Sleight Of Paw

2

“Go,” I said, pulling the hood of my parka tighter against my neck.

“We can wait,” Maggie said.

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. Go. Don’t keep Oren waiting. I just want to make sure Harry’s all right.”

Roma nodded and patted her coat pocket. “Call my cell if you need anything or you want me to come back and get you.”

“Thanks,” I said. I hunched into my jacket and headed down to where the old man was standing. It was a clear night, the moon a thin sliver in the inky blue-black sky. Harry turned as I got to him, the expression on his face not surprise, but more like What took you so long?, and I had the feeling that he’d known I was up the street and would walk down to him.

“Hello,” I said, pushing back my hood.

“You want to exchange pleasantries or go right to the part where you ask me what I’m doing out here when it’s cold enough to freeze the brass off a bald monkey?” he asked.

“It is cold,” I agreed. “What are you doing out here?”

“Without my keepers?”

“Without a ride.”

“Boys are at the auction,” Harry said, inclining his head in the direction of the riverbank. “There’s nothing of Cormac’s I want. I’ve got too much junk of my own. So I decided to get some air.”

I didn’t say anything, but my eyebrows disappeared up under my wool hat. A sudden gust of wind blew a swirl of snow down off the roof of the store we were standing in front of.

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug. “I like snow with my air,” he said.

“How do you feel about chocolate with your air?” I asked, offering my arm. “Eric has a pretty good chocolate pudding cake tonight.”

“I can be flexible,” he said, taking my arm with his gloved hand. “Why don’t you walk me up to the restaurant so I don’t get into any trouble?” He glanced behind him, but Agatha had disappeared.

“Harry, is everything all right?” I asked.

“Nothing to worry about.”

That didn’t really answer my question.

“How are your cats?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said as we made our way very slowly toward the café. “But Hercules doesn’t like the snow.”

“There are days I feel the same way,” he said. “Boys were after me to go south for a while, sit on a beach and have some fussy little drink with an umbrella stuck in the top. I said it’s February. In February you’re supposed to be wearing long johns, not some dinky swimsuit stuck up—” He caught himself and smiled. “Stuck up a palm tree.”

“That does sound . . . uncomfortable,” I said with a grin.

We’d made it to the door of the restaurant. “Thank you, Kathleen,” Harry said, letting go of my arm and dipping his head with old-fashioned gallantry. I half expected him to sweep off his hat with its pile earflaps and bow to me. “The boys will be along in a bit.”

“All right,” I said.

“You figuring on standing here until you see me go inside?”

“That’s pretty much my plan.” I stamped my feet on the sidewalk. “Sure is cold.”

He let out a snort of laughter. “I’m going, I’m going.” He waved away my offered hand and reached for the door. “Go catch up with your friends before you freeze something.”

“Good night, Harrison,” I said.

He gave me a dismissive wave as the door closed behind him.

I pulled up my hood again and started for the community center. Snow crunched under my boots and my breath hung in the air like some sort of smoke signal to lead me.

I looked back. There was no sign of anyone. I hoped that meant Harry really was inside Eric’s, waiting for his sons. On the other hand, I knew the old man was perfectly capable of doing exactly what he wanted the second I’d started walking.

Oren’s truck was next to Roma’s SUV in the lot at the community center. There was no sign of him, or Roma or Maggie or even Eddie, and there were definitely lights on inside. I tried the door. It was unlocked. Kicking snow off my boots, I went in.

The main auditorium was at the top of the stairs. I saw boots to the right of the door; Maggie’s Sorels, Roma’s pile-lined mukluks with their duct-tape patch, and big black boots that had to belong to Oren. I couldn’t help grinning as I pulled off my own boots. That was Maggie, making everyone take off their outside footwear to keep the floor clean, when in a couple of days most of Mayville Heights would be clomping around inside.

Her display was at the far end of the auditorium, along with a larger exhibit of old photographs. She stood in front of the wall, arms crossed, head cocked to one side. Roma stood beside her. Eddie was on the floor, head slumped forward as though he’d just been checked especially hard into the boards. I looked around, but didn’t see Oren anywhere.

Roma caught sight of me and walked over to meet me. I gestured at the wall.

“What is this? The history of Winterfest?” Maggie had been very closemouthed about the project. She’d been sorting through old photos for months.

“Close,” she said. “History of sports in Mayville.” She gave me a searching look. “Harry okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Apparently he was at the auction and got antsy. He’s meeting the boys at Eric’s.”

Roma shook her head. “He’s a stubborn old buzzard,” she said.

“I know.” I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Had the old man stayed at Eric’s or was he back outside?

“Is Harry okay?” Maggie asked as we joined her.

“He’s at Eric’s, probably halfway through a bowl of that chocolate pudding cake, waiting for the guys to finish at the auction.” I gestured at the wall. “Mags, this is amazing.”

