Paws and Effect Read online

  Abigail set the book on the counter. “What are you going to make him do?” she asked.

  “I thought I’d have him help me repair those two boxes of books we have in the workroom.” Tommy Justason was an eight-year-old who loved to read, something that made me very happy. But he treated books like they were disposable. His mother had paid for a chapter book that had ended up in the bathtub, two reference books that had been left in the rain and multiple graphic novels that had been run over by Tommy’s bike. “He’s not a bad kid,” I continued. “I think a lot of the time his mind is just somewhere else.”

  Abigail nodded. “Let me know if I can help.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “I almost forgot,” she said, reaching for a pad of paper next to the phone. “I have a message for you. Detective Gordon called.” She gave me a sly smile and wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  “Don’t tell me he’s not bringing my supper after all,” I said.

  Abigail just looked at me the way Owen did when we were having a staring contest.

  I waited but she didn’t say anything. “Umm, aren’t you going to give me the message?” I asked.

  “I would,” she said, “but you told me not to tell you that he’s not bringing your supper. He said to tell you he’s sorry. He has a meeting with the prosecuting attorney.” She handed me the piece of paper. “He sounded sorry.” She wiggled her eyebrows again. “I’m sure he’ll make it up to you.”

  “No comment,” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm.

  “I have hummus,” Abigail offered, grinning at me. I would eat pretty much anything but hummus—which she knew.

  “I have sardine cat crackers in my bag,” I countered.

  Abigail had once stopped at my house while I was making a batch for Owen and Hercules. “That’s a . . . powerful smell,” she’d said, blinking several times as she stood in the middle of my kitchen.

  Mary came bustling behind us with an empty cart. “Crackers and dip,” she exclaimed. “Sound’s delicious. I’ll go up and put the coffee on.”

  “Is she messing with us?” Abigail asked as Mary headed up the stairs.

  “Probably,” I said with a grin. “But she’s also making coffee, so if she wants a sardine cracker who am I to say no?”

  I was in my office, working on a list of books I wanted to buy for the children’s department with the grant the library had been awarded, when Maggie called just before five. Our tai chi class had been canceled because Oren was painting the studio space. “Are you taking a dinner break?” she asked. “I’m not making a lot of progress here and I don’t feel like going home to cook.”

  Maggie didn’t do a lot of cooking, although she did make incredible pizza. However, every pot, pan and dish in her apartment would be dirty by the time it went in the oven.

  “Yes, I’m taking a dinner break,” I said. Owen, who was snoozing in the middle of my desk, lifted his head when he heard me say “dinner.” “I can meet you at Eric’s in about an hour.”

  “I’ll see you there,” she said.

  Owen had gotten to his feet and walked over to me. He rubbed his face against the phone. I had no idea how he knew it was Maggie on the other end, but the only time he did that was when I was talking to her.

  “Owen sends his love,” I said.

  Maggie laughed. “Right back at him.”

  Mia, who worked after school and on the weekends was at the front desk when I came downstairs, checking out a couple of teenagers with a stack of graphic novels and a reference book about the Vietnam War. One of the history teachers at the high school insisted that her students use as many books as they did online references for any essays they wrote. For some of the kids it would be the first time they’d been in the library since story time when they were four.

  I left the truck in the lot and walked over to Eric’s. My timing was perfect because Maggie was just coming up the sidewalk from her studio as I got to the restaurant. I hugged her. “You smell like patchouli,” I said.

  “I was in Ruby’s studio,” she said. “She was making bath salts.”

  Ruby Blackthorne was the new president of the artists’ co-operative. She had multi-pierced ears, Kool-Aid–colored hair and a collection of funky T-shirts. She was also whip-smart and a talented artist, getting some much-deserved attention for her large pop-art paintings.

  “You should see what she’s done to her hair,” Maggie said, picking a clump of cat hair off my jacket. It seemed pretty clear Owen had been doing some roaming around during the afternoon.

  “Did she shave one side of her head again?” I asked. “Or do her bangs navy blue? I liked that.”

  Mags shook her head. “No. It’s brown, light brown.” She made a motion in the air with one hand near her chin. “And she cut it about to here.”

  “No lime green or neon orange?”

  “No.”

  “That is odd,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought.” Maggie led the way into Eric’s. “Do you want to eat at the counter for a change?” she asked.

  I could see two empty stools at the far end. “Sure,” I said.

  Nic was working. Like Maggie and Ruby, Nic was an artist. He worked with found metal and paper and also did some photography.

  “Hi, guys, what can I get you?” he asked. He was about medium height and stocky, with light brown skin and deep brown eyes.

  “Tea, please,” Maggie said. She looked at me. “Hot chocolate?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  Nic gave us each a menu. “I’ll be right back,” he said with a smile.

  I slipped off my jacket and got up to hang it on one of the hooks on the end wall. “What are you having?” I asked as I sat down again.

  “The special is a polenta bowl with roasted vegetables.”

