Part 14 (1/2)

”Are you saying that because it's really what you think or because you've decided I've crossed the line into Wack-a-doodle Land?”

I waggled one hand at her. ”About sixty-forty.”

”I can live with that.”

She turned her attention to the photo collages. The new lights were clear and natural, a lot more like outdoor sunlight than anything else. Maggie looked up at the ceiling.

”Would it help if I went up the ladder and you nitpicked over how the lights are positioned?”

”Yes.” She smiled at me. Sometimes Maggie was like Owen and Hercules; sarcasm was totally wasted on her.

I moved the ladder about a foot to the left, checked to make sure it was steady and climbed up. For the next ten minutes or so I made miniscule adjustments to the lights until Maggie was satisfied.

”That's it,” she said, holding out both hands. ”I'm not touching anything else. I swear.”

Rebecca came across the tile floor, beaming. ”Maggie, this is fantastic,” she said.

Maggie's cheeks flushed. ”Thank you.”

”And I love Roma's young man.”

”Excuse me?” Maggie said.

Rebecca pointed at the dummy. ”That's Eddie Sweeney, right? The hockey player Roma's seeing?”

”Roma's not dating Eddie Sweeney,” Maggie said, looking at Rebecca like she had a second head.

”She's been driving around with him all over town.”

Maggie looked at me. I looked at her. We both burst out laughing at the same time.

Rebecca looked at us like we were crazy.

”Yes, Roma was driving around town with Eddie,” Maggie said, giggling. ”But it was this Eddie.” She pointed at the mannequin.

Rebecca looked at me. I nodded. ”That's how we got him down here,” Maggie explained, gesturing with both hands. ”He wouldn't fit in my car, so we belted him into the front seat of Roma's SUV.”

”And people thought it was the real Eddie,” Rebecca said with a laugh.

”I guess we were invisible in the backseat,” Maggie said softly to me.

I looked at my watch. ”Is there anything else I can do?”

”No,” she said, giving me a quick hug. ”Go back to the library. I'm headed back to the studio. I'll meet you here about six o'clock.”

”Okay,” I said.

”Don't eat for the rest of the afternoon,” Rebecca said. ”They'll be lots and lots of food.”

I got my coat and pulled on my hat. Then I headed down the stairs, cut across the lot and made my way to the corner. Waiting for a car to turn so I could cross the street, I noticed Marcus come out of Eric's. He paused on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, then made his way down two buildings and disappeared into the mouth of the alley.

I waited on the curb for a moment, but he didn't come back out.

This wasn't good. I just knew it wasn't good.

10.

We closed the library at five. Susan quickly bundled herself into her coat and boots and left. I pulled up my hood against the slight wind and started down the street toward the Stratton Theater.

It was a beautifully restored building-older than the library. Unfortunately, the first time I'd been inside I'd found a dead body. I'd been back to the theater for the summer music festival, for a couple of plays, a concert and a wonderful production of A Christmas Carol. My feelings about the old building were a lot happier now.

Agatha's little house was up a tiny side street just past the Stratton. Ruby was waiting at the end of the driveway, a shopping bag tucked under her arm. She smiled as I walked up to her. ”Thanks for doing this.”

”I don't mind,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a rea.s.suring smile in return.

Someone had plowed the driveway to the tiny brick house and cleared the path and steps. I trailed behind Ruby. Squinting at the door, she felt for the keyhole. I took a step back to get out of the light.

The key turned in the lock. Ruby leaned her weight against the old wooden door. It stuck for a second, then groaned open. I slid my hand around the left side of the frame, feeling for a light switch.

A light came on and I could see into what looked to be the kitchen, up a few steps to the left. I followed Ruby up the stairs, leaving my snowy boots at the bottom.

The kitchen floor was green-and-blue speckled linoleum, very old and faded but spotless. The walls were pale green; the cupboards painted white. The table was a vintage chrome set, blue flowers on a white background circa the 1960s, I guessed.

Other than that there was nothing in the room.

Nothing. No cookie jar on the counter. No calendar on the wall or funny pictures stuck to the refrigerator. Maybe her son had cleared a lot of things out when Agatha went to the rehabilitation center after her stroke.

Ruby looked around the room, lips pressed together.

I touched her arm. ”Let's see if we can find the bedroom.”

She nodded but didn't speak. The little house was cold. Claire had said Agatha hadn't always been able to afford the heat. It was a wonder the pipes hadn't frozen.

A tiny hallway led out of the kitchen. An upright piano, dark chocolate brown, sat in a niche to the right. The room at the end of the hall looked like it could be Agatha's bedroom. I could see a bed made up with a white chenille bedspread.

Ruby walked slowly down the hall, looking at everything. Clearly she'd never been in the house before. As in the kitchen, there was nothing personal in the hall. The hardwood floor was bare; there was nothing on the walls.

The double bed in the bedroom was made with the precision of a high-end hotel, the spread pulled tightly and with perfectly squared hospital corners. The night table held a clock and a box of Kleenex.

Ruby hesitated and pulled open the closet door in the wall to the left of the bed. The small storage s.p.a.ce was organized with the same precision as the rest of the room. Blouses, skirts and dresses were arranged from white to dark. Two pairs of shoes, one black, one beige, sat on a shoe rack on the floor. Several sweaters were folded on the shelf above the rod.

All of the clothing looked old. Not ”old” in the sense of worn-out, but in the sense of vintage. It was almost as though Agatha had gotten stuck at some point in time.

Ruby looked into the closet, one hand on the door. Her shoulders slumped. ”I don't know what to take.”

”Maybe a dress,” I suggested.