by Sofie Kelly
“Very funny,” he said dryly.
We talked for a few more minutes and then said good night.
Leftover bread pudding and coffee would make a fine breakfast, I decided the next morning. The sun was shining, and I pulled on a T-shirt and leggings and took my mug and bowl out onto the veranda.
Jason was out bright and early working on the fence. It struck me that he was trying to goad Tom into doing something.
And just after ten thirty, it worked.
Tom came out of the house and made his way over to the younger man, putting himself between Jason and the hole he was digging in the strip of lawn. I took a deep breath and began to make my way to them. If the police were called again, Tom could end up being arrested.
“I know you took it,” I heard Tom say.
“Why the hell would I want some old watch?” Jason asked, wiping a dirty hand on the front of his jeans.
“You want it for the same reason you’re here pretending to care about Angie,” Tom retorted. “Money. You think I don’t know it was you? You were too lazy to take off your shoes so you tracked dirt and sawdust into my kitchen.”
“What’s going on?” I asked as I reached the two men.
“He took my watch,” Tom said. “My father’s railway watch. I went to the store this morning, and I guess I forgot to lock the back door. When I got back, I noticed some dirt and bits of sawdust on the kitchen floor. The watch was in my dresser upstairs. It was gone.” He turned back to Jason. “Give it back to me, or I’ll make you wish you had.”
“You’re crazy, old man,” Jason said.
Tom swung at him, but Jason had the advantage of youth. He sidestepped the punch, raised his arm and knocked Tom into the driveway.
I stepped in front of Jason. “Stop it!” I said, anger sharpening my voice. My heart was pounding in my chest. I bent down to Tom, keeping my eyes locked on Jason’s face.
“He swung at me first,” Jason snapped, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m allowed to defend myself.” He punched 911 into the phone and gave Tom a mean-spirited smile. “You’re going to jail, old man.”
Rose must have heard the commotion. She joined us, a look of determination on her face that any of her former students would have realized meant trouble was ahead.
Tom had dirt on the knees of his pants and he’d scraped the skin on his left hand. We helped him to his feet. “You useless diddy,” he shouted at the younger man.
I held on to Tom with both hands. “Don’t,” I said softly.
Jason gave us an arrogant smile. “Want to take me on, old man?” he asked. He turned his head to one side so the curve of his jaw was facing them. “C’mon, give it your best shot.” He made a come-here gesture with one hand.
Rose reached out and slapped Jason’s hand away. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Are you going to knock me down?” she asked. “That might be a little harder to explain to the police.”
Jason muttered something I didn’t catch under his breath, but I could already hear the police siren getting closer. I was betting he wouldn’t try anything now.
When the cruiser pulled up, it was the same police officer as the previous day. I saw the arrogant smile return to Jason Bates’s face when he realized that.
Tom repeated his accusation. Once again Jason was pleasant and agreeable, explaining how Tom had taken a swing at him. “Hey, you’re welcome to take a look around my aunt’s house,” he said. “I don’t have the watch.”
I wanted to swat the smirk off his face.
“Look in the garage,” Tom said to the officer. “That’s where he hid Molly’s ball. It’s probably where he’s hiding my watch.”
Rose had been studying the policeman’s face; now she smiled sweetly up at him. “How are you, Charles?” she asked.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Jackson,” the burly young man replied, returning her smile.
Rose turned to me. “Charles was one of my best students.”
The officer shifted from one foot to the other, a little uncomfortable at the praise, it seemed to me. “I don’t know about that, Mrs. Jackson,” he said.
“Nonsense.” Rose waved away his words with one hand. “You were a silver medalist in the State Math and Science Challenge.”
“And you were a great teacher.”
Rose beamed at him. “Charles, could you take a look in the garage?” Her gaze flicked to Jason for a moment. “Maybe that would calm everyone down.” She held up her cell phone. “I have Angie Bates’s number. I’m sure if we called her, she’d say yes.”
Jason looked at the policeman. “I’m not hiding anything in the garage.” There was an edge of exasperation to his voice. He threw up his hands. “Look, if it will put an end to this, yeah, go take a look.” His eyes darted to Tom. “You’re not going to find anything.”
“Let’s go then,” Officer Sullivan said.
We followed him across the grass to Angie’s garage. Jason went to pull up the door, but the policeman stopped him. “I’ll do that, Mr. Bates,” he said.
Jason shrugged. “Go ahead.” He took a step back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Search the entire garage. Like I said, you won’t find anything.”
The officer rolled up the garage door and took a couple of steps inside. The space was tidy by anyone’s standards, with rakes and shovels hung from hooks along the left wall and floor-to-ceiling shelves across the back. He made his way to the back, giving the shelves a quick once-over.
My heart was beating so hard, I glanced down at my white T-shirt almost expecting to see it move with each thump. Rose put her hand on my arm. She didn’t seem worried at all.
The officer stopped. Something had caught his attention. “Mrs. Jackson, do you know what color the child’s missing ball was?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Pink and purple,” Rose said. “With stripes.”
He lifted a rake down from its hook, moved back to the shelves and used it to swipe at an object I couldn’t see. I heard something hit the concrete floor and then Molly’s favorite ball rolled toward us. I bent to pick it up and couldn’t resist turning to look at Jason.
“He put it there,” Jason immediately said, moving toward Tom.
“Mr. Bates, please stay where you are.” Officer Sullivan’s voice had taken on a less friendly tone. He looked around the garage, spotted the stepladder and took it to the back of the space. Since he hadn’t told Tom or Rose or me to stay where we were, I moved a few steps closer so I could see what the policeman was doing with the ladder.