Many of the pictures were black-and-white. They were grouped together with Maggie’s unique perspective. Some of them had been hand tinted, and I was pretty sure the backgrounds were all Maggie’s handmade paper.

The locker room, where Eddie was eventually going to be sitting on a wooden bench, looked as real as any locker room I’d ever been in.

“The lights are wrong,” Maggie said.

“What’s wrong with them?” I asked.

She pointed. “One should be focused on that part of the display there, and I was supposed to have two lights here in the locker room and the overall quality is just wrong.” She walked over to the wall and glared up at a ceiling fixture.

“Oren went to see if he could find any bulbs in the storeroom,” Roma whispered.

It was warm in the community center. I peeled off my coat, setting it on the floor along with Maggie and Roma’s things.

Across the room the door to the stairs opened and Mary and Abigail came in, both carrying hangers covered with big orange plastic garbage bags.

I walked over to them. Both women worked at the library for me. Abigail was the earth-mother writer. She’d grown up with five older brothers, so she was confident and unflappable. Mary looked like every stereotype of a grandmother, and was. She was also a championship kickboxer. I’d seen her in competition. First time someone fought with her, they inevitably underestimated her gray hair and grandmotherly look. No one did that twice.

“Hey, Kathleen, what are you doing here?” Abigail asked.

“Helping Maggie finish the display,” I said.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Mary said, her apple-dumpling cheeks bright red from the cold.

I gestured to the hangers. “What are you two doing here?”

“We brought the tablecloths. We thought we’d get the tables set up for Friday night,” Abigail said. “We’re going to be in the kitchen tomorrow night, doing the pies.”

“I didn’t want to leave everything till the last minute.” Mary looked around. “Is Thorsten here? I don’t see any tables.”

I shook my head. “No, he’s not. But Oren’s around.”

“Even better,” Mary said. She turned to Abigail. “Let’s get this stuff to the kitchen and finish unloading the car. Then we’ll get Oren to open up the storage room so we can get the tables out.” She started for the kitchen. “See you later, Kathleen.”

“I’ll tell Oren you’re looking for him,” I said. I walked back to Maggie. She had Eddie under the arms, and Roma had his feet. They were trying to get him up on to the locker-room bench, but it wasn’t going very well because Maggie was paying more attention to the display than to where she was going with the dummy.

“Maggie!” Roma said sharply. “You almost knocked down that picture with Eddie’s right arm.”

Maggie turned at the sound of Roma’s voice. Too fast, it turned out. Eddie’s other arm came swinging up, carried by momentum, and smacked Maggie on the head. Her hand automatically went to the spot. “Ow!” She yelled.

Eddie’s upper body hit the tile floor. The shift in weight caught Roma off balance. She went down hard on her backside, Eddie’s legs bowing out on either side of her. I scrambled over to them. It probably would’ve been better if I hadn’t laughed.

Maggie rubbed the side of her head just above her ear.

“Are you okay?” I said.

“I’m all right.” She looked past me at Eddie splayed on the floor. “Is he all right?”

Roma waved a hand. “I’m okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“All Eddie’s parts seem to be attached, but I think there might be a two-minute penalty for knocking Roma over,” I said. “Unnecessary roughness.”

I climbed over the dummy and offered a hand to Roma. “You all right?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Luckily I landed on the part with all the padding.”

Maggie was down on her hands and knees, checking Eddie carefully.

“Anything break?” I asked.

She sat back on her heels. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But one of the shin pads shifted.”

“Not a problem,” Roma said. She walked over to our coats, fished in the pocket of her parka and tossed a roll of duct tape to Maggie.

“You have a roll of duct tape in your pocket, too?” I said.

Roma grinned. “I told you. Duct tape and chocolate will fix pretty much any problem.”

Maggie tore off a couple of pieces of tape and reached up under the dummy’s sock. After a minute she smoothed it down and wiggled the leg. “Better,” she said. She handed me the roll and smiled at Roma. “Thanks.”

I slipped the tape on my arm like a fat bracelet. “Okay, why don’t I grab his shoulders?” I said. “Roma, you take his feet, and, Mags, you direct us.”

I slid my arms around Eddie, holding him in a kind of backward bear hug. With Maggie directing us and watching for swinging arms, we managed to get Eddie in place on the bench. Roma kneeled on the floor, keeping him steady while Maggie fastened Eddie into position. I glanced behind me. I could see Mary and Abigail moving around in the kitchen. The door to the hall swung open and Oren started across the floor toward us.

He smiled when he saw me. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Oren,” I said. “Thanks for coming to let us in.”

He gave a slight shrug. “Thorsten probably just got caught up in the auction and lost track of time. Have you seen Maggie’s pictures?”

“Not yet.”

“Would you like to see photograph of my father?” he asked shyly.

“Yes,” I said. “Where is he?”

We walked over to the wall. Oren scanned the panels, then pointed to a scrum of young men gathered by the edge of the frozen river, probably for a pickup game of hockey. “That’s him on the left.”

