Sleight Of Paw

12

I’d been up maybe fifteen minutes in the morning when the phone rang. There’s something about a phone ringing early or late that gives me a jolt.

It was Rebecca. “Morning, Kathleen. I hope it’s not too early to call. I saw your light on.”

“It’s not too early,” I said, relieved that it was Rebecca and she sounded just fine.

“Wonderful,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Everett and I were hoping you’d join us for breakfast, if you don’t have the plans or you haven’t eaten already.”

I looked around the room. Hercules was dozing in a square of sunshine by the door. Owen’s head was under the bed. “I don’t have any plans. When would you like me?”

“How about now?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I get my things on and walk around.” There was too much snow to cut through the backyard into Rebecca’s yard.

“Just walk up to the Justasons’,” Rebecca instructed. “Their boys made a path between our two streets.”

“All right,” I said. “See you soon.”

I hung up, looked down at the faded blue sweater I was wearing and decided I needed to change into something a little more presentable—not that Rebecca or Everett would care.

I pulled down my favorite black turtleneck from the closet shelf. Hercules looked up. “I’m going over to Rebecca’s,” I said.

He laid his head back on his paws. Owen had come out from under the bed at the sound of Rebecca’s name. He stood in front of me and meowed.

“No,” I said, fluffing my hair back into place. “You have to stay here.”

That got me another loud meow. I glared at him. Hercules opened one eye for a moment to look at us.

Owen followed me down the stairs. He headed straight for the closet where my messenger bag was hanging, sat down and stared at the door as though he could will it open.

“Give it up,” I said. “You’re not coming.”

He didn’t even come into the kitchen until I had my things on and my keys in my hand. He walked slowly, tail drooping. Owen was good at guilt trips.

“Look,” I said, feeling slightly silly because I was trying to coax a cat into a better mood. “I know you miss seeing Rebecca, but you can’t come. How would I explain showing up with you?”

I crouched down. “I’ll invite her over. I promise.” He twisted his head away when I tried to pet him. “And I’ll tell her you miss her.” Grudgingly he turned his head back and let me scratch the top. “I have to go,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll be back soon.”

I locked the door, pulled on my mittens and headed for the street. I’m crazy, I decided. I’ve been living alone too long. Then I remembered Agatha’s empty house, and talking to Owen and Hercules didn’t seem quite so bad. There were worse things than being the crazy cat lady.

I walked up to the Justasons’ house, two above mine. There was the path next to their driveway. It was only the width of a snow scoop, but that was enough. I was on Rebecca’s street in less than a minute.

Everett let me in the back door. He looked different in a gray sweater, and, surprisingly, jeans. “Hello, Kathleen. Come in,” he said.

Rebecca was at the stove, peeking at something in the oven. She smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“For your cooking? Always,” I said.

Everett took my coat and ushered me into the dining area off the kitchen. The sun was beaming through the windows. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Please.”

He gestured to a chair, reached for the coffeepot and poured me a cup.

I added milk and sugar to the blue stoneware mug.

Rebecca came out of the kitchen, carrying a pink glass bowl full of chopped fruit. She set it in the middle of the table.

“How can I help?” Everett asked.

She smiled at him. “Talk to Kathleen,” she said, bustling back into the kitchen.

He watched her go, the look on his face making it clear he was crazy about her. Everett had been in love with Rebecca when they were very young and all the time they spent apart hadn’t changed his feelings. He turned his attention to me.

“She’s glowing,” I said teasingly.

“What about me?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

“You have a twinkle, too.”

Rebecca came back with a plate piled high with her cinnamon-raisin waffles. The smell made my mouth water. “Don’t wait,” she told us. She made one more trip to the kitchen, returning with a glass casserole dish.

“This is a new recipe,” she warned. “So the two of you are my guinea pigs.”

“I have no worries, my dear,” Everett said, spooning fruit on his waffle.

I just nodded. My mouth was already full of waffle and fruit.

