Part 25 (1/2)

I fingered the seam along the arm of the imitationleather chair. ”I don't know what I'm looking for, really,” I said. ”Something I can use to help Ruby. The only thing I have to go on is an old report-card envelope. And now it's disappeared.”

Roma picked up her cup again and took a long drink. I could see she was weighing her words before she spoke, so I waited without saying anything. She leaned forward in the chair. ”Kathleen, one thing I can tell you about Agatha is that she was an extremely private person. She didn't share anything of herself with people. I'm sorry, but I just don't think that envelope is the key to who killed her. I think you'll find out it would've been meaningless to anyone but her. It could've been papers from the rehab center. It could've been something she saw in the newspaper.” She reached over and broke off half of one of the remaining granola bars. ”Have you talked to any of the people you saw arguing with her?”

”I talked to Eric,” I said with a shrug.

”What did he say?”

”That he wasn't arguing with Agatha and he didn't know what was in the envelope.”

”I'm sorry,” Roma said. ”I think you're looking in the wrong place.” She stood up, brus.h.i.+ng crumbs off her jeans. ”I think the whole thing's going to turn out to be a horrible accident.”

What could I say? That I was positive the envelope did matter because Hercules had found part of it in Eric's office? ”Thanks,” I said.

”We'll figure out a way to help Ruby.”

My phone rang then.

”Go ahead,” Roma said. ”I need to get going. I'll see you in cla.s.s tomorrow night.”

I got the phone the fourth ring. It was Maggie.

”I just wanted to let you know that Ruby is out on bail,” she said.

I sank onto my desk chair. ”I'm so glad to hear that.” I felt some of the tension drain out of my body.

”We're going to have a late lunch here at the studio. Could you come? Ruby wants to thank you in person for calling Everett.”

I quickly ran over the staffing schedule in my head. I was fairly sure I could take a late lunch.

”I think I can come,” I said. We agreed on one thirty and I hung up, swinging around in my chair to look out the window at the clouds, low and heavy and probably full of snow.

I'd talked to Eric about Agatha. I was going to see Old Harry tonight.

It was time to talk to third to the third person I'd seen arguing with Agatha.

Ruby.

19.

There were a few flakes of snow blowing around when I headed down to the art studio. Ruby got to her feet and came over to me as soon as I walked into the room.

”Thank you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. ”I didn't think I needed a lawyer, which wasn't very smart.”

”You're welcome,” I said. ”But all I did was make a phone call. The credit should go to Everett.”

”I already thanked him.” She slid a stack of brightly colored, knotted bracelets up and down her arm. ”Kathleen, I didn't hurt her.”

”I know that,” I said. ”They'll find out what really happened.”

We walked over to Maggie's worktable. Mags was in the middle of an animated conversation with one of the other artists who shared studio s.p.a.ce on that floor. She gave me a smile and kept on talking.

”How can anyone think that I would hurt Agatha?” Ruby asked, as I shrugged off my coat. ”She changed my life.”

”Ruby what were you doing that night? Is there anyone who saw you or talked to you?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer: If Ruby had talked to anyone or been with anyone, the police wouldn't have arrested her.

”I was home by myself, just watching a DVD,” she said quickly.

I looked at her without speaking. She flushed and looked away. ”That's a lie. I was sitting in the dark, eating cookie dough,” she said in a small voice. ”I wasn't on my computer. I didn't answer the phone.” She let out a breath. ”I had a fight with Justin. He drove me home and we got into it. He left, and I was going to walk down and get my truck but instead I just sat around eating half-frozen chocolate chip cookie dough.” She finally looked at me. ”Pretty stupid, wasn't it?”

I shook my head. I couldn't help remembering my first few weeks in Mayville Heights after I'd left Andrew back in Boston. I'd spent a fair amount of time sitting in the dark, eating raw cookie dough myself. And ice cream and gobs of jam on English m.u.f.fins. ”It's not stupid,” I said.

”If I had answered the phone or I checked my e-mail I'd at least be able to prove I was there.”

”We'll figure something else out.” I looked around the room. Maggie was still talking. Justin was deep in conversation with a man whose suit and tie pegged him as Ruby's lawyer. I was surprised to see Peter standing by one of the tall windows. In his dark suit and white s.h.i.+rt, his hair back in a ponytail, I almost hadn't recognized him. Maybe he was there to represent Agatha's son. I took a deep breath. ”Ruby, I need to ask you something,” I said.

”Sure, what is it?”

”Last week, I saw you in the parking lot of the library with Agatha.”

She stiffened. ”You probably did,” she said carefully.

”You were arguing about something.”

”It doesn't have anything to do with her death,” she said with an offhand shrug. ”It was nothing.”

I knew that wasn't true. She'd answered too quickly. I was getting so sick of hearing that the arguments and the envelope meant nothing when it was so clear they did.

”No, it wasn't,” I said. ”That brown envelope she was holding on to so tightly? It's disappeared.”

The color drained from Ruby's face. ”Agatha's death was an accident,” she said. ”Someone was driving too fast or driving when they'd been drinking and they ran her down, panicked and took off.”

”Maybe,” I said. ”But maybe not.”

Ruby looked stricken. ”You think . . .” She had trouble getting the words out. ”You think someone killed Agatha deliberately?”

”I don't know.” What I left unsaid was that Marcus Gordon thought so, and that was what mattered.

”Even if that's true, it couldn't have been because of what was in the envelope.” She shook her head emphatically.

”Why?” I didn't even try to keep the aggravation out of my voice. ”What was in that stupid thing, anyway?”

”I can't tell you,” she said.

”Ruby,” I said, leaning closer to make my point. ”The police think you killed Agatha. This is a very bad time to be keeping secrets.”

”It's not my secret to tell,” she said stubbornly.