Part 29 (1/2)

”Doesn't necessarily mean anything,” she said. ”I never smelled alcohol on Chloe's breath. She always smelled like Juicy Fruit gum, which, of course, explains why I didn't smell alcohol on her breath.”

”So how did you figure it out?”

”Aside from her showing up drunk at a rehearsal and doing a grand jete into the orchestra pit?” Mom asked dryly. ”She was sneaky, evasive. She disappeared for long stretches of time and no one knew where she was. She used to go to this little hole-in-the-wall bar to drink, where no one in her real life would catch her. She'd lie and then tell a lie to cover the first lie. And on and on.”

My head ached. I rubbed my temples with the heel of my hand.

”I remember one time Chloe missed rehearsal. Then she tried to tell me she'd been out researching urban street dancing and lost track of time.”

”Where was she really?” I asked.

”An hour and a ferry ride away, drinking homemade wine with some new friends she'd met at the d.i.n.ky little bar,” Mom laughed. ”I'm pretty sure that wine was the reason the term 'rotgut' was invented. Oh, the child paid for it, though, believe me. Ever have a headache so horrible it looked like you were permanently crosseyed?”

”I, uh . . . Thankfully, no.”

”Am I helping at all?”

”You are,” I said. ”And I'm sorry I have to go, but I have tai chi.”

”Call me soon,” she said. ”I'll be keeping my fingers crossed. I love you.”

”I love you, too,” I said, and hung up.

Based on what my mother had just said, I felt that I was on the right track. Eric and his friend most likely had been drinking somewhere other than in town. The thing was, where?

I pulled on my coat and boots and headed for tai chi. I was running late.

I had my head down, watching for slippery spots, which is why I turned the corner at the bottom of the hill and b.u.mped-literally-into Marcus.

”Sorry,” I said, pus.h.i.+ng my hat up off my forehead and talking a step back. ”I wasn't looking where I was going.”

”It's okay,” he said. ”I'm taking up most of the sidewalk. I didn't hit you with my bag, did I?” He had a large black hockey bag over his shoulder.

I shook my head.

”Where are you headed?” he asked as I s.h.i.+fted my own bag from one shoulder to the other.

”I'm on my way to tai chi cla.s.s.”

”I'm headed to the marina. I'll walk with you.”

”You're going over to the Winterfest site?” I said, as we started along the sidewalk. Then before he could answer I remembered. ”Oh, that's right. It's the all-star game.”

Another tradition of Winterfest, I'd learned, was the all-star hockey game, the best of the police and fire departments against the high school stars. ”Good luck,” I said.

”Thanks.” He paused to let a half-ton truck make a left turn in front of us and into an alleyway, automatically putting his arm out in front of me. ”You've seen my puck-shooting ability. So I'll take all the luck I can get.”

”You're a good skater,” I said. ”You just need to antic.i.p.ate a little more with the puck.”

He shot me a puzzled look. ”Antic.i.p.ate?”

”When someone has the puck, watch his body language, especially his feet. A guy will fake right with his body, but if you check his feet he's already headed left.”

He nodded. ”Thanks. I'll try it.”

We were almost at the tai chi studio. ”How's the case?” I said.

The last bit of a smile on his face disappeared. ”You know I can't talk about that with you.”

”Ruby didn't kill Agatha.”

”You're not the first person to tell me that.”

”Maybe you should listen.”

”Are you digging around in the investigation?”

”You know I can't talk about that with you,” I said lightly.

That brought the smile back out just a little. We stopped in front of the co-op building.

”Have a good game,” I said. I took a couple of steps toward the door and then I turned back toward him. He was an irritating person, but he was a good, conscientious police officer. ”Marcus,” I said. ”I don't know if this matters or not, but Ruby's truck isn't the only truck like that in town.”

”What do you mean?” he asked, stamping his heavy boots on the snowy sidewalk.

”I mean there's more than one truck exactly like Ruby's. Same make. Same model. And bought at the same time, from the same dealer.”

He sighed, ”Kathleen-”

”Stay out of the case,” I finished. ”There were six trucks. Six identical trucks sold to people who live in this area or who did. And at least one of them is still around.” I held out both hands, then turned and went into the building. He didn't come after me.

I didn't know what Marcus would do with what I had told him, but I'd played fair. And for some reason that mattered to me.

Ruby was at the top of the stairs, taking off her coat. ”Hi,” she said. She looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting away from my face.

”Hi.” I put my bag on a hook. ”I talked to Harry,” I said. ”He told me what was probably in that envelope Agatha was carrying around, and he told me that he asked you to talk to her for him.”

She met my gaze directly then. ”So you understand why I couldn't tell you?”

”I guess I do.”

She tucked her gloves in the sleeve of her coat. ”I wish I knew where that envelope was.”

”Maybe it will turn up,” I said, thinking of Hercules spitting that soggy piece of paper into my hand. That reminded me about the photo fragment he'd found in Ruby's apartment. Could that be a picture of Harry and Agatha's child? I'd forgotten all about it.

Ruby touched my arm. ”Kathleen, you zoned out there for a minute. Are you okay?”

”I'm sorry. It's just . . . I may have a picture of the baby.”

”What?” Her mouth actually hung open.