by Sofie Kelly
I was in the staff room about half an hour later getting a cup of coffee before I started to work on the staff schedule when Harry appeared in the doorway.
“Hi,” he said. “Susan said you were up here.”
“I’m getting fortified for some paperwork,” I said, holding up the pot. “Would you like a cup?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I just wanted to let you know that I talked to Ritchie and he wasn’t spending Wednesday nights with Mike.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It was a bit of a long shot.”
“Do you really think it’s important?” Harry asked. “Maybe Mike was seeing someone and just wanted to keep it to himself.”
I leaned back against the counter and folded my hands around my cup. “You’re probably right.”
“I have faith in you, Kathleen,” Harry said. “I know you can figure out what happened.” He gestured toward the back of the building. “I’ll be out at the gazebo if you need me.”
Instead of going back to my office, I stayed where I was, leaning against the counter. Harry had faith in me but I wasn’t so sure that I had faith in myself.
Mike had probably just been seeing someone that he wasn’t ready to introduce to his family and friends. And he’d likely been killed by some random prowler. It happened, even in a place as small and safe as Mayville Heights. My problem was the fact that I couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t what had happened. I didn’t know why I felt that way. I just had some feeling, some instinct that there was more to Mike Bishop’s death than it seemed on the surface. I thought about what Harrison had said to me, “Just rely on your instincts and everything will be just fine.”
I was probably tilting at windmills à la Don Quixote but I wasn’t going to give up on figuring out where Mike had been on Wednesday nights for the past couple of months.
I did some work on the schedule and then went downstairs to give Susan a break at the front desk.
“It’s been quiet so far,” she said. “Did Harry find you?”
“He did,” I said. “Thanks for sending him up.”
“Lachlan Quinn is still on the microfilm reader and the monitor on the second computer is acting up again. I did your ‘whack it on the side’ thing and it seems to be okay for now.”
“The board meeting’s this week. After that, I should be able to order the new computers.” I held up my crossed fingers.
“I can’t wait,” Susan said. “I may make a bonfire out of the old ones and dance naked around it in the moonlight.”
“I’m pretty sure you can’t burn computers,” I said. “They release toxic chemicals into the air.”
“Okay, so naked dancing in the moonlight it is.” She grinned.
“Or we could just have cake.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, or we could just have cake.” She stretched and yawned. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”
I smiled. “I made a new pot.”
Susan smiled back at me. “I knew there was a reason I like you.”
There were three books sitting on the counter. She put a hand on top of them and her smile faded. “Mike requested those,” she said.
It wasn’t the first time books had come in for someone who had died. That little bit of unfinished business always left me feeling sad, even if I hadn’t known the person beyond what they had liked to read.
The top book on the stack was about the Mayflower, the second one was about life in England in the early 1600s and the last was The Genetics of Eye Color.
“I’ll send them back,” I said. “Go take your break.”
She headed for the stairs and I picked up the books. I had suggested the one about the Mayflower and another source had mentioned the book about life in seventeenth-century England. The genetics text had to have something to do with those Punnett squares.
Holding the book in my hands, I had a crazy thought that maybe Mike had gotten the idea that Leitha wasn’t a Finnamore because of something he had learned during his research. I thought about the picture he had shown me of Leitha with her parents. Leitha didn’t look a lot like them but that might have been her stern appearance in the photograph. Was it possible? And if bizarrely it was true, then did that have anything to do with either of their deaths?
chapter 17
I spent the rest of the afternoon with questions about what Mike had been trying to work out turning over in my head. If she’d been faced with proof that she wasn’t a Finnamore, what would Leitha have done? It had been such a huge part of her identity. If—and that was a very big if—Mike had found some reason to suspect she hadn’t been part of the Finnamore legacy, I didn’t see her just accepting that. She would have needed more solid proof than just his suspicions. And the color of her eyes proved nothing with respect to whether or not she was biologically part of that family.
Mike was smart enough not to just rely on eye color to prove something like that. Maybe I needed to look at another Finnamore family trait that was more genetically straightforward. I was probably tilting at windmills again. I rubbed both temples. I had a headache again.
Lachlan had found some information about the music school in the newspaper. “I’m on the right track,” he said to me. “I know it. Thanks for suggesting the newspaper and showing me how to look at it. I’ll be back to see what else I can find.”
I was happy to see him smile.
“Do you know where Levi is?” I said to Susan. “I need some help carrying in some boxes.”
“He’s scraping gum off the bottom of one of the tables in the children’s section,” she said. “What is it with people and gum in the library? Don’t they know what garbage cans are for?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Gum stuck all sorts of odd places in the building was a chronic problem for us.
