The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(20)

                Louise was still there, looking ragged.

                “A man called you earlier,” she said, as if I had done something wrong.

                I nodded.

                “Your cop friend?”

                I picked up the papers from the out basket. “Thank you,” I said.

                Then I went down the stairs again. My cop friend. Were we friends? I wasn’t sure.

                I let myself back into the rectory. It smelled of toast, bacon, and coffee. Kaplan wasn’t sitting on my couch any longer. He was in my kitchen, scrambling eggs in my best cast iron pan.

                “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I haven’t eaten anything except cookies all day.”

                “I don’t mind when someone else cooks.” I looked at the clock on the stove—it was the middle of the night. I should have sent Louise home.

                Kaplan divided the eggs between two plates, then added bacon and toast. He handed me a plate which I gladly took. I was hungry, and that surprised me.

                I set the papers on the table as I sat down.

                He sat across from me, but didn’t read. Not yet.

                “She did this for almost fifty years,” he said, “and never got caught before.”

                “We don’t know that,” I said.

                “If she did, she got out of it.”

                I nodded slightly, a small concession.



                             “How could she get caught this time?” He believed her then. Or what little we knew about her investigation. Maybe the fact that he was supposed to cover up her death lent credence to everything.

                “Maybe the disguise didn’t work for an elderly woman,” I said. “Or maybe someone recognized her voice. We probably won’t know.”

                He had already cleaned his plate. I had barely touched mine.

                He picked up the papers, then went into the living room to read them. I finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen.

                It felt both strange and natural to have a man in my house again. To have a cop in my house. A benevolent cop. I need to stop thinking of every cop like the man who hurt me and remember how much my husband Truman had cared about the people around him. Truman was like most of the cops I had known. I needed to keep that in mind.

                When I finished the dishes, I went into the living room. Kaplan had rolled up the legal sheets and was holding them in his left hand. His right elbow was braced on the arm of the couch, and he was lost in thought.

                “What am I going to do?” he asked as I sat down across from him. “I’m a detective in a small city. I have orders from the chief of police to close this quickly. I don’t think he’s involved, but I’ll wager whoever is has money and clout and the ability to close the cases that he believes need closing.”

                “I know,” I said softly.

                “Sometimes,” he said, not looking at me, “you learn to close your eyes. But this….”

                He let the words trail off. Then he raised his head. His eyes were red-rimmed.