Despite his newfound love for sarcasm, I was happy Lucas was staying over. The events of the day had left me on alert. So much so that I couldn’t sleep, no matter how many guided meditations I played in my earbuds. Lucas and JJ weren’t having the same issues. JJ was curled up on the pillow above my head, his tail resting over his eyes. Lucas snored, just a little.
We seemed to spend more time here at Grandpa’s full house, even though Lucas was the one who lived alone. He had a little cottage that he rented on the harbor, and he’d saved money by renting the place for a year and convincing the landlord to average out the crazy rent she charged in the summer months with the super low winter payments. All told, it came to something that resembled reasonable. Yet he spent most of his time over at our place, since I felt guilty leaving Ethan and Grandpa to fend for themselves with the cats and the construction. The cats were a lot of work, and even with Adele pitching in most days, there was a lot of cleaning to do. And not a lot of volunteers, unfortunately.
Luckily, Lucas was understanding. Truth be told, I think he liked hanging out with us. We were crazy, but we were tight. And he seemed to like that.
By the time we’d finally gone to bed around midnight, neither Grandpa nor Leopard Man had emerged from the basement. I hadn’t seen any updates to the news on the guy in the water no matter how many times I’d refreshed the Chronicle website, and the whole thing was making my imagination run wild.
I hated when I couldn’t sleep. And I hated not knowing what was going on in my town. Most of all, I hated when Grandpa kept secrets from me. We were a team. Always had been, but that bond had strengthened since I’d returned to the island. When I’d come home this past summer, I’d discovered Grandpa was close to losing his house. We’d put our heads together and powered through it, and, dare I say, we’d emerged more than victorious. Not just on that occasion, either. I’d definitely picked up some of his investigative and problem-solving skills.
But he was still a cop at heart, and a good cop played his cards close to his chest until it was time to reveal them. So that’s what he would do. Even if it meant keeping those cards out of his granddaughter’s sight.
This train of thought wasn’t helping me sleep. I eased my way out from under Lucas’s arm and slid out of bed. Maybe some tea would help. Ethan had just picked up some lemon balm tea, which he swore was amazing for you. I’d tried it once and it had tasted kind of blah, but maybe if I loaded it up with honey it would be better.
I grabbed my iPad and headed downstairs, turning on lights as I went. I poked my head into the cats’ room, earning some blinky-eyed stares from all the cats who’d been sound asleep. “Sorry, guys,” I said softly. “Just checking in.”
I closed the door behind me and headed to the kitchen, where I put water on and took out the honey. As I waited for the water to boil, I fired up my iPad and went to the Chronicle site again. All they had was a short blurb about the man in the water, last updated at 9:15 p.m. Police had been called to the marina around 7:00 p.m. due to reports of someone in the water down by the marina, medics were on the scene, no further information. I guess Becky hadn’t been successful in prying more out of the cops yet, either. I wondered if the police even had anything more so early on or if the person hadn’t been identified yet.
With a sigh, I flipped the cover shut on my iPad and went to make my tea as the kettle began to whistle.
As I pulled it off the stove and the shrill sound faded, I heard footsteps outside the kitchen door. Grandpa? He was up late.
I put the kettle down and poked my head into the living room. And froze when I saw Leopard Man walking slowly from the direction of the basement, holding his leopard hat and heavy leopard-print boots in his hand so as not to make noise, to get to the side porch, which would let him out into the yard instead of onto the street. My eyes traveled to his feet. His socks were, to my disappointment, plain black. Like the kind of socks someone named Carl would wear.
He heard the kitchen door swing open and froze, then slowly turned to look at me.
We both stared at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded at me. “Madalyn.”
“Hi,” I said. “Are you … leaving?”
He nodded.
“Oh,” I said. “It’s late. And cold out.”
He smiled, a little. “I have a warm coat.”
“I guess you do,” I said.
He didn’t seem to know what else to say, either. We both just looked at each other for a few minutes, then he turned to go. I decided not to ask why he wasn’t using the front door. I assumed it had to do with our earlier visit from Daybreak’s finest. I wasn’t sure what hiding from them tonight accomplished. This was a small island—he could only hide for so long. Especially in those outfits.
“Hey. Do you want some tea first?” I blurted out, just as he reached for the door. I had no idea what made me offer tea right now, but maybe he’d take me up on it. Maybe he’d come sit and tell me all about how he went from being someone named Carl to someone who called himself Leopard Man, spoke in Shakespearean, and attached a tail to his pants. And why tonight he was more of a Carl than a Leopard Man. I’d noticed earlier he wasn’t wearing his tail.