“Would it be okay if I made some signs?” Susan asked. “Just something that says, ‘Please put your gum in the garbage can,’ or something like that?”
“It’s fine with me.” I wasn’t sure signs would make a difference but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
Levi was on his hands and knees under one of the big round tables in the children’s department, scraping at the underside with the plastic scraper. His mind was clearly somewhere else because, when I called his name, he started and banged his head on the table.
“I’m sorry,” I said as he backed out from underneath. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need some help carrying some boxes up to the workroom.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “That’s the second time I’ve done that in the last ten minutes. My brain can’t seem to remember there’s a table just four inches above my head.” He held one hand just above his hair and moved it through the air.
Levi looked tired. He’d missed a patch on his left jawline when he’d shaved and he wasn’t quite looking me in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m okay,” he replied just a little too quickly.
I could easily think of half a dozen things that could have been wrong in the life of someone his age. I hoped it was one of the minor ones.
“I didn’t ask if you were okay. I asked what’s wrong.” I waited.
He didn’t seem to quite know what to do with his hands. He ran them back through his hair, then tugged at the front of his shirt.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Are you trying to convince someone to break the law or hurt themselves or another person?”
“No,” he said. “I would never do anything like that.”
“Then you’re not going to get anyone in trouble. They might get themselves in trouble but that’s on them, not on you.” My mother had used that logic on me many times. Some of them it had actually worked.
“Mrs. Anderson, the woman who died in that car accident a few
months ago—is it true what I heard? That is wasn’t an accident.”
I nodded. “It looks that way.” My stomach suddenly felt like I was on a roller coaster.
“She was going home from here,” Levi continued, “after Mary’s talk, right?”
“That’s right.” I wanted to push him to get to the point, but I was afraid if I did, he’d stop talking altogether.
He rubbed his hands on his black jeans. “That day, I heard Mrs. Anderson arguing with someone. She was really angry.”
“Do you know who she was arguing with?”
He nodded. “Yeah. And the thing is, I just know that . . . that he wouldn’t have killed her.”
“So then you can’t get that person in trouble.”
He looked doubtful.
“Levi, who was it?” I asked. I had a feeling I knew the answer.
He looked down at his feet. “Johnny Rock.”
That was what I had expected him to say. “I know they argued. Johnny told me.”
Levi still looked troubled. “Did he tell you what he said to her?”
“He told me they’d had words over a business deal.”
He couldn’t seem to keep his hands still. He ran a hand over his head. He pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. “He wouldn’t have killed an old lady. I don’t want him to be in trouble because of what I heard.”
“Levi, is this something the police need to hear?” I asked.
He looked down at his feet. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just that Johnny said something they might take the wrong way.”
I slowly let out a breath. “I don’t think Johnny could kill anyone, either—old or not. So what did he say? ‘I wish you were dead’?” I smiled. “I’ll tell you a little secret. When I was not much younger than you are, I said that to my mother more than once when I was fighting with her. But I didn’t mean it and no one really thought I did.”
Levi almost smiled. “I can’t picture you as a teenager,” he said.
“Sometime, I’ll show you some slightly embarrassing photos from back then,” I said.
He scuffed one foot on the floor. “Okay. Johnny didn’t exactly say he wished she was dead but it was pretty close. He said, ‘When you’re dead, I will dance on your grave, old woman, and it can’t come soon enough for me.’ ”
Given how angry I knew Johnny had been at the time, the words didn’t surprise me. It also didn’t surprise me that he hadn’t volunteered that he’d said them.
“So do I need to talk to the police?” Levi asked.
“How about I tell Detective Gordon what you just told me, and if he needs to talk to you, he’ll let you know.”
His shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks, Kathleen,” he said. “I’ll go get those boxes for you.”
Once the cartons of books were upstairs, I called Marcus and explained what Levi had told me. “I don’t think it’s a big deal,” I said. “But I thought I should let you know.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Johnny’s feelings about Leitha are pretty clear. I don’t need to talk to Levi.”
“For the record, I don’t think Johnny killed Leitha no matter what he said to her, and I’m certain he didn’t kill Mike.”
I pictured Marcus probably shaking his head at the phone. “For the record, right now I’m just going to say, ‘no comment.’ ”
* * *
Marcus showed up just after we’d closed the library. I was about to get in the truck and Harry was sweeping the back end of the parking lot. The Reading Club kids had taken some vegetables home, and there were dirt and the odd radish all over the pavement.
I waited by the truck as Marcus walked over to me. He raised one hand in hello to Harry. “Kathleen, did you by any chance talk to Johnny this afternoon?” he asked.
“If you mean, did I call and warn him that Levi had heard him telling Leitha how happy he’d be when she was dead? No.”
