Sofie Kelly - Copycat Killing - A Magical Cats Mystery

I couldn’t see how Ruby figuring out where she may have seen Jaeger Merrill before was going to turn out to be important, especially now that he was dead.

“I need to put these in Maggie’s studio,” I said, picking up the brown paper and bubble wrap again.

Ruby had been staring off into space, but she looked at me when I spoke. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “There’s something I need to check out on the computer, anyway.” She indicated her own open studio door. “Tell Maggie I’m here if she needs anything.”

“I will,” I said.

Mags had put the two boxes on her big worktable in the center of the room. She was just taking the last figure from a carved, wooden chess set out of the smaller of the two cartons.

I set the paper and bubble wrap on the end of the table.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll just go get the other couple of boxes.”

While Maggie went downstairs I put some water in her kettle and plugged it in. I waffled for a moment between the box of peppermint tea bags and the canister of dark chocolate cocoa mix. The chocolate won.

“Are you making tea?” Maggie asked when she came back in with the last three cartons.

“I was going to make hot chocolate,” I said. “But I can make tea if that’s what you’d like.”

She set the boxes on the table and rolled her head slowly from one side to the other. “No. I want chocolate,” she said. “Lots and lots of chocolate.” She stopped in mid-neck roll. “Look in there, on the bottom at the back.” She pointed to the old pie safe where she kept the mugs and the tea and the electric kettle. “I think I have some marshmallows.”

The marshmallows were in a little snap-top plastic container. I could smell vanilla when I popped the lid. “Hey, did you buy these at the market?” I asked.

She had one arm behind her head, stretching, pulling down gently with her other hand. Maggie was very flexible. “Dina made them,” she said.

“Dina?” I said. The water was boiling. I filled both cups. “The Jam Lady?”

“Uh huh.”

I’d been a little homesick and a lot heartsick when I’d arrived in Mayville Heights just over a year ago. I’d eaten a lot of toast smothered in The Jam Lady’s strawberry rhubarb preserves in those first few lonely weeks. And a fair number of brownies too. If it weren’t for all the walking I’d have ended up looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy. And I probably wouldn’t have Hercules and Owen either.

Maggie emptied the boxes and when the water boiled I made the hot chocolate and added marshmallows to both cups. I gave one to Maggie. She took a long sip and then smiled at me over the mug. “Ummm, that’s good. Thank you.”

I took a drink from my own cup. The mix of dark chocolate and vanilla tasted as good as it smelled.

Maggie pulled her hand over her hair again. “I can’t believe Jaeger’s dead,” she said, her expression troubled.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” she said, but there was something in her voice that told me she wasn’t completely convinced. I looked at her, without saying anything else, until she lifted her head and met my gaze.

“What?”

“Jaeger’s not dead because he wanted to bring in a corporate sponsor for the co-op and you didn’t. It’s not your fault he was in the basement. It’s not your fault the stairs were wet.”

“I know. I do. I just keep thinking if we hadn’t had the meeting today maybe he wouldn’t have gone back down to the basement.”

“Then you would have had it another day. And Jaeger could still have been down in the basement this morning. Or this afternoon, or next Tuesday.”

I leaned against the worktable to take the weight off my ankle “It was an accident, Mags. An awful, stupid accident.”

“Why are you always so sensible and logical?” she said, the beginnings of a smile pulling at her mouth.

I took another drink of my hot chocolate. “Probably because my mom and dad are masters of drama.” I set the cup down. “Right before I came here my father broke his ankle. Can you guess what he was doing?”

“Probably not taking out the garbage.”

I shook my head. “Uh uh. He was doing the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. My father. On the fire escape. In January.” I sighed. “No wonder I’m sensible. It was the only form of teenage rebellion left.”

Maggie laughed. She’d never met my family in person, but she’d heard a lot of my stories about them.

“Seriously Mags, I know you feel bad. But it’s been raining for a week. You’re tired. You’re wet and if you’re like me, there are probably some funky mold spores growing in your boots.” I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, wincing when I inadvertently touched the edge of my scraped forehead again.

“I’m sorry about Jaeger,” I said. “I really am. But it’s not your fault.” I hugged her and I could feel some of the tension seep out of her body.

“I should get these parcels packed,” Maggie said, breaking out of the hug.

“And I need to check on things at the library.” I grabbed my cup and drained the last of the cocoa. “You’re still coming for supper?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Owen.”

“You’ll be the highlight of his little kitty day,” I said. “Call me if anything changes.”

Maggie was already unrolling the bubble wrap. She waved over her shoulder in my direction.

I stopped in the hall to pull out my keys and glanced through the open door to Ruby’s studio. She was on the floor, underneath one of the tall windows, her back to the door, chin propped on one hand, surrounded by books, engrossed in whatever she was reading.

It had seemed pretty obvious when Ruby told me she had something to check on her computer that what she was planning to do was stick Jaeger Merrill’s name in a search engine. I was happy to see that she’d given up on trying to figure out where she’d first seen him. It didn’t matter now, anyway.

Of course I was wrong.

On both counts.

7

I ended up having to park the truck on a side street near the library. Even though that whole block of Old Main Street was on higher ground than where the artists’ co-op was located, because of the slope of the land and drainage problems, the section of street in front of the library was still covered with water, blocked off by three town sawhorses and a large yellow caution sign, but at least the level had dropped a couple more inches.

Inside the library, the pump Oren Kenyon had installed the previous fall seemed to be easily handling what little water had seeped into the basement. I went down the steps only as far as I needed to see that the cellar was staying dry. And I held on to the railing with both hands.

The main floor of the building was eerily quiet without Abigail leading story time and Susan shelving books, her dark hair up on her head with a couple of pencils or a crochet hook stuck in the topknot, steering readers to the latest science fiction as well as her favorite classics from Ray Bradbury and John Wyndham.

I emptied the book drop, checked in the returned books and reshelved everything. Then I called Lita, Everett Henderson’s assistant.

Everett had funded the library renovations—his gift to Mayville Heights—and he was president of the library board. I knew Lita would be able to find out when the building could reopen a lot faster than I would. It seemed as though she knew every single person in Mayville Heights, plus she was related in one way or another to most of the town as well.

“It’s going to be another day at least, Kathleen,” Lita said. “Probably two. Right now it all depends on how much rain we get. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”