by Sofie Kelly
I pulled into the parking lot and when I got out of the truck a sleek silver Mercedes pulled in beside me. Elias Braeden was behind the wheel. He got out and came around the back of the car. “Kathleen, could I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.
“Were you following me?” I said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need to talk.”
“What about?” I said. I was careful to keep some distance between us.
“Leo Janes.”
I nodded. “All right.” It was drizzling lightly, not enough to be called a shower, just enough to be annoying.
“Could we go inside?” Elias said. He was wearing a gray trench coat over dark pants. I had on my purple quilted jacket and a black-and-white scarf at my neck. Neither one of us would be cold staying outside.
“I’m good here,” I said. I put one hand on the side of the truck. I didn’t think Elias was stupid enough to try anything, but I had a couple of hockey sticks in the bed of the truck from a game of driveway hockey with Marcus. Maybe I couldn’t swing a twenty-pound bag of potatoes at Elias’s head, but I could swing a hockey stick if I had to.
“The woman you were with in the café on Friday. She told you she saw me with Leo.” He stood with his feet apart, hands in his pockets.
“You lied to me,” I said.
“No, I didn’t. I told you I didn’t see Leo the day he died. I didn’t. I went to see him the day before, not to threaten him but to offer him a security job. He turned me down.”
“Can you prove this?”
Elias nodded. “Leo turned me down but he suggested I hire one of his former grad students. I didn’t tell you that because we were still negotiating her contract, but now that it’s signed you and the police are welcome to talk to her. She’ll confirm that Leo called her about my offer.” He held out a piece of paper. “This is her name and her contact information.”
I put the piece of paper in my pocket. “Thank you,” I said. I hesitated. “I apologize for thinking the worst of you.”
He smiled. “No apology necessary. I admire your loyalty and your tenacity. If you ever want to make a career change, please call me.” He got back in his car and pulled out of the lot.
I headed for the front entrance. It seemed pretty clear that Elias wasn’t Leo’s killer. Was Marcus wrong about Celia Hunter, I wondered? Was I right? I didn’t know what to think. I was glad for the distraction working on the books would give me.
Several of the repairs were minor and I breezed quickly through the first six books. I realized that the seventh was going to need Abigail’s expertise. She’d taken a course on conservation and had been able to work on several of the old books in our reference section. That was where this book had come from. The stitching had come loose and several pages had fallen out. One page in particular seemed to have been sticking out beyond the book cover, unprotected by it, for some time. The edge was worn in several places and the paper was faded a lighter color about a quarter of an inch in from the edge the entire length of the page. I’d seen another page faded and damaged in the same way just recently. I should put that book aside for Abigail as well, I thought. I looked through the other books in the pile but I couldn’t find it. Maybe Susan or Mary would know? I’d ask them both on Monday. Mia, too.
Mia.
Simon.
That was all it took to make the connection. The page I was remembering wasn’t from a book, it was the second page of the letter Celia Hunter had shared with Simon. The outside edge of the paper had been faded and worn in exactly the same way as the book page in front of me. In the case of the book, the page had been loose and a small part of the edge had extended beyond the protection of the cover. So how had the second sheet of pink stationery gotten worn and faded?
I thought about it for a moment. Both sides of the envelope were worn almost through at the folds. If the two pages of the letter hadn’t been folded evenly then that edge of the second page would have been exposed to changes in temperature and humidity inside that dusty wall, unprotected by the first page of the letter and by the envelope worn thin along the crease. But why didn’t the first page of the letter show the same wear on the opposite edge of the page where that edge would have been exposed by an uneven fold of the pages?
Because there was a middle page, I realized. That wasn’t a two-page letter, it was a three-page letter. Celia had shown Simon his mother’s letter, she just hadn’t shown him all of it.
I didn’t stop to think whether it was a good idea or a bad idea; I closed up the workroom, got my purse and my jacket from my office and headed for the St. James Hotel to find Celia Hunter.
Sunday afternoons during the fall the St. James serves high tea in their dining room. That was where I found Celia. She was sitting at a table for two and I walked across the room as though I was supposed to be joining her, pulled out the second chair and sat down. She looked cool and elegant in a long purple heather sweater and black trousers.
“Hello, Celia,” I said.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Since she had skipped the social niceties and gotten right to the point, so did I. “I want to know what it says on the page of Meredith’s letter that you didn’t show us.”
The color drained from her face but it was the only sign that she was rattled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stiffly.
I leaned back in my seat, crossing one leg over the other to fake a confidence I didn’t exactly feel. I had no way to make her show me the missing page of the letter.