He had the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I just wondered if he might have come in or called for any reason. You did say he made a big donation to the computer fund.”
“I haven’t talked to Johnny at all today. Why?”
“I need to talk to Harry,” he said.
That didn’t answer my question, so I followed him across the lot. He asked Harry the same question: Had he talked to Johnny this afternoon?
Harry shook his head. “I haven’t talked to Johnny for a couple of days.” He pulled off his hat, ran a hand over his bald head and put it back on again. “More than any of the rest of us, Johnny is struggling with Mike’s death. They were close and I think Mike would have ended up going on the road with Johnny for at least part of the time, even if the rest of us didn’t.” He stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. “Mike was the reason we ended up getting together for the Last Bash. It was his idea and he nagged the rest of us until we were all in. The two of them had plans and I think Johnny’s having a hard time letting go of them.” He focused on Marcus. “No offense, but we need answers and the sooner the better.”
“I know,” Marcus said. “I’m trying to get you those answers. There are a couple of things I need to talk to Johnny about, but I haven’t been able to find him.”
“If I hear from him, I’ll tell him to call you,” Harry said.
Marcus nodded. “Thanks.”
I said good night to Harry and walked back to the truck with Marcus. “You can’t actually think Johnny killed either one of them?” I said. “He had no reason.”
“My job is to gather the evidence.”
I gave him a look.
He sighed. “The problem is, no one had a reason to want Mike dead as far as I can see. No one had a motive to kill Leitha, either. She was difficult, no question, but she was an annoyance, like a mosquito buzzing around your head, not a threat to anyone. I’m going to check Eric’s. I’ll call you later.”
I watched him drive away and then I unlocked the truck, set my messenger bag on the seat and climbed inside. When I turned to head toward Mountain Road and home, I looked out over the water and the Riverwalk and it occurred to me that I might know where Johnny was. I headed in that direction instead.
As I drove, I thought about the argument Levi had overheard between Leitha and Johnny. Those words “When you’re dead, I will dance on your grave, old woman, and it can’t come soon enough for me” didn’t sound like a threat to me. It almost sounded like Johnny had been gloating.
I thought about Lachlan, working so hard to find some justification to stop the deal for that property in Red Wing. Lachlan had said Johnny didn’t want the teen to waste his time researching the old building. That gave me an idea.
I parked in the lot where the concert stage had been set up. That night felt like such a long time ago. A man was standing by the edge of the embankment, looking out over the water, hands stuffed in his pockets.
I walked across the grass toward him. “Hey, Johnny,” I said when I got close.
He turned and gave me what passed for a smile from him these days. “Hey, Kathleen. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.”
The water was dark and angry and the clouds were low and heavy. It was going to rain soon.
“You were the new buyer for the building in Red Wing, weren’t you?” I asked. “The buyer who was going to turn the property into a parking lot. You scammed Leitha. That’s why you weren’t worried. That’s why you told Lachlan to let go of his plan to stop the sale. You didn’t want to stop the sale.”
He was nodding before I finished speaking. “Yeah. I bested her. You have no idea how hard it was not to rub her face in that, to keep it secret.”
“I can imagine.”
“It wasn’t just about the building. It was the way she treated Mike and Jonas. Part of it was because I hated
how she kept pressuring Lachlan about college and threatening not to let him have the Finnamore money for his education, as though studying music was somehow not good enough. I wanted her out of the kid’s life but I didn’t make it happen. Mike cared about the old bat, you know. And that tells you everything you need to know about him right there.”
I nodded because I couldn’t get any words past the lump in my throat.
“So why were you looking for me?” Johnny asked.
I cleared my throat. “Marcus needs to talk to you. I think you should tell him what you just told me.”
Johnny pulled out his phone. “What’s his number?”
chapter 18
I waited with Johnny until Marcus arrived.
“I would never tell you how to grieve,” I said when I caught sight of Marcus pulling in next to my truck in the parking lot, “because something like that is so intensely personal, plus it annoys the crap out of me when people do that.”
Johnny gave me a small smile, the first genuine one I’d seen from him in a while.
“But I am going to remind you that if Mike were standing here instead of me, he would tell you to grab life by the—” I pictured Mike onstage explaining his definition of a good friend. I smiled. “By the athletic supporter and live every second you’ve got because none of us knows how long that’s going to be.”
I put a hand on his shoulder for a moment and then headed over to meet Marcus.
“Thank you for getting Johnny to call me,” he said. “I thought you were going home.”
I knew that meant Why didn’t you just tell me where you thought Johnny was? Since he hadn’t asked me that directly, all I said was “I’m going home now.”
I started for the truck. Marcus didn’t say, I’ll call you later, and neither did I.
* * *
