Kelly, Sofie - Sleight of Paw

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“People can be shortsighted.” His voice was laced with anger. He took a deep breath. “Ruby thought maybe I would be eligible for a Franklin grant.”

“Maybe,” I said, glancing at the pamphlet he’d just given me. “With a Franklin grant you have to document the need when you apply. They like numbers. They like statistics.”

He rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it kind of obvious that there are kids living on the street? Kids that need a chance?” He snapped the two elastics around his wrist.

“It’s easier for some people to connect with the problem—whether it’s kids who can’t read or kids who are homeless—if they have specifics.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been working on this project for over a year. So many pieces of paper, so many trees used, and nothing happens.”

His dark hair was slicked back with gel. He smoothed a hand over the top of it, then let out a breath and smiled at me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I get a little crazy about this.”

He looked over at Maggie and Ruby. “I’m worried about her,” he said quietly.

“She was close to Agatha,” I said. “It’s understandable that she’s upset.”

“She’s not getting any sleep. She has nightmares,” he said shifting restlessly from one foot to the other.

“She found Agatha’s body. That would give anyone nightmares.”

At that point Ruby caught sight of Justin. She waved to him, said something to Maggie, who was on her way down the ladder, and walked over to us.

“Hi,” she said. “Did Kathleen answer all your questions?”

He nodded, reaching to brush something from her cheek. His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment. “Yeah, she did.”

I did? I didn’t think he’d actually asked any. I touched Ruby’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” She smiled and nodded, but her attention had already been pulled back to Justin.

I walked over to Maggie, tucking Justin’s brochure in my pocket. “Am I just a bitter, cynical person? Because he gets on my nerves,” she said.

I held up my thumb and middle finger about an inch apart. “Maybe just a bit,” I said. “I thought you liked Justin.”

“I don’t dislike him.” She leaned in close to me. “He’s just so intense,” she said, stressing the words the way Justin did when he spoke.

I couldn’t help laughing.

Maggie grinned and then her attention went back to Eddie.

“He looks good, Mags,” I said.

“Are you saying that because it’s really what you think or because you’ve decided I’ve crossed the line into Wack-a-doodle Land?”

I waggled one hand at her. “About sixty-forty.”

“I can live with that.”

She turned her attention to the photo collages. The new lights were clear and natural, a lot more like outdoor sunlight than anything else. Maggie looked up at the ceiling.

“Would it help if I went up the ladder and you nitpicked over how the lights are positioned?”

“Yes.” She smiled at me. Sometimes Maggie was like Owen and Hercules; sarcasm was totally wasted on her.

I moved the ladder about a foot to the left, checked to make sure it was steady and climbed up. For the next ten minutes or so I made miniscule adjustments to the lights until Maggie was satisfied.

“That’s it,” she said, holding out both hands. “I’m not touching anything else. I swear.”

Rebecca came across the tile floor, beaming. “Maggie, this is fantastic,” she said.

Maggie’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”

“And I love Roma’s young man.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie said.

Rebecca pointed at the dummy. “That’s Eddie Sweeney, right? The hockey player Roma’s seeing?”

“Roma’s not dating Eddie Sweeney,” Maggie said, looking at Rebecca like she had a second head.

“She’s been driving around with him all over town.”

Maggie looked at me. I looked at her. We both burst out laughing at the same time.

Rebecca looked at us like we were crazy.

“Yes, Roma was driving around town with Eddie,” Maggie said, giggling. “But it was this Eddie.” She pointed at the mannequin.

Rebecca looked at me. I nodded. “That’s how we got him down here,” Maggie explained, gesturing with both hands. “He wouldn’t fit in my car, so we belted him into the front seat of Roma’s SUV.”

“And people thought it was the real Eddie,” Rebecca said with a laugh.

“I guess we were invisible in the backseat,” Maggie said softly to me.

I looked at my watch. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“No,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “Go back to the library. I’m headed back to the studio. I’ll meet you here about six o’clock.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Don’t eat for the rest of the afternoon,” Rebecca said. “They’ll be lots and lots of food.”

I got my coat and pulled on my hat. Then I headed down the stairs, cut across the lot and made my way to the corner. Waiting for a car to turn so I could cross the street, I noticed Marcus come out of Eric’s. He paused on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, then made his way down two buildings and disappeared into the mouth of the alley.

I waited on the curb for a moment, but he didn’t come back out.

This wasn’t good. I just knew it wasn’t good.

10

We closed the library at five. Susan quickly bundled herself into her coat and boots and left. I pulled up my hood against the slight wind and started down the street toward the Stratton Theater.

It was a beautifully restored building—older than the library. Unfortunately, the first time I’d been inside I’d found a dead body. I’d been back to the theater for the summer music festival, for a couple of plays, a concert and a wonderful production of A Christmas Carol. My feelings about the old building were a lot happier now.

Agatha’s little house was up a tiny side street just past the Stratton. Ruby was waiting at the end of the driveway, a shopping bag tucked under her arm. She smiled as I walked up to her. “Thanks for doing this.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile in return.

Someone had plowed the driveway to the tiny brick house and cleared the path and steps. I trailed behind Ruby. Squinting at the door, she felt for the keyhole. I took a step back to get out of the light.

The key turned in the lock. Ruby leaned her weight against the old wooden door. It stuck for a second, then groaned open. I slid my hand around the left side of the frame, feeling for a light switch.

A light came on and I could see into what looked to be the kitchen, up a few steps to the left. I followed Ruby up the stairs, leaving my snowy boots at the bottom.

The kitchen floor was green-and-blue speckled linoleum, very old and faded but spotless. The walls were pale green; the cupboards painted white. The table was a vintage chrome set, blue flowers on a white background circa the 1960s, I guessed.

Other than that there was nothing in the room.

Nothing. No cookie jar on the counter. No calendar on the wall or funny pictures stuck to the refrigerator. Maybe her son had cleared a lot of things out when Agatha went to the rehabilitation center after her stroke.

Ruby looked around the room, lips pressed together.

I touched her arm. “Let’s see if we can find the bedroom.”

She nodded but didn’t speak. The little house was cold. Claire had said Agatha hadn’t always been able to afford the heat. It was a wonder the pipes hadn’t frozen.

A tiny hallway led out of the kitchen. An upright piano, dark chocolate brown, sat in a niche to the right. The room at the end of the hall looked like it could be Agatha’s bedroom. I could see a bed made up with a white chenille bedspread.