Paws and Effect Page 11

  The breeze off the water blew my hair against my face. I brushed it back. “How about you see if you can find anything more about the McAllisters’ and let me see if I can learn more about Ernie Kingsley?” I said.

  “Why not?” Hope said. “You couldn’t do any worse than I have so far.” She said good-bye with a promise she’d call me with whatever she found out about Dani’s family.

  So how could I find out more about the developer? Everett? I knew he liked Marcus and if I went to Rebecca she’d nudge her husband to help. Then I remembered Rebecca telling me that Everett was going to Japan on business for a few days. Who else could I talk to? Lita? I didn’t really want to put her on the spot.

  I broke my brownie in half and ate it, hoping somehow inspiration would find me. And then it drove into the parking lot in the form of a delivery truck bringing two boxes of easy readers for our Reading Buddies program.

  “Simon Janes,” I said aloud. There were no cats to murp their agreement to my idea and the robin in a nearby tree didn’t seem very interested.

  Simon Janes was the father of Mia Janes. She’d come to the library as a student intern and worked out so well that I’d hired her part-time. I knew Simon’s company was involved somehow in commercial real estate. Maybe he could tell me something, anything, about Ernie Kingsley. It was worth a try.

  I finished my lunch and went back inside. “I just have to make a call and then I’ll be down to take over,” I said to Susan, who was at the desk sorting books.

  “Take your time,” she said. It looked like she’d secured her updo today with a couple of demitasse spoons. I’d learned a long time ago that there was always going to be a sense of whimsy to Susan’s fashion choices.

  Upstairs in my office I looked up the number I wanted and after a moment of hesitation punched it into the phone. The phone at the other end rang twice before it was answered. “Good afternoon, Simon Janes’s office,” a polished, professional voice with just a hint of huskiness said.

  “Hello,” I said. “It’s Kathleen Paulson from the library calling.”

  The professional voice got a little warmer. “Hello, Ms. Paulson. Mia works for you. She’s told me how good you’ve been to her. Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine,” I said. “Mia has been a wonderful asset to the library. She’s a hard worker and everyone from the preschoolers at story time to the seniors book club adores her.”

  “I’m not at all surprised,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “So how may I help you?”

  “I was hoping to get about ten minutes of Mr. Janes’s time,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Mia.”

  I’d met Simon Janes the previous winter at a fundraiser for the library’s Reading Buddies program. He was outspoken to the point of being rude, in my opinion—very different from his quiet, soft-spoken daughter. However, Mia had clearly inherited some of her father’s confidence. When the expansion of the Reading Buddies program had been put at risk because we hadn’t raised enough money, Mia—according to her father—had called him on his brash behavior and pointed out that he could easily afford to fund the program, which he did, with a check from his personal account.

  I’d seen Janes several times since then when he came into the library to pick up his daughter. And more than once I’d caught him watching me, a bemused look on his face. He didn’t look away and he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught.

  “Would eight o’clock tomorrow morning work for you?” the woman with the lovely voice asked.

  “Yes, it would. Thank you,” I said, relieved that she hadn’t asked me why I wanted the meeting. I got directions to Janes’s office, thanked her again and hung up.

  Abigail and I were in the workroom, late that afternoon, opening the boxes of readers when Susan poked her head around the doorway. “Call for you, Kathleen,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing bits of paper and packing materials off my hands. I went into my office to answer the phone.

  “Hello, Kathleen, it’s Simon Janes,” the voice on the other end said.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Janes,” I said, wondering why he’d called. Was he going to cancel our appointment or did he just want to know why I wanted to see him?”

  Luckily, he got right to the point. “We have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow morning and I have to make an unplanned trip to Minneapolis.”

  My heart sank.

  “But if you’d like to join me for an early supper at the St. James Hotel we could talk then.”

  I didn’t want to lose the chance to pick the man’s brain. “Yes, thank you. I would,” I said.

  We agreed to meet at the hotel bar at five thirty. I didn’t doubt that Simon Janes had a meeting in Minneapolis, but I also suspected that changing the time and place of our meeting was a way for him to control it. That was fine with me. As Harrison Taylor would say, I’d been around the block a time or two and recognized the scenery.

  I left the library at the same time I would have left if I’d been going home to have supper and change for tai chi class. I’d already sent Maggie a text letting her know I might miss class. I parked the truck on a side street near the hotel. I was early but as I walked into the hotel bar I discovered I wasn’t as early as Janes. He was leaning back in his seat at a small table in the center of the room, legs crossed. As I approached he got to his feet and pulled out the other chair for me.

  “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. He was tall with a firm handshake and direct gaze, and once again I thought he didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be the parent of a seventeen-year-old.

  Since he’d referred to me by my first name I did the same. “Hello, Simon,” I said as I sat down. “Thanks for fitting me into your schedule.”

  He took the chair opposite me again. “When Mia’s working at the library I generally eat alone.” He shrugged. “I like my own company but sometimes it’s good to have someone else’s. I’ve heard all my stories.” He gave a practiced, self-deprecating smile.