  “That sounds good.” Everything on Eric’s menu was good. He was a great cook and since his wife, Susan, also worked for me at the library I often got an advance taste of new additions to the menu.

  Nic came back then with my hot chocolate and Maggie’s tea. They talked for a moment about an issue she was having with one of her cameras and then he headed to the kitchen with our order.

  Maggie began the little ritual she did with her tea. She reminded me of the way Owen insisted on checking his food before he ate it.

  “I called Roma,” she said, lifting the lid of the pot of hot water and dropping in the tea bag. “She said it’s okay to take John out there tomorrow.”

  “That’s great.” I took a sip of my hot chocolate, topped with a couple of the Jam Lady’s homemade marshmallows. It was chocolaty and not too sweet with a hint of vanilla from the marshmallows. In other words, perfect.

  “Hey, is Dani about my height, a little bit thinner with long blond hair?” Maggie asked.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Did you meet her?”

  She opened the lid of the little pot again and poked the tea bag with a spoon. “No, but I just saw someone I guessed was her with Marcus heading into the bar at the hotel.”

  “When?” I asked swallowing hard against the lump that was suddenly stuck in my throat.

  “When I was walking to the studio,” Maggie said. “Three hours ago I guess.” Then she looked at me. “Wait, you don’t think that . . .” She let the end of the sentence trail away.

  No I didn’t, I realized. I trusted Marcus and I wasn’t going to be jealous and suspicious. “No,” I said aloud. I hesitated. “But something happened earlier, when Marcus and I had breakfast with his friends. Did John mention Travis to you?”

  She peered into the little pot for the third time before finally pouring her tea. “The environmental engineer?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh. When they were all in school together Travis and Dani were a couple.”

  “I take it they’re not a couple anymore.”

&n
bsp; “No.” Nic came back then with our polenta bowls. Once the steaming dishes were in front of us and he’d gone to take someone else’s order I told Maggie what had happened at breakfast. I knew I could count on her to be discreet.

  “So he’s still angry after all this time?”

  “Very,” I said.

  She reached for her tea. “It’s painful to hold on to that bitterness for such a long time.”

  That was Maggie, always taking the compassionate viewpoint. She was unrelentingly kind.

  “You know, it doesn’t really sound like the kind of thing Marcus would do,” she said.

  “That was my thought,” I said, chasing a mushroom around the side of my bowl with a spoon. “But why would you admit to sleeping with your best friend’s girlfriend if you didn’t?”

  “The only reason I can think of is you wanted to hurt him, and I know that’s not Marcus.”

  * * *

  We finished supper and Maggie went back to her studio while I headed back to the library. It was quieter than usual and Owen and I were on our way home by eight fifteen. Over the summer and early fall I’d been experimenting with the library’s closing hours.

  Owen disappeared—not literally—down the stairs headed for his basement lair as soon as we were in the house. I hung up my things and made a cup of hot chocolate. The one I’d had at Eric’s had left me craving more of the Jam Lady’s homemade marshmallows.

  I took my cup and wandered into the living room. Hercules was curled up in the big chair. He at least looked guilty.

  “That’s not your chair,” I said. To my amusement instead of jumping down he moved over as though he was inviting me to join him. So I did.

  Once I was sitting down with my feet up on the footstool Hercules climbed onto my lap and eyed my mug, whiskers twitching.

  “Marshmallows are not cat food,” I said.

  “Mrr,” he grumbled.

  I swiped my little finger in the creamy vanilla foam and held it out to him. “Do not tell Roma I did this,” I warned. “Or your brother.”

  The moment the words were out there was an indignant meow from the kitchen doorway. Owen was standing there, glaring in my direction.

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  The little tabby stalked over in high indignation, jumped onto the footstool and looked pointedly at the cup. I swiped another finger through the melted marshmallow and held out my hand so Owen could have a taste. That meant jostling Hercules just a little, which got me an annoyed look from him as well. Finally everyone, including me, had tasted the marshmallows and, in the case of the boys, licked the stickies off their whiskers. Hercules stretched out on my lap. Owen sprawled across the footstool with his head on my legs. And I told them about Maggie seeing Marcus with Dani.

  Neither one of them seemed the slightest bit interested. I realized that I didn’t really want to talk to them. I wanted to talk to Marcus. I put one hand on Hercules so he wouldn’t be disturbed and reached over for the phone with the other.

  Marcus answered on the fourth ring. “Hi,” he said. “I was just going to call you.”

  “I was going to come out for a few minutes, if that’s okay,” I said. I could tell by their ears that both cats were interested now.

  “It’s more than okay,” he said. “Are you leaving right now?”

  I smiled. “As soon as I get the cats off of me and put on some shoes.”

  “I’ll see you soon, then,” he said.

  Hercules sat up of his own volition, murped at me and jumped down to the floor. Owen, being a little contrary, rolled onto his back and looked at me. I picked him up and set him down on the floor next to the footstool, where he rolled on his back again, paws moving lazily in the air as though he was doing a very low-energy workout.

