Sleight Of Paw

4

Agatha lay partly on her stomach. I tried to stay in Ruby’s footprints as I reached the body. It seemed pretty clear, based on the waxy appearance of Agatha’s skin and the fact that she wasn’t moving, that she wasn’t alive, but still I felt I had to check.

I crouched in the snow and pulled off one mitten. Agatha’s eyes were closed. I felt for a pulse at her neck. Nothing.

I closed my eyes for a second, silently sending up a prayer that whatever had caused the woman to die had been swift and painless. Then I got to my feet and turned back to Ruby. Maggie was beside her, one arm around Ruby’s rigid shoulders. I shook my head, and Ruby sagged against Maggie.

My phone was in my briefcase back in the restaurant, I realized. “Do you have your phone?” I called to Maggie.

She pulled it out of her pocket and held it up.

“Call nine-one-one.”

Maggie gave Ruby’s shoulder a squeeze, took a few steps away from her and flipped the phone open. Ruby started back toward the body, and I moved to intercept her.

“Kathleen, please, can you help Agatha?” she said, gesturing at the body with a shaking hand.

I caught her by both arms and turned her away. “Maggie’s getting help,” I said.

“I can’t leave her there covered in snow,” Ruby stammered, lips quivering.

I started walking back toward Maggie. There were several people at the mouth of the alley. Maggie had her free arm extended, making it clear no one should go any farther.

“The police are on their way, Ruby,” I said gently.

She looked at me as though the words had washed over her without registering. “I have a blanket in the truck,” she said, swiping at her face. “I’ll just . . . I’ll just go . . . go get it so we can cover her up.” She started to pull away from me, and I tightened my grip on her arm.

“Ruby, we can’t do that.”

She looked at me, stricken, tears tracing a track down each cheek. “I can’t . . . I can’t just leave her . . . there, like a . . . like nothing, covered in snow.”

I swallowed a couple of times. “I know,” I said. “But we can’t touch anything, not more than we already have.”

Ruby took a shaky breath.

“Did you move the . . . Agatha?” I asked. “Did you pick anything up?”

She shook her head. “I was cutting through the alley because I knew I was late and I’d had to park around the corner. When I saw her and realized . . . it was Agatha, I just ran for help. I didn’t . . . I didn’t touch anything.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Kathleen, are you sure she’s . . . ?” She didn’t finish the sentence, and I hated having to be the one to destroy that faint spark of hope in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ruby. She is,” I said softly.

She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. The hand looked raw and red in the icy air.

Maggie half turned as we reached her. “They’re on their way,” she said.

I looked from Mags to Ruby and inclined my head in the direction of the café.

“Can you manage?” Maggie asked, her voice just above a whisper, realizing what I wanted.

“Police will be here any minute.”

She nodded and moved to circle Ruby in a hug. “C’mon, Ruby. It’s freezing. Let’s go to Eric’s and get some tea.”

Ruby hesitated. “I should stay,” she began.

“I’ll stay,” I said. “I promise I won’t leave until the police get here.”

Ruby looked down the alley again. Her whole body was shaking from shock and the cold.

“There isn’t anything you can do for Agatha,” I said. “You’re freezing. Go with Maggie.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

Maggie led her away, and I stayed at the mouth of the alley, listening for sirens, my hands jammed in my pockets, shifting from one foot to the other, partly to stay warm and partly to keep the creeping sense of dread I was feeling under control.

It was only a few minutes more when the first patrol car arrived and parked, nose angled across the sidewalk. I recognized the officer who got out. He’d taken me to be fingerprinted after I’d found Gregor Easton’s body last summer. He’d also been in the library a lot lately, reading everything we had about the law and law school.

I turned and pointed down the narrow passage. “She’s down there.”

He nodded. “Please wait here, Ms. Paulson,” he said.

I watched him make his way carefully back to Agatha’s body. Just as I had, he bent to check for a pulse.

“Good morning, Kathleen,” a voice said behind me.

I swung around so quickly I almost lost my balance on the icy pavement. Marcus Gordon caught my arm to steady me. “Careful.”

I took a step backward and regained my footing. “Thank you,” I said. I tipped my head back to look at him. He seemed bigger than usual in his heavy black parka and black knitted hat. His wavy, dark hair was a bit longer these days—maybe because it was winter?

“What happened?’ ” he asked, his tone conversational, as though we’d just bumped in to each other on the sidewalk and were discussing all the snow. I knew from experience that once he got immersed in a case, it would be his complete focus and he’d be all business.

“That’s Agatha Shepherd,” I said, pointing down the alley.

His deep blue eyes narrowed and he leaned around me for a look. The young officer saw him and started toward us.

“She’s dead. I couldn’t find a pulse.” I remembered the feel of Agatha’s skin under my fingers, so, so cold.

“How did you find the body?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” I said.