At that moment a waiter made his way across to us. “Ms. Paulson, hi,” he said as he came level with the table.
“Hello, Levi,” I said, smiling at the teen. He was a voracious reader, in the library at least once and often twice a week.
“I’ll bring you a cup and a fresh pot,” he said, smiling back at me.
“Thank you,” I said.
Celia was far too polite to protest that I wasn’t her guest. Levi moved to a nearby sideboard and returned with a larger pot of tea, wrapped in an old-fashioned quilted cozy, and a china cup and saucer. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said.
I poured myself a cup of tea and added a little milk and two lumps of sugar. My mouth was dry and getting the tea ready bought me a little more time to figure out what I was going to say next. I took a sip and looked at Celia across the table. “The letter you received from Meredith had three pages, not two. For some reason you didn’t want Simon—or, I’m guessing, Leo—to see what was written on the middle page.”
“You have a very . . . fanciful imagination, Kathleen,” she said.
I may have rattled her a little when I’d first appeared at the table, but she seemed completely composed now. “What I don’t understand is if there’s something that you feel you need to hide in that letter then why show it to Leo or Simon at all?”
“And as I already said, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I studied her for a moment, hoping I seemed as unconcerned as she did, when I realized she wasn’t quite as calm as she seemed at first glance. Her hands were folded in her lap, left over right, and I noticed she was fingering something in her right hand. I caught a flash of something round and purple and suddenly a lot of things began to make sense.
“You’re working the twelve steps,” I said.
Something shifted in Celia’s face. She reached up and set the purple nine-month AA coin she had been fingering on the table. “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to make amends with Leo.”
I remembered what Oren had told me. “Because you helped break up his marriage.”
Wordlessly, she nodded.
“But you didn’t tell Leo or Simon the truth.”
Celia took a deep breath and let it out. “Kathleen, do you know the twelve steps?”
“Yes,” I sa
id. Susan’s husband, Eric, was in AA.
“Then you know that it’s important to make amends but not if that will hurt the person or someone else.” She picked up the purple token and set it down again. “I’ve been sober for ten months,” she said. “I know what a cliché it is, but I really am a different person—a better person. What I did to Leo and Simon was unforgivable and forgiveness wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted them both to know that Meredith wouldn’t have left them if it hadn’t been for me. If I hadn’t told Victor what to say to win her over.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again I could see regret and shame in them. “I was all set to tell Leo the truth and let him read the letter from Meredith. Yes, there’s another page. And then he told me that Victor was here and that he’s sick.”
I understood then. “And you knew if you told Leo the truth that any chance of the two of them reconciling would be gone.”
She nodded. “He’s sick, Kathleen. He could die. I couldn’t do it. No matter what he did—what we did—I couldn’t take away his chance to have a relationship with the only family he has left.”
“But you’d already told Leo about the letter.”
“Yes.” She studied the purple token for a moment and set it on the table once more. “Then I realized I could just remove the middle page. The letter still made sense.”
“Why did you push to show it to Simon?”
“A reporter who is doing an article about the mail that was found contacted me. I made the mistake of telling her that I had received a letter from an old friend. I was afraid Simon would put two and two together and figure out the friend was his mother. This way I could . . . control what he—what everyone—found out.” She looked past me for a moment and then her gaze met mine again. “And because, selfishly, it made me feel a little better.”
“What’s on the missing page?” I asked.
She reached for her purse tucked next to her hip in the upholstered chair, removed the pink envelope and handed it across the table to me. I took out the three sheets of paper and read the letter, the whole letter, from the beginning.
Dear Celia,
I hope you don’t throw this letter away as soon as you see it’s from me. You probably hate me for what I’ve done, but you couldn’t hate me more than I hate myself. Victor and Leo may look the same but they’re very different men. I thought Victor was exciting, and he seemed to know what I was thinking in a way Leo didn’t, as if he could see into my heart somehow. But I was wrong. I’ve learned that Victor is selfish, manipulative and cruel. He doesn’t really care about me. He doesn’t love me. I think the only reason he showed any interest in me at all was to hurt Leo. He’s so jealous of his brother and I have proof of that now. I miss Simon so much. Victor is going out of town in a couple of weeks. I’ll be able to leave then. I was a childish fool. I don’t know if Leo will ever forgive me but I have to find out.
I love him. I will see you soon.
Love, Merry
I set the pages down on the cream tablecloth. I had to swallow down the lump in the back of my throat. “She was coming home to them.”
Celia nodded. “And I know I have to let Simon read this. Not telling him leaves him with more pain than telling will cause Victor.”
“I think so,” I said. I put the pages back in the envelope and handed it back to her. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
“I should have told it from the beginning,” she said.
