by Sofie Kelly
I picked him up. “You look like a million bucks,” I assured him, smoothing the fur on the top of his head. “You look like a cat version of Brad Pitt.”
Maggie smiled when I opened the door but I saw at once that she was tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and tiny frown lines on her forehead. “Hey Fuzz Face,” she said to Owen. He immediately started to purr. Maggie let out a long sigh and leaned in toward the cat. “Owen, you are the only male in any species that I like right now,” she said. That just made him purr louder.
She kicked off her boots, I took her jacket and she padded behind me into the kitchen. I set Owen down and hung up her jacket. Maggie dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and Owen took up his position of adoration at her feet.
“Long afternoon?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
“Very,” she said. “Ruby told me about Jaeger Merrill really being Christian Ellis. How bizarre is that?”
“Ruby kept saying she remembered him, but I thought they’d just been in a class together or maybe they’d met at an exhibition.”
Maggie leaned an elbow on the table and propped her head on her hand. “I don’t see why he felt he needed to lie,” she said.
I shrugged. “Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t want people to know what he’d done. Would you want to tell other artists that you’d been a forger?”
She made a face. “Good point. On the other hand, did Jaeger—I’m sorry, in my mind he’s Jaeger Merrill—strike you as the kind of person who cared what people thought?”
“No,” I said slowly. “Ruby asked me the same thing, but I didn’t really know him.”
“I guess none of us did,” Maggie said. She looked around the kitchen, frowning. “Hey, Kath, I don’t mean to be rude, but you do remember that you invited me for dinner, don’t you?”
Owen gave a loud, enthusiastic “meow” before I could answer. “Yes, we know you remember,” I said. I smiled at Maggie. “Rebecca is making dinner for us. You do like cabbage, don’t you? I said you did.”
Maggie looked at Owen. “What do you think?” she asked. “Coleslaw maybe?”
He seemed to make a face.
“You’re right,” Maggie said. “Coleslaw is more of a July/August kind of thing. It could be egg rolls? Or sausage and cabbage soup?”
Owen looked up at her, his head cocked to one side as though he was trying to decide which choice sounded the best. There was a knock on the door then.
“That’ll be Rebecca,” I said, heading for the porch.
Maggie leaned down toward Owen. “Maybe it’s corned beef and cabbage,” I heard her say to him.
It wasn’t Rebecca at the back door; it was Everett, in jeans and a black windbreaker, carrying a large, insulated cooler bag and a smaller canvas tote. “Hello, Kathleen,” he said. Even in casual clothes, he reminded me of actor Sean Connery, without the Scottish accent.
I smiled. “Hi, Everett.” I moved aside and he stepped into the porch, setting the cooler on the bench by the door and handing me the canvas bag.
He leaned in for a closer look at my face, frowning at my scraped forehead. His dark eyes met mine and his expression was serious. “Kathleen, are you sure you weren’t hurt?” he asked.
I nodded. “I appreciate your concern, Everett,” I said. “But I really am okay. The paramedics checked me over very carefully. It looks much worse than it feels.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I had no idea that bank was in danger of collapsing.”
“There’s no way you could have known,” I said. “I heard Harry Taylor say that this is the wettest spring this area’s seen in more than forty years. Please don’t worry about it.”
His expression softened just a little. “If you need anything, I want you to call the office. Lita will take care of it.”
“Thank you,” I said. I reached for the nylon cooler. “And please thank Rebecca for this.”
“I will,” Everett said. His face closed in again and he lowered his voice. “I heard about Jaeger Merrill, Kathleen. Please tell Maggie if the co-op has any problems. Lita will know how to find me.”
“I’ll tell her,” I said.
He nodded and left. I carried everything into the kitchen. Hercules had joined Maggie and Owen and all three of them looked expectantly at me.
