Paws and Effect Page 16

  He almost smiled. “I didn’t think you were that stupid. But if he gets even a hint of what you suspect he’ll surround himself with a flank of lawyers and you’ll lose your chance to find out whether Ernie was involved or not.”

  I felt something sour at the back of my throat. He was right. “I can’t just do nothing, Simon,” I said, making a helpless gesture at the door with one hand.

  “Twenty-four hours.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Give me twenty-four hours. If you’ll wait that long I’ll get you a meeting with him if you still want it.”

  “How do I know you won’t just go warn him about what I suspect?”

  “Oh c’mon, Kathleen.” He held up both hands in exasperation. “I know you don’t know me very well but I think you know me better than that.”

  I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him. “What do you mean by you’ll get me a meeting if I ‘still want it’?”

  Nothing changed in his expression. “If by tomorrow at this time you still feel you need to talk to Kingsley I will make sure you get a meeting with him. You have my word.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “So I just trust you.” I didn’t bother trying not to sound skeptical.

  He smiled then. Mia had exactly the same smile. “Yeah. You just trust me.”

  If I tried to go back into the meeting Simon was perfectly capable of causing a scene—and would. I had nothing to lose by waiting for a day. And something, some instinct I couldn’t explain, told me I could trust Simon.

  “All right,” I said. “Twenty-four hours.” I squinted at him. “And if you ever grab me like that again I won’t hold anything back.”

  He grinned and one eyebrow went up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  “C’mon in,” Maggie called when I knocked on her apartment door that evening. I’d stopped at the house to change and had left two very disgruntled cats at home.

  The aroma of sausage and oregano met me on the stairs. Maggie was at the stove. And Roma was sitting on the sofa.

  “Hi,” I said. She got to her feet and wrapped me in a hug. “I didn’t know I was going to get to see you, too.”

  “I can’t say no to Maggie’s pizza,” Roma said. “And I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I’m sorry I was gone when all this was going on.”

  “I’m all right,” I said. “There wasn’t anything you could have done and truthfully, some days I was glad to just spend some time with Lucy and the other cats.”

  “What about Marcus? Is he okay?” I could see the concern on her face.

  “He is. In fact, he made breakfast for me.”

  Roma and Maggie exchanged a look and grinned. “Ooooo,” they exclaimed like a couple of fourteen-year-olds.

  “Don’t start,” I warned.

  Roma immediately clasped her hands primly in front of herself and tried not to look Maggie in the eye. Maggie pressed her lips together and attempted to be serious but it didn’t exactly work. I could see the laughter in her green eyes.

  It was so good to spend time with them. Somehow, just being in the same room with them made everything I’d been worried about seem a little less, well, worrisome.

  “What can I do, Mags?” I asked. There was flour in her hair and on her hands and a dab of sauce on her chin. And as usual when she made pizza there wasn’t a bare bit of counter space in the kitchen.

  “Sit and talk to Roma,” Maggie said, turning back to the cast-iron skillet on the stove.

  “We can clean up later,” Roma said, quietly settling onto one corner of the couch.

  “I heard you.” Maggie frowned down at the contents of the pan.

  “We know.” Roma smiled. It was good to see her smile. I knew how much she missed Eddie. I’d tried very hard to support her decision even though I wished she’d change her mind and say yes to his proposal, but after close to five months I was afraid that might never happen.

  I sat next to her on the sofa. “How are you?” I asked. “I know Eddie’s moved into his new place.”

  She nodded. “I told him to go back to Minneapolis, to go home.” The way she felt about him was written in every line on her face, just the same way it was with him. “He said as long as I was here this was home.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind.” I didn’t phrase it as a question because I already knew the answer.

  Roma shook her head. “Nothing’s changed.” She moved to shift the pillow behind her. I noticed that once again she was wearing the antique rose gold locket Eddie had bought her. Maybe there was hope for the two of them after all.

  “Syd’s coming in a couple of weeks,” Roma said. “She has three days off school and she’s going to spend a night with me.”

  “I’m glad you still get to see her.”

  “That’s her mom as much as it is Eddie.” She gave me a half smile. “She’s really trying to get us back together. Syd, I mean. She told me this breakup could scar her for life and affect her ability to have a healthy relationship when she’s an adult.”

  I smiled. “What did you say to her?”

  Roma sighed softly. “I told her it was complicated. She said that was what adults said whenever they were doing something stupid.”

  “She loves her dad and she loves you, too,” I said.

  “And I love her. I’m so glad I still get to be part of her life.” She looked away for a moment and then her eyes met mine again. “Do you think it’s selfish of me to stay in Syd’s life? Is it going to be too awkward when Eddie meets someone else?”

  “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body,” Maggie interjected. She was at the sink. I had no idea what she was doing. Not dishes, because it seemed like every surface in the small kitchen was covered with dirty ones. “And it’s not like there’s so much love in the world that there isn’t enough room for a little more,” she added.

