Sleight Of Paw

18

I dropped into the closest chair, trying to make sense out of something that wasn’t making any sense at all.

Agatha had been carrying around an old brown envelope. That envelope had disappeared just before or just after her death. Eric claimed he knew nothing about it.

Except Hercules had found a piece of the same kind of envelope in Eric’s office. The same kind of envelope, or a piece of the envelope Agatha had been carrying around?

No matter what Eric said, I was certain of one thing: Whatever had been inside that envelope was important. Important enough that Eric would lie and Old Harry would stay silent.

Hercules poked his head out from under the desk. “Come on out,” I said. “I’m not mad.” I put the remaining slice of bacon and the rest of the egg on the floor on the waxed-paper sandwich wrapper. I kept the English muffin for myself.

So now what? I didn’t know. What I did know was that I knew very little about Agatha Shepherd. Maybe if I learned more about the woman, I’d be able to figure out what secret she’d been holding on to so tightly.

I looked at my watch. I had just enough time to get Hercules home and come back. I wasn’t looked forward to another trip up and down the hill.

I swallowed the last of my coffee. “Come on, Fuzz Face,” I said. I picked up the cat and popped him in the bag yet again. I fished the cinnamon roll I’d gotten for Owen out of the paper take-out bag.

I was getting good at dressing for the cold. We were out on the sidewalk in less than five minutes. As I headed to the corner, the strap of the messenger bag securely across my body, I thought for maybe the hundredth time this winter that I really needed a car. Hiking all over the place in a heavy parka and boots was wearing me out.

As I started up Mountain Road, Harry Taylor’s truck pulled up beside me. Harry leaned over and pointed at the empty seat beside him. I couldn’t help wondering if his driving by again was planned or a coincidence. I decided I didn’t care. It was cold. I nodded.

“What are you doing out so early?” he asked as I got in.

“I was at Ruby’s with Rebecca,” I said, as Harry pulled away from the curb.

“I heard she was arrested,” he said, his eyes straight ahead.

“She didn’t kill Agatha.” I was starting to sound like a broken record—or should that be CD? “I’m afraid the police will stop looking for the person who really did, though.”

“Do you think the old man knows something?” Harry asked.

I was surprised by his bluntness, so I chose my words carefully. “I think he might.”

Harry glanced over at me. “Like what?”

I told him about the envelope and how his father and Agatha seemed to have had words about whatever was in it. I felt bad about essentially telling on Harry Senior, but I felt worse about Ruby being in custody. “The envelope’s missing,” I said. “That’s way too much of a coincidence for me.”

Harry pulled into my driveway and put the truck in park. “You want me to ask Dad? I can’t promise you he’ll tell me anything.”

“Do you think he’d talk to me?” I asked. If Harry Senior understood he might be able to help Ruby, maybe he’d tell me what he’d argued about with Agatha. Maybe it would help. It was worth asking.

“I think he’s more likely to talk to you than me. How about coming out tonight after supper?”

I nodded. “All right.”

“I’ll come get you about seven,” he said.

I thanked him, picked up my bag and got out of the truck. As soon as we were in the house I let Hercules out. He shook himself and went for a drink. Owen appeared from somewhere. I gave him two pieces of the cinnamon roll. He sniffed them carefully.

“I’ll tell you everything tonight,” I said. “Or ask your brother.”

Quickly I changed my clothes, fixed my hair and touched up my makeup. I tossed some of the granola bars I’d made and an apple into my briefcase and headed back down to the library, grateful that Mayville Heights was small and the library was downhill.

I was almost at the bottom when I noticed Roma’s SUV up ahead at the intersection. I waved my arms to get her attention and half ran, half skidded down the sidewalk. She caught sight of me and waited. Luckily there was no one behind her.

She stuck her head out the driver’s window. “Hi, Kathleen. Were you looking for me or just practicing semaphore with your bag?”

“Very funny,” I said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” she said. “Get in.”

I climbed into the SUV and fastened the seat belt. Roma looked both ways and headed down the street. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Remember when we saw Agatha at Eric’s?”

“Yes.”

“She was carrying an envelope.”

Roma frowned. “Yeah,” she said, slowly, “brown. Maybe an old one from the school.”

I nodded.

“Is that important?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. It’s disappeared and I don’t have a clue what was in it. She argued with more than one person about that envelope.”

“Maybe the police have it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You think it could help Ruby?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How can I help?” she asked, as we turned toward the library.

“I need to know more about Agatha,” I said. “Maybe it’ll help me figure out what was so important to her that she was carrying it around everywhere in that old envelope.”

“Any coffee at the library?”

“There can be.” I held up the bag. “And I have granola bars.”

Roma looked at her watch. “I have about a half hour,” she said.

Mary and Abigail arrived as Roma turned into the library parking lot. I made coffee, filling a cup for Roma and one for myself, and leaving the rest for the other women. Roma and I settled in the two chairs facing my desk.

“So, what you want to know?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly.”

“You know Agatha was divorced when David was young.”

I nodded.

“She was a teacher before she was married, but she hadn’t taught in years.” Roma reached for one of the granola bars and took a bite. “Oh, those are good,” she said, her mouth full of oatmeal and chocolate chips. “She went back to school, got her degree, came back here and eventually became the principal of the junior high. She had no other family, no help. I don’t how she did it.”

“What was she like as a person?”

Roma considered the question for a minute. “She had high standards for everyone, but no more than for herself. She expected a lot, but she gave a lot, too. I told you that she took that time to go work with underprivileged kids.” She set her cup on my desk. “Kathleen, what you looking for? I can tell you Agatha was a good mother and a great teacher, but I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

I fingered the seam along the arm of the imitationleather chair. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, really,” I said. “Something I can use to help Ruby. The only thing I have to go on is an old report-card envelope. And now it’s disappeared.”

Roma picked up her cup again and took a long drink. I could see she was weighing her words before she spoke, so I waited without saying anything. She leaned forward in the chair. “Kathleen, one thing I can tell you about Agatha is that she was an extremely private person. She didn’t share anything of herself with people. I’m sorry, but I just don’t think that envelope is the key to who killed her. I think you’ll find out it would’ve been meaningless to anyone but her. It could’ve been papers from the rehab center. It could’ve been something she saw in the newspaper.” She reached over and broke off half of one of the remaining granola bars. “Have you talked to any of the people you saw arguing with her?”

“I talked to Eric,” I said with a shrug.

“What did he say?”

“That he wasn’t arguing with Agatha and he didn’t know what was in the envelope.”

“I’m sorry,” Roma said. “I think you’re looking in the wrong place.” She stood up, brushing crumbs off her jeans. “I think the whole thing’s going to turn out to be a horrible accident.”

What could I say? That I was positive the envelope did matter because Hercules had found part of it in Eric’s office? “Thanks,” I said.

“We’ll figure out a way to help Ruby.”

My phone rang then.

“Go ahead,” Roma said. “I need to get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow night.”

I got the phone the fourth ring. It was Maggie.

“I just wanted to let you know that Ruby is out on bail,” she said.

I sank onto my desk chair. “I’m so glad to hear that.” I felt some of the tension drain out of my body.

“We’re going to have a late lunch here at the studio. Could you come? Ruby wants to thank you in person for calling Everett.”

I quickly ran over the staffing schedule in my head. I was fairly sure I could take a late lunch.

“I think I can come,” I said. We agreed on one thirty and I hung up, swinging around in my chair to look out the window at the clouds, low and heavy and probably full of snow.

I’d talked to Eric about Agatha. I was going to see Old Harry tonight.

It was time to talk to third to the third person I’d seen arguing with Agatha.

Ruby.