I handed the canvas bag to Maggie. “See what’s in there,” I said. I put the nylon cooler on the counter and unzipped the top. Inside there was a large casserole dish. I lifted it out, took the lid off and inhaled the delicious smell of onions and spices. A small dish held Rebecca’s homemade noodles.
“There’s apple crumble in here,” Maggie crowed behind me. “And cinnamon rolls.”
I put both casserole dishes on the table, stuck the apple crumble in the oven to warm and stashed the cinnamon rolls on the counter. “Let’s eat,” I said to Maggie.
She glanced down at Owen and Hercules sitting next to her chair like two furry guardians. “You’re not even going to give them a taste?” she asked.
“Roma told me to stop giving them so much people food,” I said. “She told you the same thing or did you forget?”
She looked at the cats again. “I don’t see Roma anywhere, do you?” Owen actually looked around the kitchen much to Maggie’s delight. She made a sweeping gesture around the kitchen. “Nope. No sign of her anywhere.”
I sighed and got a couple of small bowls from the cupboard. “Number one, I’m telling Roma next time I see her.” I put a few noodles and a bit of meat and sauce into each bowl. There was no way I was giving the cats cabbage. That had to be a bad idea. “And number two, when they hack up something disgusting tomorrow, I’m calling you to come clean it up.”
I handed her the bowls and she set them on the floor, one in front of each cat. That even got her an adoring look from Hercules. Maggie unfolded her napkin and smiled sweetly at me as she reached for the noodles.
Rebecca was an outstanding cook. I’d had meals at five-star restaurants that weren’t as good as the meal she’d sent.
“Did you talk to Marcus?” I asked over my second helping of apple crumble. Owen was still by Maggie’s chair, carefully washing his face. Hercules had wandered off to do whatever it was he did after supper.
She nodded. “I did. He wanted to know how Jaeger could have ended up on those basement stairs.” She sighed. “I’d like to know that myself.”
“Maybe he picked the lock.” I didn’t add that it was something I knew how to do—depending on the lock.
“Maybe he did. He didn’t have my keys and he didn’t have Ruby’s.” She pulled one leg up underneath her and leaned against the back of the chair. “Have you ever noticed that Marcus asks you a question and then a few minutes later he asks the same question again, in a slightly different way?”
“I noticed,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s a cop thing, or just a Marcus thing.”
“It’s like he’s testing you to see if you’ll give the same answer every time.”
I set my spoon down and pushed my dish away before I ended up with a third helping of apple crumble. “So what was it he kept asking you about?”
Maggie’s cheeks went pink and she looked down at the table. “He heard about the fight I had with Jaeger.”
“You mean at the meeting?”
“No. I mean the fight.” She lifted her head and looked at me. “I didn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was embarrassed.”
Owen had stopped washing his face and was staring intently at Maggie, as though he could feel her discomfort.
She played with the crimson and silver scarf at her neck. “I usually handle things better than this, but Jaeger got under my skin. Between the flooding at the store, the flooding period, trying to rearrange the yoga and tai chi classes and keep up with the Web site orders and deal with him trying to incite a rebellion—” She stopped, and slid a hand over her hair. “I’m making excuses.”
I shook my head. “No y
ou’re not. You’ve been running on herbal tea and very little sleep for over a week. I’ve at least had caffeine.”
“I don’t think any amount of caffeine would have made dealing with Jaeger any easier,” she said.
There was a tiny bit of apple left in her dish. She scooped it up with her spoon, leaned over and held it out to Owen. He sniffed it carefully and instead of putting it on the floor so he could investigate it like a crime scene technician, he actually ate from the spoon.
“And, if you’re wondering if I pushed Jaeger down those stairs, the answer is no.”
“Let me guess. Marcus actually asked you that.”
She gave me a wry smile as she straightened up. “He did. He also asked if I’d given Jaeger my keys.” She held up a hand before I could say anything. “And don’t call him a dipwad. He’s just doing his job.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wish he could be a little more human when he does it.” I got up from the table and put the kettle on to boil so I could make Maggie some tea. “And I wish he’d put his focus back on those remains—whoever they are—out at Wisteria Hill. Jaeger’s death was an accident.”