I could see the resemblance. Oren’s father had the same fair hair and rangy build. Oren himself always made me think of Clint Eastwood. “You look alike,” I said.

“Everyone says that.”

“Where was the picture taken?”

“You know where the marina is?” he said. “Back then they put out a wooden dock in the summer. In the winter the kids—well, the boys,” he corrected himself, “played hockey. It was long before they made it deeper for the boats, so the ice froze pretty solid.”

I studied the boy in the center of the picture. Like the others, his expression was serious, but there was confidence on his face. I tried to picture time adding lines around the mouth and eyes. I shifted back to Oren’s face. “Is that Harrison Taylor?”

Oren nodded.

“I didn’t know Harry played hockey.”

“Good enough to be invited to the Black Hawks training camp. He helped coach at the high school and junior high.”

That was how Harry knew Agatha, I realized, although in a place as small as Mayville everyone pretty much knew everyone else, anyway.

“These photographs are wonderful,” I said to Oren. “Are there any of you?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t very athletic.”

Oren had been a musical prodigy. He probably hadn’t had much chance to play hockey or softball or anything like that.

I remembered then that Mary and Abigail had wanted to get out the tables.

“Oren, I forgot,” I said. “Mary and Abigail are in the kitchen. Could you let them into the storage room so they could set up the tables?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

He took a couple of steps toward Maggie and Roma. “Maggie, are you all set?” he asked.

Maggie had her foot up on the edge of the bench, knee jammed against Eddie’s back to keep him upright. “I am, Oren,” she said. “Thank you for coming down here. I’m sorry I had to bother you.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning if you need to get in to do anything.” He smiled at me. “It was good to see you, Kathleen.”

It was my opening. “Oren,” I began slowly.

He turned to face me. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I said.

His smile got a little bigger and he nodded.

“I haven’t asked you anything.”

“You were going to ask if I’d let you put my father’s sculptures on display for the library’s centennial celebrations.”

“How did you know?”

“When you came out to look at the plan for the gazebo for the library, I think you spent more time looking at the sculptures than the plans.”

“People should see his work, Oren,” I said.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m going to need to take some measurements at the loading dock as soon as Winterfest is over. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” I wanted to jump up and down, but I settled for beaming at him.

“I’ll be in to the library as soon as Winterfest is over.”

I nodded, and he headed for the kitchen.

Roma was still sitting on the floor, one hand on Eddie’s thigh, the other on his hip. She looked like a groupie sitting adoringly at the feet of her hockey hero. Maggie was standing on the bench, straddling Eddie.

“What can I do to help?” I asked.

“Could you find me a pair of pliers? I think they’re in that box.” Maggie pointed at one of the cartons that had been in the back of Roma’s SUV.

After I’d handed the pliers to her I wrapped my arms around Eddie to keep him steady so Maggie could have both her hands free. From a distance I probably looked like a groupie, too.

“Why does Eddie smell like Christmas dinner?” I asked.

Roma frowned and pressed her face against Eddie’s chest for a moment. “Kathleen’s right. Eddie smells like stuffing.”

Maggie was bending a piece of wire with the pliers. “It’s sage.”

“And why does Eddie smell like sage?” Roma asked.

“It helps to keep negative energy away from the project.”

Maggie was kind of New Agey about some things. She taught tai chi, believed in the power of karma and had been learning about herbal medicine from my neighbor Rebecca since last summer.

“There,” she said, jumping down off the bench and taking a step backward. “Kathleen, you let go first.”

I slid my arms free and stood up. Eddie stayed in place.

“Okay, Roma,” Maggie said.

Roma stood up, too. Nothing moved. Maggie smiled with satisfaction and started gathering boxes.

“So, will you two be at the Winterfest supper Friday night?” Roma said.

Maggie glanced at me.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“Don’t what?” Roma asked.

“Maggie has the insane idea that I should take a date to the supper,” I said.

“A date. Who?”

“Marcus Gordon,” I said. Marcus was a police detective and I’d gotten to know him after I’d stumbled upon a dead body last summer. Not my favorite way to meet new people.

“What’s wrong with Marcus?” Roma asked.

“He likes you,” Maggie interjected.

I crossed my arms and glared at her. “He thought I killed Gregor Easton.”

“You weren’t really a suspect,” Maggie said. “He didn’t arrest you.”

“That was really romantic of him,” I said dryly. I looked at Roma. “Marcus Gordon is not my type.” Even though he was tall, good-looking and liked cats.

“I’m not saying marry him,” Maggie said. “Or kiss him, or even hold his hand. I’m just saying get to know the man.”

She’d been saying that for months.

“Who knows? You might like him.”

“Who knows?” I mimicked her voice. “Pigs might fly.” Roma looked at me and burst out laughing. Maggie followed her eyes and started to shake with the giggles. I tipped my head back slowly because there was no way. No way.

Overhead, a fat pink pig floated in the air just above me.