  I nodded. “What Maggie said. It’s not selfish. It’s loving.” I reached over and gave Roma’s arm a squeeze. I didn’t say that I didn’t think Eddie was going to meet someone else. When Roma had decided she couldn’t marry Eddie because she was older than he was, she’d told Maggie and me she didn’t want us to feel we had to take sides. I’d promised her that we’d do our best not to, but if it came down to that we were one hundred percent on hers.

  Roma leaned sideways to see what Maggie was doing in the kitchen. “Could we please do something?” she asked.

  Maggie opened the oven door, slid the pizza inside and then poked her head in to check something.

  “I guess it’s not too early to set the table,” she said, her voice echoing a little from inside the oven. She pulled her head out and brushed off the front of the denim apron she was wearing.

  Roma was already getting the placemats. I got up and started clearing off the table.

  “These are nice,” Roma said, holding up the woven placemats. “Where did you get them?”

  Maggie turned to look at her and smiled. “They are nice, aren’t they? You know the big barn, Hollister’s, about a mile past you?”

  Roma nodded.

  “That’s where I got them. Brady was with me and he bought an old Lime Ricky bottle.”

  “You mean the place with the American flag weathervane?” I said, wondering why there were chocolate chips on the table if we were having pizza. “I thought they were a vegetable stand.”

  “They are,” Maggie said. “They have the best corn and potatoes. Oh, and honey. But then the barn is like a flea market, plus Gerald—he’s the father—always has a few old vehicles for sale. People use them mostly for off-roading.”

  “I almost forgot,” Roma said as she folded napkins to put at each place. “Did you talk to Oren?”

  “He thinks Ira might have gone to Florida.” I moved over to the sink and began running some hot water so
I could wipe the table and the counter.

  Maggie opened the dishwasher and started putting spoons in the utensil rack. “You mean Ira who’s been living out by the lake?”

  I nodded, adding soap to the hot water in the sink. Even though Maggie had a dishwasher I knew she didn’t put her good glasses in it and I could see four of them in various places around the kitchen. “There’s no sign of him out at the lake. Or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “Kath, you don’t think Ira had anything to do with the death of Marcus’s friend, do you?” She turned and peeked at the pizza through the oven window. For Maggie, pizza-making was as much an art as collage or painting.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Not deliberately, but maybe by accident.”

  Mags shook her head emphatically. “Ira doesn’t have that kind of energy.”

  Roma gave me a look. Maggie was a very spiritual person. I’d heard her make that kind of comment about someone before. And in my experience she was usually pretty accurate in her assessment of people.

  “Should I set a place for Brady?” Roma asked.

  I rinsed my cloth and went to wipe the table for her. She smiled a thank-you.

  Maggie had picked up a plastic spatula and was scraping at some bits of dough dried to the granite countertop. “He has a meeting. He’ll be here later.”

  Roma finished setting the table and helped Maggie scrape dishes and load the dishwasher. I washed all the glasses and Maggie’s big saucepot, and the kitchen was pretty much cleaned up by the time the oven timer beeped.

  Maggie reached for her oven mitts and peered through the window in the oven door. “They look like they’re done,” she said. She tipped her head in the direction of the counter by the sink. “Kath, would you grab the platter for me?”

  The pizza was delicious as always—sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes and chewy mozzarella on a thick crust with just a hint of olive oil and a dusting of cornmeal on the bottom. As good as the pizza I’d had at the hotel with Simon had been, this was better. The resolution I’d made to just have one slice was very quickly broken.

  Like we usually did, we moved into the living room for dessert. Roma had made lemon pudding.

  “This is really good,” I said, scraping the bottom of my bowl.

  Roma smiled. “The recipe is easy. I’ll e-mail it to you.”

  “There’s more,” Maggie said. She got to her feet, took the small glass dish from my hand and walked over to the kitchen. “Roma, what about you?” she asked.

  Roma shook her head, “I’m good, thanks.”

  Maggie came back with more pudding for both of us, handed me my dish and sat down again, stretching her long legs onto the footstool.

  “What happens now as far as the investigation goes into the death of Marcus’s friend?” Roma asked. “Do the police have any suspects other than Marcus—which is ridiculous, by the way?”

  “They’re looking for Ira; at least I assume they are. And Hope has been doing what she can.”

  Maggie licked her spoon and gestured at me with it. “Marcus’s friend, is her brother Dominic McAllister by any chance?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’s kind of odd,” she said. I waited for her to explain but she ate another spoonful of pudding instead.

  Roma glanced at me and smiled. “Odd how?” she asked.

  “Remember last year when that group of artists in Minneapolis wanted to buy the old shoe factory and turn it into studio space with a café on the main floor? They were going to reinforce the roof and put solar panels up there and a garden so the building would be completely self-sufficient.”

  “I remember that,” I said. “But it didn’t work out. The building was torn down and some developer is building a condo high-rise.” I looked at my bowl, wondering where exactly my second serving of pudding had disappeared to.

  “Not some developer,” Maggie said. “Dominic McAllister.”

  “So his sister’s an ardent environmentalist and he’s not,” Roma said.