Marcus held up a gloved finger. “Excuse me a moment,” he said. He walked a few steps to intercept the officer. Heads together, Marcus did all the talking, gesturing toward the body. The other man listened and nodded. Finally Marcus walked back to me, moving me to the side with a small touch on my arm.

“So you didn’t find the body? What are you doing here?”

“Maggie and I were having breakfast at Eric’s. We were waiting for Ruby . . . Blackthorne to join us.” I remembered Ruby’s face as she stood in the doorway. “Ruby was cutting through the alley,” I said. “She found Agatha.”

My fingers were cold and so were my feet, despite two pairs of socks. I stuffed both hands in my pockets and shot a quick look back over my shoulder, but couldn’t really see anything now.

I looked at Marcus again. “I came back here with Ruby to see if Agatha was alive.” I shook my head. “Maggie called nine-one-one, and then she took Ruby back to Eric’s. I waited for you.”

He nodded. As usual he wasn’t writing anything down. “What did you touch?”

“The collar of her coat when I felt for a pulse.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” I said.

A police van pulled up next to the police cruiser. Marcus looked back down the alley again. “That’s all for now,” he said. “You’ll be at the library if I have any more questions?”

I nodded.

“Thanks, Kathleen.” He looked at me expectantly. For a second I was confused; then I realized I was being dismissed. He was already shifting into police officer mode. I didn’t think he even realized how cold that could make him seem. Without saying anything else, I turned and made my way back to the restaurant.

Maggie and Ruby were at the table. I sat down opposite them, pulling off my coat and hanging it on the back of my chair. “The police are here,” I said.

Claire came over unasked and brought a new coffee cup for me. As far as I could see, Eric still hadn’t shown up.

I drank from my mug, the warmth from the steaming coffee spreading through my chest. We sat in silence, and finally Ruby looked at me.

Her face was still very pale, but she seemed less distraught, like the initial shock of finding Agatha was wearing off. “Thank you for waiting for the police,” she said.

I gave her a small smile. “It was nothing,” I said. “Detective Gordon is going to want to talk to you.”

Ruby stared down into her teacup. “I thought she was . . . I thought it was a bag of garbage that had blown into the alley,” she said. “I didn’t know it was Agatha until I got right up to her.” She rubbed her finger along the rim of the cup.

Maggie laid a hand on her arm for a moment.

“I don’t understand what she was doing in the alley in the first place.” Ruby said. She picked up her cup and set it down again without drinking.

Claire arrived then with our food. I’d forgotten that we’d ordered. She set the pancakes in front of me, then hesitated. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” she said to Ruby. “Eric let Mrs. Shepherd sleep in the back room when it was really cold. I guess she didn’t always have enough money to keep her house warm. Maybe that’s why she was in the alley.” She reached around Ruby and gave Maggie her plate. “If you need anything, let me know.”

I slid the butter pats off the small plate they’d arrived on and replaced them with one of the pancakes and a few slices of orange; then I set the plate in front of Ruby. I waited until she speared a bite of fruit and put in her mouth before I picked up my own fork.

“You know she had a stroke,” Ruby said suddenly. “That’s why she fell. That’s why she was in that rehab center in Minneapolis.”

“Then maybe it was another stroke,” Maggie said. She lifted the lid of her little teapot and looked around for Claire.

“She hated that place,” Ruby said. “Maybe she left too soon.”

Maggie finally managed to catch Claire’s eye. She held up the teapot and the waitress nodded and reached for a carafe of water.

After she’d dropped another tea bag into Maggie’s pot and poured the hot water, I touched her arm. “Claire, could I have two large coffees to go, please?” I said.

“Sure. The usual?”

I shook my head. “No. Double cream, double sugar in one, and could you just add a creamer and a couple of packets of sugar on the side for the other?”

“Not a problem,” she said. “I’ll get them for you when you’re ready to leave so they’ll be hot.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Maggie leaned back in her chair. “Ruby,” she asked. “How did you get to be one of Agatha’s . . .” She hesitated.

“Projects?” Ruby asked.

“Well, I was going to say ‘kids,’ ” Maggie said. “But, yeah, I guess projects.”

“Roma said Agatha was the reason she became a vet,” I said.

“She’s the reason I’m an artist,” Ruby said. “She busted me for tagging—spray-painting graffiti on the side of the school.” She put down her fork. “I couldn’t run as fast as my so-called friends, and it turned out Agatha was pretty fast for what I considered an old lady.”

“She nabbed you.” Maggie said.

Ruby picked up a slice of grapefruit with her fingers and ate it. “By the scruff of my neck, literally. When I wouldn’t rat out the others, she said I could scrub the entire wall myself.” Her smile got a little bigger. “When I tried to argue the artistic value of tagging, she made me write a three-page essay explaining my reasoning. She used that and a painting I’d done to get me a place in a six-week summer art camp.”

“It sounds like she had a way of figuring out what people cared about,” I said.