Maggie stretched, stood up, and started clearing the table. “I should call Roma,” she said. “Do you think it actually is her father’s body out there?”
“That ring is his. He disappeared a long, long time ago. It does make sense.” I got a cup and the peppermint teabags I kept just for Maggie out of the cupboard. “I did a little research in the newspaper’s archives. Thomas Karlsson had a job with a landscaping company for a while—Sam’s father’s company. Maybe he was working at Wisteria Hill.”
Just then the phone rang. “Go ahead and make your tea,” I said to Maggie as I headed for the living room.
I leaned across the wing chair, and grabbed the receiver.
“Hi, Kathleen,” Roma said.
There was something flat and off about her voice. I dropped onto the footstool.
“Dr. Abbott got someone she knows who’s a forensic dentist to come look at the…remains.”
My chest tightened. “And?” I said.
“And…and I don’t know how he did it so fast but Marcus got my—Tom’s dental records.”
I knew what was coming before she said the words.
“It’s him, Kathleen. That’s my father who was buried out at Wisteria Hill.”
11
I rubbed my left shoulder, which had suddenly tightened into knots. “I’m so sorry, Roma,” I said. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “All these years I thought he’d just…left. Now I find out…I don’t know.”
“I know that Eddie’s on the road,” I said. “Why don’t you come over? Maggie’s here and there’s some of Rebecca’s apple crumble.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”
“We’ll see you in a few minutes,” I said and hung up.
I went back to the kitchen. Maggie had cleared the table, stacked the dishes at one side of the sink and was drinking her tea and talking quietly to Owen.
I dropped into the chair across from her. She studied my face. “Whoever that was, it wasn’t good news.”
“That was Roma,” I said. “I have no idea how Marcus did it all so quickly, but those are her father’s remains.”
Maggie winced and shook her head. “I was really hoping it would be someone else.”
“She’s on her way over,” I said, getting up to put more water in the kettle. I leaned around Maggie’s chair to look at Owen, pointing a warning finger at the cat. “No glaring. No hissing,” I said sternly. “This has been a horrible day for Roma. Remember what Flower’s mother said.” He looked at me, almost thoughtfully it seemed, then he headed for the living room.
“Flower’s mother?” Maggie asked, clearly confused.
“The little skunk from the movie, Bambi,” I said. “His name was Flower.”
“So what did his mother say?”
“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”
“I like it,” Maggie said. “But somehow I doubt Owen has seen Bambi.”
The kettle had boiled and the cinnamon rolls and the last of the apple crumble were on the table when Roma knocked at the back door. I hugged her and then she took a step back to examine my forehead. “That looks ugly,” she said, “and yes I know, you’re fine.” She looked over to the kitchen door. “I heard about Jaeger Merrill. How’s Maggie doing?”
I nodded. “She’s okay.”
Roma followed me into the kitchen and Maggie folded her into a hug. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said.
“Hey, I’m sorry you had to find Jaeger Merrill’s body,” Roma countered. She looked from Maggie to me. “Can you believe the past couple of days? Two bodies and you almost ended up in the hospital.”
“I’ve had better days,” Maggie said. “At least it didn’t rain.” Roma and I exchanged tiny smiles, which Maggie caught. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said as I hung up Roma’s jacket. “It’s just you’re the most positive person I know.”
“Do you think that’s bad?” Maggie asked as she made tea for Roma.
“No, I don’t,” Roma said, sitting down with a sigh. “I think it’s good.”
“Have you talked to Eddie?” I asked, pulling out my chair.
Roma nodded. “I have. Twice. I wish he wasn’t on the road.”
“So what happens now? What did Marcus say?” I asked.
