Kelly, Sofie - Sleight of Paw

The old man let out a slow breath. To my left his son hadn’t moved an inch. “You don’t think Agatha’s death was an accident?”

“No, I don’t,” I admitted. “Even if someone did hit her by mistake and then panicked, they ran and they left Ruby to be blamed. Either way, Agatha’s death is a crime.”

I set my cup back on the tray and turned toward him. “I saw three very different people argue with Agatha about that old brown envelope. Now it’s disappeared.”

His face went pale and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked at me. “Would it be enough if I told you that what was in the envelope had nothing to do with her death?”

I held out a hand. “I need to be sure,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. But I need to know why you’re so certain.”

He sighed. Boris looked over at him. I gave the dog another scratch behind the ears.

Boris got up and moved over to the old man’s chair. His hand settled on the thick fur on the back of the dog’s neck. “There have been too many secrets,” he said, absently patting the dog. “And I’ve been guilty of keeping them.” He looked over at his son. “You know how much I loved your mother.” It was a statement, not a question.

Harry nodded.

“I’m not making excuses,” the old man began. He stopped and fingered his beard for a moment. “If I’m not making excuses, then I shouldn’t be making them, should I?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Harry said quietly.

They locked eyes and something stretched between them. For a moment it felt almost the way it did when Hercules walked through a wall or a door. The energy in the room seemed to somehow change.

Finally the old man leaned back and smiled wryly. “You know, don’t you?”

I looked from one man to the other, but I didn’t say anything. It was clear I was on the verge of learning something important.

“You had an affair with her.”

Harrison looked at me. “The boy’s right,” he said. “I broke my vows.”

I hadn’t been expecting this.

“My mother had a series of strokes that eventually ended with her in a nursing home,” the younger Harry said, as though his father hadn’t spoken. “She spent the last two years of her life there.” He gestured at his father. “He never missed one single day of visiting her in those two years. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t move.” He looked down at his hand still holding the coffee he hadn’t even touched. Then he met his father’s steady gaze. “No one would fault you for taking a little comfort.”

“I fault myself,” the old man said, his voice harsh. “I had no right to do what I did. How could I offer my heart when I wasn’t free to do that?”

His son set his cup on the tray and stood up. “Don’t judge the man you were so harshly,” he said. “I’m not.” He turned and went out the door.

Boris moved a bit closer to the old man’s feet and stretched out with his head on his paws. “He’s a good man,” Harrison said, his eyes still on the door his son had just exited through.

“Yes, he is.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t awkward. I knew now he was going to tell me the whole story. All I had to do was let him do it in his own way.

“That envelope?” he said finally.

I nodded.

“As far as I know, the only thing in it was information about my daughter.”

All the pieces dropped into place then.

“Agatha had a baby.” I remembered Roma talking about Agatha being away for several months, teaching. It had to be then.

“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t know for a very long time. She left town, had the baby and put her up for adoption.” Boris’s head pushed against his hand again and he began to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Kathleen, you know I’m sick.”

I nodded again, suddenly not trusting my voice.

“I want to meet my daughter before I die. And I want her to have the chance to ask me any questions she might have.” His voice got even quieter. “I hope . . . I hope maybe she’ll want to know her brothers, but that’s her choice. I just want her to have that choice.”

I leaned toward him, elbows on my knees. “Agatha had some kind of papers about your daughter’s adoption in the envelope,” I said.

He nodded. “I think so. That’s what we were arguing about. She thought I was wrong for wanting to meet our child. She said I had no right to push myself into her life.” He shook his head, the memory clearly painful. “I was angry because she’d kept everything secret.” His eyes locked onto my face. “Kathleen, the only person who cared about the contents of the envelope was me. And I didn’t kill Agatha.”

I laid my hand on his arm for a moment. “I know that,” I said. “Are you certain the information about your daughter was the only thing in that envelope?”

“As far as I know,” he said. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure Ruby argued with her about it, too.”

He hung his head for a moment. “That’s because of me, Kathleen. I knew Ruby’s grandfather. I know her mama. Ruby and Agatha were close. In some ways, for Agatha, I think maybe Ruby replaced our child.”

He looked at the dog at his feet, smiling when he lifted his head to look at him. “I’m not proud of it,” he admitted, “but I went to Ruby and asked her to talk to Agatha. It’s my fault she got caught up in all of this. I finally got her on the phone a little while ago. I told her to come clean. Agatha . . . she wouldn’t have wanted it to come to this.”

“It’s not your fault. Ruby has a good lawyer and a lot of friends. She’s not going to . . .” I exhaled slowly. “The truth will come out.”

Harry studied his gnarled fingers. “I even hired a private detective,” he said. “Now with the envelope gone, I don’t know how I’ll find her.” He was talking about his daughter, not Ruby, I realized.

I thought about the piece of paper Hercules had found in Eric’s office. I was going to have to figure out how talk to him about it without letting on how I knew he had it.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. I didn’t want to say anything to Harry until I was sure Eric hadn’t destroyed the envelope, maybe out of some misguided loyalty to Agatha.

“I appreciate that.”

I tried to imagine what it would be like to have a child you’ve never seen out there somewhere, but, really, I couldn’t. My family—my mother and father, and Ethan and Sara—had always been in my life, even when they drove me crazy.

“Harry, did you ask Eric to talk to Agatha?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Why?”

“I saw them that same night. They had words about that envelope.”

“No,” he said. “The only person I pulled into this was Ruby. Whatever Eric was arguing about with Agatha, it wasn’t my daughter.”

I could see that he was getting tired, the lines on his face seemingly etched even deeper. “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“There never should have been all those secrets,” he said. “There never should have been anything to keep secret. I was a married man.”

“You were human being. You loved two women.”

All he could do was nod.

I got to my feet and went to hug the old man, feeling a lump in my throat at the thought that he might not be around much longer.

“I have to keep nosing around to help Ruby,” I said. “If I find that envelope, if I find anything that will help you find your daughter, I promise you, it’s yours.”

I broke out of the hug and he put a hand against my cheek for a moment. “Thank you, Kathleen,” he said.

Behind me in the doorway his son cleared his throat. “I’m going to see Kathleen home, and I’ll be right back,” he said. Harrison lifted a hand in acknowledgment.