  “Well, I promise to listen attentively and nod and smile in the appropriate places.”

  He laughed. “Then it should be a good meal.”

  He turned his head and a waiter materialized beside us. He handed each of us a menu.

  “Are you driving, Kathleen?” Simon asked.

  I nodded.

  “Sparkling water, then?”

  “Please,” I said.

  “Two please, Michael,” he said to the waiter.

  The young man nodded. “Right away, sir.”

  Simon leaned back in his chair, the menu untouched on the table in front of him. “How do you feel about pizza?” he asked.

  “I like pizza,” I said.

  I noticed he had a crescent-shaped scar that ran from the end of his right eyebrow to just below the eye. “Mia says that my habit of suggesting what to order when I’m with a woman is condescending and patriarchal. So I’m just going to say that they have great pizza here and would you like to share one? Of course you don’t have to say yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I think that covers all the disclaimers.”

  I couldn’t help smiling back at him. I’d seen his arrogance and I had no doubt that he could be condescending and patriarchal, but he could also be charming. “I’ve never had the pizza here,” I said, “but I’ve heard good things about it, so yes, let’s split one.”

  Michael, the waiter, returned with our sparkling water. I squeezed a little lime into mine and took a drink while Simon relayed our order, taking the opportunity to study the man. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but his dark suit was expensive and expertly tailored. He was somewhere below six feet, rangy, with his hair buzzed close to his head. He certainly looked the part of the successful businessman but something about the way he carried himself made me think he’d started at the bottom. He rem
inded me of Burtis Chapman, I realized. I wouldn’t want either man for an enemy.

  Once the waiter left Simon turned his attention to me. “So what do you want to ask me about first?” he said. “The Long Lake proposal or Ernie Kingsley?”

  I think my mouth fell open in surprise. “How did you know?” I managed to get out.

  “I knew this meeting had nothing to do with Mia,” he said. “I know she’s happy working for you and I’ve picked her up enough times to feel confident that you’re all happy with her.”

  I nodded. “We are.”

  “From what Mia’s told me the reading program is going well and you don’t have any papers with you, so you didn’t want to meet with me to hit me up for money.”

  He’d approached our meeting the same way I might have. “You’re right again,” I said.

  One forearm rested on the edge of the table. The other was on his leg. He didn’t have any fidgety tics that I’d picked up so far. “You and Detective Gordon are a couple.”

  It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t say anything.

  “He has a connection to the woman who was killed—the geologist with that environmental group.”

  I nodded again. “They were friends in college.”

  “You’re looking for information.”

  The conversation was beginning to feel like a tennis match. Serve and volley. Serve and volley.

  “Yes,” was all I said.

  “So what? You think Ernie could have killed that woman?”

  At least I wasn’t going to have to play any games. “I don’t know. I don’t know the man—he doesn’t have a library card. But you know him. What do you think?”

  He laughed. “I don’t have a library card, either. Does that mean I’m flawed as a human being in your eyes?”

  Out of the corner of my eyes I caught sight of our waiter, coming from the kitchen. “You’re generous when it’s a good cause, like Reading Buddies, but you don’t like to waste money. I don’t see that as a flaw. Also, you’re a big fan of Vin Diesel and you wanted to be a lawyer.”

  I’d timed it perfectly. Michael arrived then with the pizza and our plates. Simon waited until we each had a slice before he spoke.

  “Very good,” he said. “How did you do that?”

  I took a bite of my pizza before I answered. It was good, with a thin, crispy crust, tomatoes, onions, salami, fresh herbs and wonderfully stringy mozzarella. “This is good,” I said.

  Simon didn’t say anything but “I told you so” was written in the expression on his face.

  I set my fork down. “So how do I know so much about you? I’m observant. You don’t have a library card, but you do borrow things on Mia’s card. You’ve watched every movie in the Fast and the Furious franchise more than once.”

  “Maybe Mia’s the fan,” he said.

  I shook my head. “She likes fantasy and Japanese anime. So it has to be you who likes Vin Diesel. You could have bought those movies or downloaded them but you didn’t. That would be a waste of money when you can borrow them for free. But you did give us money for Reading Buddies. That says you’re frugal but not cheap.”

  “And law school?”

  “Scott Turow and a lucky guess. You’ve read everything we have that he’s written and requested two books we didn’t have. And I know Mia wants to be a doctor.”

  For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he laughed. “Very good, Kathleen. I’m impressed. And I’m not easily impressed.”

  I cut another bite from my pizza. “I answered your question but you didn’t answer mine.”

  “Do I think Ernie could have killed that woman?”

  I nodded.

  “Ernie Kingsley is a junkyard dog who would sell out his own mother to make a deal. But I don’t think he’d kill someone to make a deal.” His expression turned serious. “He does have a temper, though. Last year he was at some business lunch at a restaurant in Minneapolis. I don’t know any of the details, but things got a little heated, some punches were thrown, the police were called. Then it all went away.” He held up his left hand and ran his thumb over the end of his middle finger, implying, it seemed to me, that money had made everything go away.

