“Okay,” she said. She smiled. “Thanks.”
“I’d better get to the library,” I said. I reached for one of the boxes and Ruby grabbed the other.
I noticed then that Ruby had one of the little chocolate boxes from the fundraiser sitting on her worktable. She followed my gaze. “There aren’t any chocolates in it. It’s one of Nic’s prototypes. He asked for my opinion when he was working on the design.”
It occurred to me that I knew nothing about Nicolas Sutton. I remembered that I’d seen him tweaking the way the little boxes had been arranged on one of the serving trays. Could he have tampered with the chocolates? Why would he?
“I didn’t know the two of you were friends,” I said as we started down the hall to the stairs.
“We’re not, really,” she said. “I just like his work. And we’re both a little eclectic in our art. Nic’s a found metal artist. He plays with paper a little—well, you know about that—and does some stuff with photography.”
“How did he end up in Mayville Heights?”
Ruby stopped at the head of the stairs. “Why are you asking?”
“Curiosity,” I said with a shrug. At least that was true. “Those boxes he made. I’ve never seen such detailed work with paper before.”
“Yeah, he’s really good,” Ruby said as we started down the steps. “Maggie wants him to do some workshops when we get the space set up at the store.” She shifted the box in her arms, balancing it on her hip. “I know he was living in Minneapolis. I don’t know if that’s home or not. He said he had some personal stuff and he wanted a new start.”
“Mayville Heights is a good place for that,” I said with a smile.
“So, things are good with you and Marcus?” she asked.
I nodded and I couldn’t help smiling.
She smiled back at me. “Well, I think you’re good for him. You know, my grandmother used to say, ‘There’s a cover for every pot.’ Of course, then she’d say, ‘But if you don’t have a cover, you can use a big plate.’” Ruby laughed, her pigtails bobbing. “I have no idea what that means.”
I grinned back at her. “Me either.”
We put the boxes on the front seat of the truck and I thanked her again.
“I’ll see you at class tomorrow night,” she said.
At least we could start decorating the building for the holidays, I thought as I drove over to the library. I hadn’t really found out anything about Nic Sutton and I realized how far-fetched it would be that he knew Dayna, had ended up in Mayville Heights and then had killed her.
I was grasping at straws because I really didn’t know what else to do.
11
Marcus called about nine thirty. “Can you take a break in about half an hour?” he asked.
Mary and I were walking around the main floor of the building trying to decide on the best places for the new Christmas tree.
“I can,” I said. “Are you coming over?”
“I need to ask you a few more questions about Thursday night,” he said.
“I’ll make a new pot of coffee.”
“You two are adorable,” Mary said after I’d hung up.
I made a face at her.
Marcus showed up exactly at ten o’clock, carrying two white cardboard boxes that I knew had come from Eric’s. He was wearing his heavy dark blue hooded parka and there were a few snowflakes dusting his dark hair.
He handed me the smaller of the two and took the other one over to Mary at the circulation desk. “Happy National Pastry Day,” he said.
Mary beamed at him and took the box. “Thank you. Happy National Pastry Day to you, too,” she said.
I gestured at the second-floor stairs. “We’ll be in my office,” I said.
“What’s in the box you gave Mary?” I asked once we were upstairs.
“The same thing that’s in the box you’re holding.”
I used a fingernail to slit the tape on the edge, lifted the lid and breathed in the scent of cranberries and lemon. The box held two of Eric’s cranberry lemon scones. Since I was wearing heels I didn’t have to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” I said. “And thank you on behalf of my staff.”
He smiled. “You’re both welcome.”
“You made up National Pastry Day, didn’t you?” I said.
He shrugged off his jacket and shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Ask Eric. He’s the one who told me it was National Pastry Day today.” He hung the parka on the back of the closest chair. “I can’t vouch for whether he made it up, though.”
I got coffee for both of us from the staff room and we settled in the two chairs in front of my desk. “So, what did you want to ask me?” I said. His wavy dark hair was a bit overdue for a cut and I thought about threading my fingers in it and pulling him over for a kiss. Pay attention, I told myself sternly.
Marcus leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs. My train of thought almost got derailed again.
“First of all, tell me again what Dayna said to you.”
I took a deep breath. “She said ‘live.’ I told her she was going to be okay. She said ‘package,’ which I think meant the box of chocolates. Then she stopped breathing.”
He nodded. “The fundraiser was almost completely sold out in advance?”
I reached for one of the two scones. “There were maybe a dozen or so tickets left and Abigail had taken those.”
“Did you know she’d sold them all?”
“No. Not until we got to the theater and I talked to her. On Thursday afternoon she picked up the chocolate boxes from Olivia, took them over to the Stratton and then went home to get ready, as far as I know. I’m guessing that Dayna happened to catch her at the theater. That was just luck.” Bad luck, I added silently
I broke the end off my scone, popped it in my mouth and made a little grunt of happiness. I had a second bite and hoped Marcus didn’t notice me licking the crumbs off my thumb.
He took a sip of his coffee. “Who decided when to hand the chocolates out to people?”
“I did,” I said. “Everett was going to welcome everyone and make his pitch for donations. Then I was going to talk a bit about Reading Buddies. I thought if everyone had a little gift in their hand, it might put people in a giving mood.”
He gave a slight nod. “So Taylor King and Mariah Taylor handed out the boxes.”
I nodded over my coffee cup. “Yes, along with Olivia herself.”
“Could you see Dayna?” He broke the end off his own scone and ate it.
“Uh-huh. She was just a table away from where I was standing, talking to Burtis and Lita.” In my mind I could see the stage at the Stratton, filled with people. I could hear the jazz quartet and people talking.
“Did you see Dayna actually take a box?” Marcus asked.
In my mind I could see Olivia offering the tray and Burtis handing one tiny chocolate box to Lita and then giving the other one to Dayna.
“Kathleen?” Marcus was looking at me, eyes narrowed in speculation.
I took a deep breath. “Olivia offered the tray, but Dayna didn’t take a box. Burtis handed one to her.”
He gave another slight nod. “Then what happened?” He wasn’t surprised.
“You already knew Burtis gave her the box.”
“Yes,” he said. He ate the last piece of his scone and followed it with a long drink of coffee.
“You talked to Burtis?”
He crumpled his napkin and dropped it in the garbage can. “I’ve talked to a lot of people—including Burtis.”
“They had an argument—a difference of opinion, something—at the party, not long before Dayna had the chocolate that killed her,” I said. I ate another bite of my scone and waited to see what Marcus would say.
What he said was “I know.”
I brushed crumbs off my dark skirt. “Burtis told you himself.” Before Marcus could say anything I held up one hand. “Can we just skip the part where you say, ‘I can’t tell you that,’ and then I say, ‘That’s the same as a yes’?”