  I leaned down and stroked the top of his head. “You’re very goofy,” I told him.

  * * *

  Marcus was waiting on the back deck when I walked around the side of his house. He looked tired. I could see lines around his mouth and his hair was mussed as though he’d been pulling his hands back through it, which is what he did when he was stressed.

  He wrapped me in a hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  I stretched up on tiptoes so I could kiss him. “Me too,” I said.

  He gestured at the swing and we sat down, his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry about dinner,” he said.

  “I got your message,” I said, thinking how good he always smelled. Sitting so close, it was easy to get distracted.

  “I had a meeting with the prosecuting attorney that ended up being rescheduled at the last minute.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I talked to Dani again.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  He exhaled, his breath stirring my hair. “She’s upset about Travis and a little embarrassed that you found out about the two of us that way, but she’s okay.”

  We rocked slowly back and forth in silence.

  “It was Dani who made the oatmeal with the plaster of Paris, not you, wasn’t it?” I said.

  He laughed softly in the darkness. “How did you know?”

  I laid my head against his shoulder. “Because you’re more careful than that and I don’t think that’s a quality that’s just happened since you graduated.”

  He kissed the top of my head.

  “And I was watching Dani,” I continued. “She was embarrassed. I could see it in her face.”

  “I came out of the tent and she was sitting on a rock next to the camp stove holding this big pot of oatmeal, which was more like a big pot of concrete.”

  I stretched up intending to kiss the line of his jaw, but he turned his head and I ended up kissing the side of his mouth instead.

  “Umm, what was that for?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “That’s for being so kind to Dani—then and now.”

  He put his other arm around me. “She’s a good person, Kathleen. Things haven’t always gone so well for her.”

  As it got darker I could see the first stars overhead. “You mean Travis,” I said.

  “I thought he was past it all, I really did,” Marcus said. “I haven’t spoken to him since graduation and all he said to me then was that he was never going to forgive me.” He shifted on the seat of the swing so he was facing me. “I’m sorry Travis dropped all of that on you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about them.”

  “I have to admit, it didn’t sound like you—sneaking around with someone else’s girlfriend, I mean.”

  “I’m not trying to make excuses,” he said. “But Dani did try to break it off with him. And for the record, the compromising situation Travis caught us in was me—without a shirt—kissing her just outside her dorm room. We weren’t in bed together.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, trying not to sound judgmental. I didn’t see why Dani couldn’t have ended things with Travis before she got involved with Marcus. “What do you mean she tried?”

  Marcus made a face. “Travis was—still is, as far as I can tell—extremely persistent.”

  “You’re saying he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” I leaned back and the swing began to sway gently back and forth again.

  “Now I realize that’s a sign of a very controlling person. We’d call it obsessive or harassment. But back then . . . And it didn’t help that Dani’s family was crazy about Travis. They put a lot of pressure on her to try to work things out.” He blew out a breath. “We were kids. It . . . uh . . . it was complicated.”

  There was more to what had happened between him and Dani. My instinct wasn’t wrong. “What do you mean by complicated?” I asked.

  Marcus’s cell phone rang then. “Hang on,” he said. He leaned sideways and reached for his phone on the small table next to the swing. The only thing he said was, “Hello.” He listened and then
his body went rigid. I saw him nod even though the person on the other end of the call couldn’t see the movement. “I’ll be right there,” he said finally, ending the call.

  But he didn’t move. He just sat there, one hand still holding the phone.

  I touched his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He turned his head toward me and cleared his throat before he spoke. Even so, his voice was husky with emotion. “That was Hope,” he said.

  Hope Lind was also a detective with the Mayville Heights Police Department.

  “It’s . . . it’s Dani. She fell off an embankment out by Long Lake.”

  “Are they taking her to the hospital in Red Wing or going to Minneapolis?” I wondered if John knew yet. And what about Travis?

  Marcus shook his head. And then I knew. I didn’t need to see his face. I could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the way his hands just hung between his knees. “No,” he said. “She’s . . . she’s dead.”

  4

  Marcus left to meet Hope, and I drove home. Before I got into the truck I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a hug. “I’m so, so sorry about Dani,” I said. “If you need me call or just come by. It doesn’t matter how late it is.”

  He nodded. “Drive carefully.”

  I did drive home just a little more attentively, thinking how fragile life can be. I barely knew Dani but I had liked what I did know. As I headed around the house to the back door I stopped to look up at the stars overhead and hoped that wherever Dani was now she was at peace.

  Marcus showed up just after six a.m. I’d had a restless night. I was leaning against the counter waiting for the coffee when he tapped on the back door. He had dark circles like sooty smudges under his eyes and he needed a shave. The half smile he gave me didn’t make it anywhere near his blue eyes. He propped an elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand. I got a cup of coffee and set it next to him.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  I sat next to him at the table. “Could I get you some breakfast?”

  He put a hand over mine. “Just sit with me for a bit.”