layers I didn’t know about.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nothing wild. Just the sign language symbol for rock and roll.” He touched his left hip. “I have no idea how but Leitha found out. You can imagine how she reacted. Mike didn’t give a sh— Mike didn’t care. She blamed me. Mike told her it was his idea. She wouldn’t hear it.”

“But it was your idea, wasn’t it?”

He grinned. “Oh yeah!”

We stopped by a bench at the spot where I’d first crossed the street to reach the Riverwalk trail. I gave Johnny the name of the reference librarian in Red Wing. “They have an excellent collection of old photographs. I think it’s the first place you should start to try to document the building’s history. I’ll call her on Monday and tell her to expect to hear from you.”

“Thanks, Kathleen,” Johnny said. “I appreciate this.”

“This is probably going to sound a little odd, but do you know what Mike was doing on Wednesday night for the last few months?” I asked.

“As far as I know, working late, having supper and this time of year watching the Twins play on TV.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“He’d been leaving the office on time on Wednesday and Thursday but he was only practicing on Thursday.”

He shrugged. “So? Maybe he was seeing someone or maybe he just wanted to watch the ball game with a beer.”

Something over my shoulder caught Johnny’s eye and his face darkened. “You can’t honestly think it had anything to do with Mike’s death. Mike wasn’t the kind of person to have secrets.” He raised his voice. “And if the police were working harder instead of manufacturing cases, maybe they’d have his killer by now.”

Marcus joined us, putting a hand on my back. “We are working hard on Mike’s case,” he said, his face devoid of emotion.

“Well, from my perspective, you seem to be spending all your efforts on Leitha Anderson’s death, which no one even knew was a crime. You’re wasting your time going down that road.”

“Leitha deserves justice just as much as Mike does,” Marcus said. “And I’m going to keep working so that they both get it.”

“Mike Bishop didn’t have an enemy in the world.” Johnny’s voice was getting angrier. “Mike made friends everywhere he went, unlike Leitha. He was ten times the person she was.” He stood with his feet apart, hands jammed in his pockets. “There were some break-ins and some vandalism to cars in the area of Mike’s house. Are you trying to find those people? Why aren’t you checking out people who got out of prison recently? Or known drug addicts?”

I lifted a hand to touch Johnny’s arm and then thought better of it. “Marcus knows how to do his job,” I said gently.

He didn’t look at me. “Then do it,” he said, his gaze locked on Marcus’s face.

“I am,” Marcus said. “I’m not going to insult you by telling you to trust me, but I am looking into all of those things. And more. I give you my word.”

Johnny couldn’t have known how serious a promise that was, but I did.

Johnny swiped a hand over his face. The anger seemed to drain out of him. “All I care about is bringing Mike’s killer to justice.”

Marcus nodded. “I get that. I want the same thing. But I have to put just as much effort in for everyone. Otherwise the whole system falls apart.”

They stared at each other for a long moment; then Johnny turned to me. “Thank you for the information,” he said. He turned and headed across the grass.

“ ‘Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both,’ ” I said in a quiet voice. I knew Marcus would agree with Eleanor Roosevelt’s words.

I watched Johnny cross the street and head into Eric’s. I turned back to Marcus. “Did it look as though Mike had walked in on a robbery, just between us?”

He shook his head. “It did look to me as though someone might have gone through his desk. Or maybe he was just someone who had a messy desk. What bothers me is, why was he killed? If Mike had walked in on someone, why not run? None of the break-ins and vandalism out there have been anything other than stupid kids showing off, not someone who would try to rob someone’s house and then kill the owner when he surprised them. And Mike was an average middle-aged person, not some big muscular guy or a martial arts expert. Killing him seems like an overreaction when it would have been so much easier to run.”

“Maybe the person couldn’t get away,” I said.

“If Mike had come in the front door to the house, the thief could have gone out through the kitchen or through the French doors to the deck. Someone who was looking for a few dollars or something to sell would have panicked and gotten the hell out. It doesn’t make sense.”

That was the problem. Everywhere I turned, nothing about this case made sense.

chapter 15

There’s something I need to tell you,” I said. “I’m not sure if it’s important or not.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Wednesday nights, Mike was making sure to leave work on time.”

“Because he was going out to Harry’s to practice.”

I shook my head. “No, he wasn’t. They practiced on Thursday. I checked with Harry.”

“So he was probably just going home.”

We headed for the street.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “He stopped at Eric’s for takeout on those Wednesday nights. I don’t think he was going home.”

Marcus frowned. “So you think he was doing what? Leading some kind of secret life?”

“No. Maybe.” It sounded silly when he said the words out loud.

“I don’t think so,” Marcus said. “I’m not saying your instincts aren’t good, but so far from what I’ve learned, Mike Bishop’s life was an open book.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

We walked over to the bookstore and got the book for Elliot and then headed to Marcus’s house. The plan was to do some yard work and figure out a permanent spot for the bench he’d bought.

I changed my clothes and started weeding the vegetable garden. Micah perched on one corner of the raised bed, watching me, while Marcus tried to decide on the best location for the bench.

“I thought you were going to paint it first,” I said.