“Yeah, she did,” Ruby said. “She had a way of looking right inside you, into places you didn’t show any other person. On the other hand, she could be stubborn. She made me scrub that wall until there wasn’t a dab of paint left.”

She ran a hand through her pink, spiked hair, and glanced at her watch. Then she turned to Maggie. “I have to open the store.” The artist’s cooperative both Maggie and Ruby were part of ran a store and gallery in the same building where Maggie taught tai chi.

“Why don’t you let me do that for you today?” Maggie said, setting down her cup.

Ruby studied her hands for a minute. “Thanks, but I’d rather do it. I’d rather be busy than keep thinking about what happened.”

Maggie nodded. “Okay, but why don’t I walk with you? I’m going that way anyway.”

I stood up. “I’m going to get my coffee,” I said. I gestured at the table. “And I’ve got this.”

“You sure?” Maggie said, reaching for her coat.

“Uh-huh. I’ll be right back.” The café was beginning to fill up. As I stood at the counter, waiting for Claire, I overheard conversations around me. The news about Agatha was already spreading.

I paid for breakfast and collected my two cups of coffee. Claire had put a couple of sugar packets, a creamer, and a stir stick into a little waxed-paper bag and rolled down the top. She handed me everything. There was a P on one of the lids.

“That one is just coffee,” she said. “P for ‘plain.’ ”

I thanked her and walked back to the table. Maggie held the cups while I shrugged into my coat and pulled on my hat and mittens. After I slid the strap of my briefcase over my head, she gave me both coffees. Their warmth seeped into my fingers.

As we stepped outside a man cut across the street, dodging cars. “Ruby,” he called. She turned in his direction and her face lit up. When he reached us, he put an arm around Ruby and gave her a quick hug. This has to be the new boyfriend, I thought, which Ruby confirmed when she turned back to us.

“Kathleen, this is Justin,” she said.

“You’re the librarian,” he said.

I nodded. “I am.”

He stuffed the knitted hat he was holding into his pocket and offered his hand, and I held up the two coffee cups to show I couldn’t shake his.

He gave me an easy smile and said, “Nice to meet you.”

He was about average height, with longish dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak and angular features. He smelled like hair gel.

“You remember Maggie,” Ruby said.

Justin turned to Maggie. “I do,” he said. “Hi, Maggie.”

“Hi,” she said.

“I’m so glad I caught you,” he said. “I found those lights you were looking for.”

He patted the black nylon bag on his hip. He had a couple of elastics around one wrist and a silver skull bracelet on the other.

Ruby pressed a hand to her head. “I forgot all about them. They’re for Maggie.”

He opened the flap of his carryall and handed Maggie a plastic bag.

“Thanks,” she said.

Ruby glanced down the street and gave an involuntary shiver.

Justin followed her gaze. “What’s going on down there?” he asked.

Ruby closed her eyes for a second and took a couple of deep breaths. “It’s . . . it’s . . . Remember I introduced you to Agatha Shepherd?”

Justin nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

“She’s, uh, dead,” Ruby said.

“Hey, I’m so sorry.” He caught one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. Then he looked from me to Maggie. “What happened?”

Maggie shrugged. “Stroke, maybe. She was old.”

Ruby swallowed hard. “I was cutting through the alley, and she was lying . . .” She didn’t finish.

Justin folded her into a hug. “That’s horrible. What can I do?”

Ruby broke out of the embrace and pushed stray bits of hair out of her face.

“Nothing really,” she said. “I’m . . . all right.”

The coffee was going to get cold if I stood there any longer. “Guys, I’d better get going,” I said.

Ruby turned to me and touched my arm. “Thank you, Kathleen,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled at Justin. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you, too,” he said.

I caught Maggie’s eye. “I’ll see you at class tonight.”

She nodded.

I started down the sidewalk while the others headed in the opposite direction, toward the artists’ co-op. Officer Craig was standing at the mouth of the alley, which was already taped off and partly blocked with a couple of town sawhorses. There were a few people hanging around watching, but not that many. I eased my way over to the young police officer and handed him the coffee cup and the little bag of sugar and cream. “I thought you might be getting cold,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cup.

“There’s cream and sugar in the bag.” I held out the other cup. “Would you give this to Detective Gordon, please?”

There was a brief flash of surprise on his face, but it quickly disappeared. “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“Stay warm,” I said. It was what everyone said in Mayville Heights in the winter.

I skirted out around the police van, still angled near the curb, and took the opportunity to have a look down the alley. I couldn’t see much, just Marcus and a couple of other people standing over Agatha Shepherd’s body, which was still lying on the snowy ground. A shiver crept up the back of my neck. Maggie and Ruby seemed convinced that the old woman had had a second stroke. I hadn’t wanted to upset Ruby by disagreeing.

I’d seen blood on Agatha’s coat and on the pavement. And her arm was twisted at an unnatural angle.

I didn’t know what had happened to her, but I was pretty sure it had been violent.