“You were doing what you thought was right,” I told her. “I can’t fault you for that. I don’t think anyone can. I do have one more question, though. Did you know Leo also received a piece of that lost mail?”
Celia shook her head. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
Nothing in her face or her body language made me think she wasn’t telling the truth. “Was it from Meredith?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Can you think of any reason she might have sent him a key?”
A frown formed between her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “A key?”
I nodded.
“No. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know,” I said. I reached into my bag, pulled out a pen and a small notepad and wrote down my cell phone number. “If you think of anything, anything, please call me.”
“I will,” she said. “And I promise you I’ll call Simon and let him read the letter.”
“He’s in Minneapolis with his daughter for a couple of days,” I said. “They’ll be back Tuesday. That’s soon enough.” I got up and made my way across the room.
Levi was at another table. I waited by the door and when he turned I raised a hand. He came right over to me. I gave him my credit card and paid for our tea with a generous tip. After what I’d learned from Celia it seemed the least I could do.
It was still raining when I stepped outside. I ran through the rain back to the truck, sliding onto the front seat, shaking the water off my hair. Then I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Marcus would be in Red Wing until late. There was nothing he could do with what I’d learned from Celia. At least not right now. I put my phone away.
I was glad Simon and Mia were in Minneapolis for a couple of days. Because as soon as Simon read that letter he was going to suspect what I was starting to strongly suspect—that Victor Janes had killed his own brother.
chapter 16
I called Marcus as soon as I got home. It went to voice mail but he called me back about half an hour later. I gave him the information I’d gotten from Elias and I told him about the missing page of the letter.
He stayed silent until I finished talking. “I agree that it doesn’t make Victor Janes look good,” he said.
“What’s the but?” I asked, walking out into the porch with the phone.
“It doesn’t change the fact that he has an alibi. And I saw him write his name in the guest book at Gunnerson’s. He’s right-handed. Whoever killed Leo Janes was left-handed, remember?”
“So what are you thinking?” I asked as I dropped down onto the bench under the porch window. “Do you think he hired someone to kill Leo?”
Marcus made an exasperated sound on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from the man until we figure this out.”
“That’s not a problem,” I said. Victor Janes had made me uncomfortable before I began to suspect he’d been involved in his brother’s death. I wanted to be around him now even less.
Roma called after supper to say they’d managed to save all of the goats and both the driver and his passenger had walked away from the accident with nothing more than a few bruises. “I had planned to check Owen’s ear when I came for dinner,” she said. “Since I didn’t get there do you think you could bring him into the clinic after you finish tomorrow? I’m sure he’s fine, but I’d just like to take one more look.”
“I can do that,” I said. We settled on a time and I said good night.
• • •
The next morning was busy. Maggie dropped off the information for the board about her auction idea, two boxes of new books were delivered, and a routine software update made all the public-access computers shut down at once.
I’d just gotten the computers up and running again when Abigail waved from the front desk to catch my attention. “Do you have a minute to talk to Lita?” she asked.
I nodded. “Cross everything,” I said, gesturing at the computer where I was sitting. “I think I have things working again.”
Abigail grinned. “You have the magical touch. The only thing I know to do is whack the side of the monitor with my hand.”
I grinned back at her. “Hey, that’s my Plan B.” I walked over to the desk and reached for the phone. “Hi, Lita,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Kathleen,” she said. “I just
have a quick question for you about Reading Buddies.”
“Sure, what is it?” She was looking at an invoice and luckily her question was easily answered.
“Thank you. I wish every phone call this morning had worked out so well.”
“Rough Monday?” I said.
“You’re the only person I’ve been able to actually get to talk to in person. It isn’t easy trying to change Everett’s schedule around.”
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“You didn’t hear about Rebecca?” she asked.
My heart began to pound and I put a hand down on the counter to steady myself. “No. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine,” Lita said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. She and Everett were at an auction on the weekend. Someone’s dog got loose and knocked her down. She sprained her knee. She’s probably going to have to be off it for a week.” She cleared her throat. “Everett is hovering.”
I struggled not to laugh. “You mean he’s driving her crazy.”
Lita did laugh. “Yes.”
“He can’t help it,” I said. “He may be driving her crazy but it’s because he’s crazy about her.”
“And Rebecca—”
“—is not the best patient,” I finished. “I’ll try to go see her tonight.”
“Your good deed for the week,” Lita said. “Thanks for the information, Kathleen.”
• • •
I took a shorter lunch break so I could leave a bit earlier at the end of the day. Hercules was sitting out in the porch when I got home. I sat down beside him. “How was your day?” I asked.