  Maggie nodded. “Like I said, odd.”

  I heard a noise behind us then and a voice called, “Hello.”

  Brady.

  “C’mon up,” Maggie called. She turned in the direction of the stairs. Her smile got a little wider.

  Brady Chapman had his father’s smile and the same strong arms and huge hands. He’d started to go gray very early but the salt-and-pepper hair didn’t make him look old at all. He wore it short and spiked a bit on top.

  Maggie got up and took his jacket from him and I noticed the smile that passed between them. Even though she kept insisting the relationship with Brady wasn’t serious I could see that it seemed to be heading in that direction.

  “How was your meeting?” she asked.

  “Long but worth it, I think.” He smiled at Roma and me. “How was the pizza?”

  “Wonderful as always,” Roma said. “We saved you a piece.” Her eyes darted in my direction. “We did, didn’t we?”

  “I made two,” Maggie said.

  Brady dropped onto the arm of Roma’s chair. He looked over at me. “Maggie said you wanted to ask me about Elliot Gordon?”

  I’d told Maggie and Roma about Marcus’s dad arriving the night before while we were eating. “He showed up on my doorstep last night.”

  One eyebrow went up but Brady didn’t say anything.

  “I really do believe he wants to help Marcus and I don’t think he’s leaving any time soon.” I stopped. Now that Brady was here I wasn’t sure how to continue. It seemed petty to say I wasn’t sure if I could trust him. But it seemed as though Brady could read my mind.

  “You want to know if you should give him all your trust.” It was a nicer way of expressing my reservations.

  “Yes.”

  Brady made a fist with one hand and cupped it with the other. “I really only know Elliot by reputation. I don’t know him personally and I’ve never faced him in court, so keep in mind what I’m telling you is secondhand.”

  I nodded, leaning forward a little and propping my elbow on the arm of the sofa. “He argued a case in front of the Supreme Court when he was only twenty-eight and won against a far more experienced and seasoned litigator.”

  “Wow,” Roma whispered.

  “We studied the case when I was in law school. My professor said Elliot was a cross between F. Lee Bailey and Johnnie Cochran with some Perry Mason thrown in.”

  I remembered the man’s somewhat melodramatic arrival at Eric’s Place. The description seemed accurate from what I’d seen so far.

  “So he’s good at what he does?”

  “Very good,” Brady said. I noticed Maggie was leaning against him, although I wasn’t sure she was aware of that. “He also has a reputation for stepping over or on people who get in his way.”

  I nodded.

  “Has this helped at all?” he asked.

  “It has,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Maggie put a hand on Brady’s leg. “Want a slice?” she asked.

  He nodded and then held up two fingers. “Two, maybe?”

  They moved into the kitchen. Roma touched my arm and I shifted in my seat to face her.

  “I have a suggestion. I don’t know if it will help.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you remember when we were trying to find out how Tom—my father—died?”

  “I remember,” I said. It had been a very painful time for Roma, finding out that the biological father she’d thought had abandoned her had really been dead for almost all of her life.

  “The key to figuring that out was learning more about him as a person. Maybe that’s true for Dani as well.”

  Some of the things I’d learned about Tom Karlsson were ugly, but they had ultimately led to his killer. Maybe I did need to find out more about Dani the person.

&
nbsp; I nodded slowly. “Maybe it is.”

  11

  It was unseasonably warm the next morning. I took my coffee outside. Owen came to sit on the wide arm of the Adirondack chair. He was washing his face when suddenly his head came up. His ears twitched and he turned his head to look at the side of the house. “Mrrr,” he said.

  I waited and after a moment Elliot Gordon came around the side of the house.

  I got to my feet. “How do you do that?” I said to Owen. He’d already resumed washing his face and ignored me.

  “Good morning,” Elliot said. He was wearing jeans and a close-fitting black sweater with black leather shoulder and elbow patches. And he was carrying a large manila envelope.

  “Good morning,” I said. I held up my mug. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I would, if it’s no trouble.”

  “It’s already made.” I gestured to the door. “Come into the kitchen.”

  I got Elliot a cup of coffee, refilled my own and we sat at the table. He slid the envelope across the table to me.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “Everything I’ve been able to find on the McAllister family.”

  I pulled out a sheaf of papers. There were notes in fine, neat handwriting made in the margins of some of the pages. I suspected this was research done by a legal assistant.

  “Can you give me the short version?”

  “American Land Trust, the organization Danielle McAllister worked for, is funded by her grandmother.”

  I frowned, flipping through the pages. “Are you sure?”

  He didn’t say anything and when I looked up the expression on his face told me he was just going to ignore my question.

  “The money is filtered through a number of different corporate entities,” he said.

  “Which means it’s not common knowledge—or something the family wanted to be common knowledge.”

  “I think that’s a safe assumption,” Elliot said, adding cream to his coffee.

  “Do you think Dani knew?” I asked.

  He nodded over the top of his coffee cup. “Based on when the organization was formed and when she went to work for them I don’t see how she couldn’t.”