  “Have you considered that squatter?” Simon asked. He glanced in the direction of the bar and once again the waiter seemed to appear out of nowhere, this time with another glass of sparkling water for Simon. “Could I get you another?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” I turned my attention to Simon. “What squatter?”

  “There’s a guy living in the woods out there, close to the lake. He claims his family owned that land a hundred years ago and it was taken from them illegally. I don’t think there’s anything to his claims. In fact it looks like he’s nothing but a deadbeat dad trying to avoid supporting his kids.” He didn’t try to hide the contempt in his voice.

  “I know the natural-resources people have had a couple of run-ins with him and I heard that the guy came after Ernie with an ax. Guy has this old truck with some kind of camper thing on the back that he’s living in.”

  Hope’s words came back to me: “The medical examiner thinks she was hit by a car, then the body was moved and she was . . . dropped over.”

  Maybe this was the answer. Maybe this man, this squatter living in the woods, was the person who killed Dani. Maybe he’d hit her by accident and panicked.

  “Thank you, Simon,” I said. The knot that had been in the pit of my stomach since the night Hope showed up at my door loosened.

  “I’m glad I could help,” he said.

  We spent the rest of the meal talking about Reading Buddies. He seemed genuinely interested and once again I thought that behind the somewhat arrogant exterior there was a pretty nice guy.

  Before we parted ways in front of the hotel Simon took out a business card and scribbled something on the back of it before handing it to me. “My cell phone number. If I can help with anything else.”

  I headed back to the truck and drove up Mountain Road. A furry-faced committee of two was waiting in the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, dropping my briefcase and shoes under the coat hooks. “I was talking to Mia’s father. I may have something that can help find whoever killed Dani.”

  I bent down to pet them both. Hercules sniffed my hand and then narrowed his green eyes in suspicion. Owen’s whiskers twitched and he gave a loud and somewhat huffy meow.

  “Yes, I had supper with him.” The cats exchanged a look.

  “Mrr?” Hercules asked. I knew what that meant. I’d heard it enough times.

  “Pizza,” I said.

  Hercules made a sound a lot like a sigh. Owen, on the other hand, put on his indignant face and made a point of turning his head and looking away from me.

  “It was the only time he had available and it’s not as though I could call you.”

  Hercules tipped his head and looked in the direction of the living room, where the phone was.

  I put my face close to his and scratched the spot where the white fur of his nose met the black fur from the top of his head. “You don’t have opposable thumbs,” I said.

  Beside him Owen gave an audible sigh. I reached over with my free hand and scratched behind his left ear. Then I leaned closer to him. “I’m sorry,” I said. He still wouldn’t look at me.

  I got to my feet, got the stinky crackers and put a stack of four in front of each cat. Hercules looked up and smiled at me. Clearly all was forgiven. Owen sniffed the crackers as though he hadn’t eaten hundreds if not thousands of them by now. He eyed me briefly, then nudged the pile over with his nose and began checking the crackers one by one.

  Poet Alexander Pope wrote, “To err is human; to forgive divine.” In my experience a few sardine crackers helped getting to the divine.

  7

  I
made it to tai chi just as Maggie formed the circle. I hurried across the room, hopping on one foot as I pulled on my shoes, and slid in next to Roma. She smiled a hello, already swinging her arms along with Mags and the rest of the class.

  It was good to set aside everything else that had been on my mind and just concentrate on the form and my Push Hands for the duration of class.

  “How are you?” Roma asked after we’d finished the form at the end. “And how’s Marcus?”

  Roma had been out of town at a convention for several days. Marcus and I—along with Harry Taylor—had taken care of the cats while she was gone.

  “We’re both okay,” I said, patting my face with the edge of my shirt. “There’s something I wanted to ask you. Do you have a second?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  I led her over to the windows at the end of the room. “Do you know anything about some guy living in an old truck somewhere near Long Lake?”

  Roma nodded. “His name is Ira. He’s been out there for the last five or six months. Do you think he had something to do with what happened to Marcus’s friend?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. How has he managed to stay out there for so long?”

  “He claims his family owns some piece of land out there—nothing that’s part of the development. I heard there’s some kind of court case and that’s why he hasn’t been forcibly evicted.” She reached over and picked a clump of cat hair off the front of my shirt. “You could try talking to Oren. I think the guy is related to the Kenyons somehow.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said. “Thanks.” I studied her face for a moment. “How are you, really? Rebecca told me that Eddie is going to be working with Everett.”

  Eddie was Eddie Sweeney, former all-star player for the Minnesota Wild hockey team, now retired, and Roma’s former boyfriend. Their relationship had ended when he proposed and Roma turned him down. She was older than Eddie and that, plus the fact that it was too late for her to have children, was the reason she’d said no. Eddie was crazy about Roma and he wasn’t giving up.