To tell the truth: Why did so many people who were lying use that expression?
“Do you know what he was looking for at the sale?” I asked.
He shrugged and his gaze flicked away momentarily. “He was probably doing the same thing I was doing, the same thing every other artist there was doing: looking for stuff to use in his work.” He studied me, eyes narrowed. “Why all the questions?”
“I was with Maggie when she found Jaeger’s body. Him being down in the co-op basement doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”
“You think he was running some kind of scam.” He gave me a half smile. “I heard about the whole secret identity thing.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to keep both my body language and my voice casual. “It’s crossed my mind, yes.”
Ray stretched and looked out the long windows to the water. Then he looked at me once more. “If he was, I don’t have a clue what he was doing.” He held out both hands. “Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway,” I said.
He opened the door and leaned against the edge of it with one hand on the knob. “If I think of anything, I’ll let Maggie know.”
“Great,” I said.
I started back up to Ruby’s studio. Okay, so Ray Nightingale was lying. What exactly was I going to do with that information?
I could call Marcus and tell him I was certain Jaeger Merrill/Christian Ellis was working some kind of scam—maybe out of the co-op—because I’d found a little purple buffer attachment at Wisteria Hill, and Ray was involved somehow, which I knew because he’d used the phrase, “to tell the truth,” and because his voice had changed while he was talking to me about Jaeger.
Oh sure, that would convince him.
I stood in the hallway outside Ruby’s door. If I was going to convince Marcus of anything, I was going to have to figure out what exactly Ray was lying about and what exactly he and Jaeger had been up to. No big deal. Right?
Ruby was on her laptop, looking at pictures of Hercules she’d already downloaded from her camera. He was sitting to one side, eyeing the screen and chewing something.
“That was fast,” I said.
They both looked up at me, then Ruby smiled at the cat. “Hercules is very photogenic.”
The look the cat gave me was decidedly proud.
I crossed to the table and scooped him up. There were crumbs on his whiskers and I caught the faint smell of peanut butter. Clearly the cat had had a peanut butter cookie—or two.
“What are you going to do with these pictures?” I asked, reaching for the carrier.
“They’re for a pop-art workshop,” Ruby said, closing the top of her computer. “I’m going to do a pop-art painting of Hercules. I’m thinking lime green and Big Bird yellow.”
I set Herc in the bag and zipped the top just in case he decided to go look for more cookies.
“Did you get what you needed from Ray?” Ruby asked, standing up and brushing her hands on her paint spotted jeans.
“Yes, I did,” I said. I swung the bag up over my shoulder.
“Thanks Kathleen,” she said. “Maggie says we should be able to have class on Tuesday. I’ll see you there if I don’t see you before.”
“Oh boy, cloud hands,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I can’t wait.”
She laughed. I waggled my fingers at her and headed for the stairs.
Back in the truck I unzipped the top of the bag and Hercules stuck his head out. I reached over to stroke the fur at the top of his nose. “It was very nice of you to pose for Ruby,” I said.
He made a low rumbly noise in his throat.
I started the truck, turned and headed for home. “You know, it occurs to me that pen cap you found might have belonged to Ray,” I said. “Is that what you were trying to tell me? Jaeger was up to something and Ray’s tied up in it too?”
The cat gave a curious murp. It may have meant what are you going to do now? Or he may have been asking, what’s for supper?
Either way the answer was the same.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Owen was sprawled on the floor under the kitchen table when we got home. He got up, shook himself and headed for the back door. He liked to prowl around our yard and Rebecca’s every day.
I put the carrier bag on the floor and the two cats exchanged a long look. I had no idea if it was some kind of cat connection or just a random stare-down.
The phone rang as I shut the porch door behind Owen. I slid across the kitchen floor in my sock feet, almost doing a header into the refrigerator, while Hercules watched. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that,” I told him. You’d think I would have known by now that the only thing sarcasm got me from the cats was ignored.
It was Roma on the phone. “How are you?” I asked.
She paused before she answered as if she needed to consider the question. “I’m all right,” she finally said. “What about you?”
“I’m all right, too,” I said. “I have some spectacular bruises but my ankle’s okay and so is my hand.”
“Good,” Roma said. “How were Lucy and the others?”
“They all came out to eat and they all looked good.”
She gave a small sigh of relief. “Thank you for taking my shift this morning.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. I sat down on the footstool, stretching my legs out in front of me. “Any time you need someone to feed the cats for you, just let me know.”
“Actually what I need is for you to come to supper tonight.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“You’re sure?” Roma asked.
“Absolutely. What time and would you like me to bring dessert?”
“Six o’clock and you don’t have to bring anything.”
“I know I don’t have to bring anything,” I said. “But would you like me to bring dessert?”
She hesitated. “Truthfully, yes.”
“Done then,” I said. Hercules peeked his head around the doorway.
“Kathleen, my mother and father will be here,” Roma said. “I need to ask some awkward questions and I’d uh, just like a little moral support.”
“You have it,” I said. I looked over at the doorway. Hercules had disappeared back into the kitchen. Or through a wall for all I knew. “I may not be a big, tall, cute hockey player, but I’ll do my best.”
“Just don’t body check anyone into the furniture and we’ll be just fine,” she said with a laugh.
“Well, okay,” I said with an exaggerated sigh. It was good to hear Roma sounding more like herself. We said good-bye and I hung up the phone and went back to the kitchen.
Hercules was sitting by his dish. He looked pointedly from the cupboard where I kept the cat treats to the refrigerator and then meowed loudly in case I didn’t get the point.
“Yes, I know I owe you,” I said. I patted my pocket. “I’m not sure what the pen top means but nice work on the mouse.”
He reached over and swatted the side of his dish with one paw.
“Sardines or kitty crackers?” I asked.
He immediately went over and put one paw on the fridge door.
“Sardines. Good choice,” I said, opening the door to get the remains of the can I’d opened the day before.
Hercules watched intently as I dumped the little fish into his bowl. “Why didn’t you eat the mouse?” I asked him.
He lifted his head, closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose. “Maybe we should have brought it back for your brother in a—what do you call a doggy bag for cats?”
Herc dropped his head and went back to the sardines and at the same time he flipped the end of his tail. I was pretty sure the gesture meant the same thing as it did when a person made the motion. That’s what I got for using my best lines on a cat.
I made lemon coffee cake to take to Roma’s and while it baked I put in a load of laundry and washed the kitchen floor. And since Owen was still outside I played an entire Barry Manilow CD, which meant Hercules followed me everywhere, bobbing his head, grooving to the music. We made a pretty darn good pair of backup singers for a little black-and-white cat and a librarian who couldn’t carry a tune if it came in its own bag with a handle.