He was trying to reach something stuffed on the top shelf in the corner. He managed to grab whatever it was, climbed back down and walked back to us. He was holding a small cloth bag in his hand. He undid the drawstring and pulled out a gold pocket watch.
“That’s my watch,” Tom said. “Look inside. It’s inscribed with my father’s name: Reginald Thomas Harris.”
The officer looked inside the watch. Then he looked at Jason.
“This is a setup,” Jason declared hotly. “He put it there.” He pointed at Tom.
The policeman looked at the old man leaning on his cane.
Jason followed his gaze. “Then she did,” he said, pointing at me. “Or the woman across the street.”
Tom gave a snort of derision. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sarah couldn’t climb up there. She’s been wearing that splint for the last two weeks.”
I held out my left arm so the officer could see the bulky brace.
“And if by the woman across the street, you mean Katie Burns, she’s seven months pregnant,” Rose said. “She couldn’t get up to that shelf any more than I could.”
There was something else in the little fabric bag. Officer Sullivan shook a small pill bottle into his hand. It was an over-the-counter sleep aid.
“Those are sleeping pills,” Tom
said.
We all turned to look at Jason.
“This is a freakin’ setup!” He looked at the officer. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He pointed at Tom, jabbing the air with his finger. “He did this and she helped him.”
“Angie told me she felt sleepy before she fell down the stairs,” I said slowly.
Jason was becoming more agitated. He raked a hand back through his hair. I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his behavior.
“Mr. Bates, I’d like you to come down to the station with me,” Officer Sullivan said. I noticed he didn’t say “please.”
Katie had been watching from her yard. When the police cruiser drove away, she came over to join us. Tom explained what happened and she hugged him. I gave her the striped ball I’d been holding on to since it had rolled across the garage floor.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why did he let the police look in the garage when that’s where he was hiding everything?”
“Arrogance,” Tom replied.
“It’s been more than one person’s downfall,” Rose added.
Rose decided we needed a cake to celebrate and went home to start making one. Tom took Matilda and Molly to the park after he and I set a time to visit Amelia at the hospital that afternoon.
“Between the three of us, we can help her when she gets home,” Tom said.
• • •
I found Elvis perched on the veranda railing, eyeing the backyard like a king surveying his domain, when I got home at suppertime. I got the last sardine from the refrigerator for him and a piece of Rose’s celebratory cake—golden cake with strawberry filling and coconut frosting—for myself and joined him on the veranda. The cat eyed my plate, narrowing his green eyes as though he disapproved.
“Hey, I don’t criticize your dinner choices,” I said, gesturing at the half a sardine still on his plate.
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Rose standing in the doorway. “Hello, dear,” she said. “I thought that might be you. Would you like a cup of tea?”
I licked a bit of strawberry filling from the back of my fork. “Please,” I said.
“I’ll be right there.” She disappeared inside but was back in a minute with a cup of tea for me and one for herself. She handed me the cup and then took the chair beside me.
“This cake is incredible,” I said, gesturing with my fork.
Rose smiled at me over her tea. “I’ll teach you how to make it.”
Rose had been teaching me how to cook for months. After a lot of false starts and disasters, I was finally beginning to master some things. “Okay,” I said, nodding slowly. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle something so elaborate, but it occurred to me that eating my mistakes could be fun.
Before I started thinking about making cakes, there was something I needed to clear up. “Rose, how did those things end up in Angie’s garage?” I asked. “That was really stupid, even for Jason.”
“Well, it was crystal clear to the police that Tom couldn’t have planted that watch on such a high shelf,” she said, “and neither could Katie or you. Or me. Who else could it have been other than Jason?”
“Elvis could climb up there,” I said slowly. “He picked up your oven mitt.”
Rose reached over and patted my cheek with one hand. “You have a very vivid imagination, my darling girl,” she said.
I looked at the cat again. He licked a bit of fish oil from his plate and then licked his whiskers. I shook my head. No. Elvis was a very smart cat, but thinking he’d been coached to put Tom’s watch and that bottle of pills up on the shelf in Angie’s garage . . . it was a ridiculously far-fetched idea, I realized.
“I almost forgot,” Rose said. “Charles called. Jason finally admitted to drugging Angie with sleeping medication in exchange for not being charged for the thefts. He claims he never meant for her to get hurt. He just wanted her to fall asleep so he could swipe some of her jewelry.” She eyed my plate. “Is that your supper?”
“Not . . . exactly,” I said.
“How about some chicken fried rice and an eggroll?” She reached over and confiscated my plate and napkin. Then she got to her feet and started for the back door, not waiting for an answer. Elvis jumped down and headed off with her.
As Rose reached for the doorknob, the crumpled paper napkin slid off the plate onto the wide deck boards. Elvis immediately turned, picked it up in his mouth and padded back to her. Rose leaned down and Elvis dropped the napkin in her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, stroking his fur before straightening up.
I watched them disappear through the screen door, Rose talking to the cat, Elvis making little murps as though he was taking part in the conversation, and in the back of my mind the thought began to slowly spin that maybe my idea wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
Sofie Kelly is a New York Times bestselling author and mixed-media artist who lives on the East Coast with her husband and daughter. She writes the New York Times bestselling Magical Cats Mysteries (Faux Paw, A Midwinter’s Tail) and, as Sofie Ryan, writes the New York Times bestselling Second Chance Cat Mysteries (A Whisker of Trouble, Buy a Whisker).
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