He paused, as if considering the idea, then turned back to me with a small smile. “‘I would give all my fame for a pot of ale,’” he murmured softly.
I smiled a little. I didn’t know all the plays, but I liked hearing the words come out of his mouth. It made me feel a bit better. “I can find you some beer,” I said. “I’m sure Grandpa has some.”
He held up a hand. “Thank you. Tea would actually be lovely.”
“Okay then.” I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen.
After a moment’s hesitation, he set his boots and coat down and obliged.
I got an extra mug out and held up two choices—Ethan’s lemon balm and a basic chamomile. He pondered for a second, then chose the lemon balm.
“Ethan would say that’s a good choice,” I said, plucking out the tea bag and plopping it into the mug.
Leopard Man smiled. “The hippie,” he said with a wink.
I smiled. “That’s really what everyone calls him, huh.”
“Most people,” Leopard Man agreed. “But it’s said with no malice.”
“Well, that’s good.” I set his mug down and searched through the cabinets for a snack. The best I could come up with was Ethan’s gluten-free coconut cookies. I held the box up, a question.
Leopard Man took this question seriously also. “If you indulge, I’ll join you,” he said.
I didn’t need an excuse. I put the box on the table and sat across from him, spooning a generous amount of honey into my cup. I took a sip and burned my tongue.
Cursing, I put the mug down.
He grinned. “‘How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?’”
“Yeah, it’s always been my downfall.” I grabbed a cookie and watched him prepare his own tea. He carefully measured out about half a spoonful of honey, stirred it meticulously, then lifted the tea bag with his spoon and pressed the rest of the flavor out. Twining the string around it, he carefully set it aside on his napkin, gave the liquid another stir, then set the spoon aside.
Raising his mug, he lifted it in my general direction as if toasting me, then took a sip, smacking his lips together. “It should be cooler now.”
I was kind of fascinated watching him. We hadn’t really hung out like this, ever. I know Grandpa shared coffee and conversation with him regularly, but I was more likely to either bump into him on the street or encounter him here in the cafe, usually when I was busy working. Our interactions, while always pleasant, were usually short.
Jasmine, the kitty who’d cuddled with Jason Holt, sauntered into the room and went straight for his lap, as if he’d sent out a telekinetic cat call. I had to smile when she lifted her face and nuzzled his chin, where a short scruff grew.
I’d never been quite sure how old Leopard Man was, but up close and personal, without his leopard hat and other loud clothing, I could see he was probably older than I’d thought. Not quite Grandpa’s age, but older than my dad. His blond hair was streaked with gray, and he had fine lines around his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Are you okay?” I blurted out, without even really thinking about it.
He didn’t react, just took another slow sip of his tea while he observed me over the rim of his mug. “Why do you ask?”
I didn’t want to say, Because the police were looking for you and you were hiding in my basement, so I shrugged, self-conscious now. “I don’t know. Because you’re here late and I saw you talking to that woman before.” That last part I hadn’t expected to say, but now I leaned forward, desperate to know. “Who is she? Do you know her? Did she tell you about JJ and her crazy theory?” It all came out in a whoosh.
But Leopard Man remained unfazed. He took a cookie out of the box and ate it before he responded. “I am fine, thank you for asking, Madalyn. That’s really all I can tell you.”
I bit my lip in frustration. “But you knew something had upset me today. How did you know?” I pressed.
“‘The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together,’” he murmured.
I wasn’t sure if he was even speaking to me, since he was staring at his tea. Plus, that didn’t tell me much other than I should’ve paid more attention in my college lit classes because I didn’t know what that was from, either. Why wouldn’t he tell me what he knew about her?
“I hope you know,” he said finally, slowly, “that your family means the world to me.” His eyes were locked on mine, and I noticed, not for the first time, that they were catlike, with sparks of yellow and green accentuating the light brown. “Now. It’s late. I should go. I hope you are able to sleep after your tea. I’m sorry for disturbing your evening.”
And with that, he drained his mug, set it on the table, and left the kitchen. I followed him to the door of the kitchen and watched as he slipped out the door, almost noiselessly. I moved to the window overlooking the backyard, but the moon hid behind the heavy fog and I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anything.
Almost like he’d never been here at all.