Breakfast was delicious, from Everett’s coffee to Rebecca’s experiment—a casserole of eggs, cheese, potato, onion and ham. The two of them kept me entertained with stories about past Winterfest celebrations.

With my plate clear and a second cup of coffee, the conversation turned to Agatha. “Could she have had as much as half a million dollars?” I asked Everett.

He ran his fingers over his beard. “Yes.”

That surprised me. “How?” I asked. “I know she was extremely thrifty, but half a million dollars on a teacher’s pension?”

“Agatha was very savvy,” Everett said. “She took an interest in business and finance at a time when, frankly, women were considered incapable of it.”

Across the table Rebecca nodded in agreement.

I leaned back in my seat. “I understand being frugal,” I said. “It’s how I grew up. But from what I saw at Agatha’s house, she’d gone beyond frugal.”

“And you assumed it was because she had very little money,” Rebecca said. “So did most people.”

“I was surprised she left all that money to someone she didn’t know,” Everett said. “Although”—he gave a slight shrug—“it is for a camp for troubled kids, and Agatha was a big believer in education being the way to solve most of our problems.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rebecca said.

“Why?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Out of all the young people Agatha helped—and there were a lot, believe me—she had a soft spot for Ruby.”

“I think Ruby felt the same way.”

“Ruby’s been seeing Justin Anders. He’s important to her and so is his project,” Rebecca said. “So I think Agatha probably did it for Ruby as much as anything.” She looked at Everett. “I’d do anything for Ami.”

Ami was Everett’s only grandchild and she was very close to Rebecca—always had been. Ami’s parents had died when she was a baby, and her grandmother, Everett’s wife, had passed away before Ami was born. Although Everett and Rebecca hadn’t been in each other’s lives, Rebecca, whom Ami loving referred to as Rebbie, had been part mother figure, part grandmother to Ami since she was a little girl.

Everett’s face softened, “I know you would,” he said. He shifted his gaze to me. “Kathleen, Agatha was demanding and stern, not at all a sentimental person, but she loved kids. She dedicated her life to helping them. It does make sense.”

I thought about the affection in Roma’s voice when she talked about Agatha. I thought about Eric feeding her, and even Harrison Taylor insisting on keeping his promise to her. I was letting my big-city suspiciousness get to me.

Everett stood to clear the table and I got up to help him. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re our guest.”

I looked at Rebecca. “Then let me help with the dishes.” I knew she didn’t have a dishwasher.

“Thank you, Kathleen,” she said. “But no. Everett will wash and I’ll dry.” She brushed off her hands, signifying that as far as she was concerned the subject was settled.

Rebecca studied my hair as I fastened my coat. “Your layers are growing out nicely.” Maybe we’ll trim it in another couple of weeks.”

I nodded. We’d been working on shaping my hair as it grew out ever since the summer.

“Come over and see me when you have time,” I said. “Owen and Hercules miss seeing you.”

“I miss seeing them.” She wrapped me in a hug. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“Owen loved his chicken,” I said, “and Hercules was in heaven with the sardines. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, giving me a last squeeze before she let me go.

Everett was already running water in Rebecca’s sink. I wondered what some of his business rivals would think to see him up to his elbows in soapsuds and wearing a flowered lavender apron.

“I’ll see you later in the week,” I said to Everett. He waved a soapy spoon at me in acknowledgment.

I walked back along the path between the two streets. As I unlocked the kitchen door, I could hear the phone ringing. Now, I knew in theory that I shouldn’t run for the phone. I knew if it was important the caller would leave a message, but a ringing phone was like a plate of iced brownies—not something I was going to leave alone.

I skidded over the kitchen floor and launched myself across the living room to grab the phone.

“Kathleen, I’m so glad you’re there.” It was Maggie.

I undid my jacket, pulling out one arm and then switching the receiver to my other hand to pull out the opposite arm. She didn’t sound right. “Mags, is something wrong?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes. The police arrested Ruby. They say she killed Agatha.”