“Dr. Abbott and her team are going to keep looking for the rest of…the remains. They’ll have to do an autopsy.” She picked up her cup and then set it down again without drinking. “However Tom died, it wasn’t natural causes. Otherwise he wouldn’t have ended up at Wisteria Hill.”
Maggie reached over and laid her hand on Roma’s arm. “I’m sorry that you had to see those bones and then find out they were your father.”
“It was more odd than sad,” Roma said. “You know, I barely have any memories of the man. I can remember, of all things, playing hide and seek with him. I was two or three, maybe. He put a blanket or something over my head and told me to be very quiet and I pretended I wasn’t there.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “And I can remember sitting on his lap, pretending I was driving. I can still see the car. It had turquoise and white bucket seats.”
“Those are good memories,” Maggie said. “You don’t have to give them up because of what happened.”
“I know,” Roma said. “For me, my father is my stepfather, Neil. I know I have a connection to those…bones, but what I really want is the truth. I want to know what happened.” She sighed. “I have some hard questions for my mother. I think maybe the answers are going to be just as hard to hear.”
“If you need anything, all you have to do is ask,” I said, and Maggie nodded in agreement.
Roma gave us a small smile. “Thanks.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement by the living room doorway. It was Owen, carrying something in his mouth with Hercules as his wingman. So much for my speech about behaving while Roma was here. I glared at them, but as usual they ignored me.
Owen came purposefully into the room and dropped the head of a Fred the Funky chicken near Roma’s feet, then took a couple of steps backward. Hercules pushed it closer with a paw. He looked at Roma and meowed softly.
“Is that for me?” Roma asked, her voice suddenly raspy. Hercules gave the yellow chicken head another nudge.
I had a lump in my throat. Was it possible that somehow they understood that Roma was upset?
She looked across the table at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were trying to cheer me up,” she said, her voice still low and hoarse.
“Animals can be very sensitive to emotions,” Maggie said. “Maybe they do sense something.”
Roma turned back to the cats and leaned forward. “Thank you,” she said.
I leaned around Roma’s chair and gave Owen and Hercules
a nod of approval. They started around the table for the living room. Maggie gave them both thumbs-up as they passed her chair.
Roma picked up her spoon and cleared her throat. “There isn’t anything more I can do about my—about Tom right now. So could we talk about something else? Please? Tell me, is it true that Jaeger Merrill wasn’t in fact Jaeger Merrill?”
Gossip got around Mayville Heights faster than a speeding bullet or fiber-optic Internet service.
“It’s true,” Maggie said. “His real name was Christian Ellis.”
Roma took a sip of her coffee. “So how did Christian Ellis turn into Jaeger Merrill and end up here in Mayville Heights?”
“I don’t know why he changed his name, but he might have ended up here because his lawyer back then was Peter Lundgren,” I said.
“Peter?” Roma said.
Maggie looked surprised as well. “Ruby didn’t tell me that part.”
I took a drink from my cup. “There’s a photo of the two of them in that book Ruby has. I saw it. And I was curious, so I did a little digging into Christian Ellis’s background this afternoon. I found another photo of him and Peter online.” I didn’t add that I knew Maggie wasn’t going to be able to let the whole secret identity thing go and I’d hoped I’d find some answers so she wouldn’t make herself crazy over it.
“It doesn’t sound like Peter,” Roma said. “He’s always been the defender of the downtrodden type. His practice has been running on next to nothing for years. I think he would have gone under by now except some distant relative died about eighteen months ago and left everything he had to Peter. There wasn’t a lot of money but there was a lot of very valuable land.”
“Ruby said Peter was just starting out when he was Christian Ellis’s lawyer,” I said.
“You know I think I saw him out at Wisteria Hill last week,” Roma said, tipping her bowl so she could scrape all the cinnamon-flecked apple from the bottom. “I think he was drawing the old house.”
“Peter was out sketching at Wisteria Hill?” Maggie said. Sometimes the obvious escaped her.
