Chapter Thirty-Nine

“I need tea.” Kate hoisted herself onto the barstool and planted her elbows on the counter.

It was nearing eight o’clock in the evening and the Old Firehall Café was populated by only a smattering of customers. Cutlery clinked and voices murmured gently. The air tasted of baking.

Nearby, Tim and Will took up the table for four. They each had a battered backpack at their feet and their outer layers bundled across the extra chairs. The surface of the small table was sprinkled with a layer of crumbs. In the center was a thick slice of Neil’s chocolate fudge cake, along with two coffee cups, two plates, and two detective novels. They ate in glum silence. Even the brim of Tim’s baseball cap seemed to be drooping.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” Neil remarked.

“It’s been quite a week so far. I’ve still got some accounting to do at the store. I only came by for sustenance. I’ll have an Assam tea to go. And a chocolate chip cookie.”

Neil began measuring tea, then glanced at the boys. “Another milk, lads?”

Tim nodded, his chocolate stained lips set in an unhappy line.

“No luck with the gnome mystery yet?” Kate asked them sympathetically.

They exchanged a glance. “No.”

They ducked their heads and turned their attention back on the cake. Tim and Will never passed up the chance to discuss mystery, murder, and intrigue. Something was wrong. She looked from Penelope to the boys, and suspicion dawned.

The door to the café banged open. The pleasant murmur of voices and clinking cutlery cut off abruptly. A fork fell to the floor.

Ponderous footsteps crossed the room to the sofa. Fabric and wood strained, groaning beneath a massive weight. Along with everyone else in the room, Neil had his eyes trained on the corner of the room behind her. Kate didn’t have to look to know who it was.

She sighed. “Make that two cups.”

“Sure.” Neil handed her the tea.

She paid for the drinks, her eyes on the boys. “Thanks.”

Tim and Will watched her approach their table with uneasy expressions. Tim swallowed abruptly, choked on a crumb, scrabbled for his cup, and downed the rest of his milk.

Kate set down the drinks between the books and the cake, spun a chair around, transferred its contents to the other and straddled it. She rested her elbows on the chair back and leaned forward. “I’ve got a few questions for you.” She lowered her voice to an appropriately conspiratorial whisper. “About the case.”

“What do you mean?” Will shifted and tugged at the collar of his t-shirt.

“Just confirming some facts. Getting things straight.” Kate smiled. “Mind if I take a look at your notebook for a second, Tim?”

Tim watched her warily. Will hesitated.

Tim kicked him lightly under the table and nodded. “Do it.”

The book was tugged out of a bag and slid across the table to her.

Kate flipped the worn cover open. Scanned the notes scribbled in a loose scrawl, the pencil almost etched into the paper. “You’ve narrowed the time of Sleepy’s demise down to the hour between four and five o’clock p.m. Right?”

“Right.” Will rocked back in his chair. It swung before balancing precariously on two legs.

“And the garden was unwatched from four o’clock on.” She looked up, waiting for verification.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed reluctantly.

“Both of you were at Penelope’s house from the time school ended until four forty-five.”

“You can ask Grandma. She looked at the clock. She’ll tell you the same thing.”

“A water-tight alibi.” Kate nodded, blandly. “Then you walked back to the house afterward, arriving within about ten minutes, and discovered the corpse.”

“Uh huh.”

“Did anyone see you on your way home?”

Tim and Will exchanged an uneasy glance. Tim said, “I’m sure there was someone outside at that time.”

Will leaned toward Tim and whispered something. He raised his eyebrows and waited. Tim thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Neil,” Will announced finally. “He was signing for a delivery. We waved to him.”

“That should be easy enough to check up on.” Kate turned. “Neil?”

“Yeah?”

“Last Friday afternoon, do you remember seeing Tim and Will on their way home from Penelope’s?”

“Sure.” He grinned at them.

“What time was that?”

Will sucked in a breath through his teeth. Tim clamped a hand over his arm in warning. They tensed. The chair rotated slightly in the air.

“Now, let me think.” Neil frowned, thoughtfully. “A delivery, you say. I can check the time.” He pulled a small calendar out from beneath the counter, thumbed through it. He ran a finger down the page, tapped it. “Four thirty.”

There was an expectant, tension-filled pause.

“You’re certain the delivery wasn’t late?”

“No. I looked at my watch when they arrived. Spot on, as usual.”

“Ah ha!” Kate said, triumphant.

Will yelped, all four chair legs crashed to the ground. Will shot forward, bracing himself with both palms against the edge of the table. His breath came in little staccato gasps, and he had flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears. Tim hunched his shoulders.

Kate paused, lowered her voice. “So, in fact, you must have left Penelope’s around 4:20 and therefore had ample time in which to get home, distribute the fake blood, set the scene and clean up afterward. It’s convenient having a witness who can’t see and refuses to wear glasses. Easy enough to convince her you were leaving at five. Or did you change the clocks beforehand?” She leaned forward. “Am I right?”

Will nudged Tim in the side. “She knows,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t prove anything. It’ll never hold up in court.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Kate said. “The only person I have to convince is your father.”

Shocked silence.

Tim nodded, defeated. “You’re right, Kate. We killed Sleepy.”

“Conscientia mille testes,” Kate murmured, remembering Henry’s words.

Tim leaned forward, suddenly intense. “But we didn’t kidnap him!”

“Who did?”

“I’m not naming any names.” Tim shook his head, a stubborn set to his jaw. A miniature martyr in denim.

“Okay.”

“I found out who had him, and…kind of…bribed him,” he looked at her uncertainly, trying to gauge her reaction to this further piece of criminal activity, “to turn the gnome over to me.”

“You bribed him?”

“You don’t know what some people will do for chocolate,” Will told her with a grin.

“Dairy milk?”

“Marshmallow cream. What are you going to do, Kate?” Will asked, his face pale beneath the last faint traces of summer sun.

Kate thought, making them wait. It wouldn’t hurt for them to suffer a little. “I thought you said only bad guys killed people, Tim?”

“Sleepy isn’t a person, Kate.”

“That may be so, but you both know what you did was wrong. You concealed information, bribed someone, staged a murder, lied, and misused the power of the divining stick. Those are serious charges.”

“We just wanted to practice investigating,” Will explained.

“Turns out it’s no fun when you know who did it.” Tim slowly removed his hat. He stared at it sadly. Tugged at the strap, fingered the brim wistfully, then tossed it on top of the books. “I don’t deserve the cap.”

“We’re going to go to jail.” Will moaned and dropped his forehead to the table.

Kate’s mouth twitched. She hurriedly rubbed at her nose.

Tim crossed his arms over his chest and waited bravely.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Kate made sure her expression was suitably sober. “You have twenty-four hours to confess your crimes to your father, Tim. I want both of you to go together and explain everything.” Two hopeful pairs of eyes lifted to her face. “If you don’t, I will, and I’m sure he won’t be happy to hear it from me. You are going to clean up Sleepy as best you can, and re-touch the areas that are ruined. I want the gnome better than new. And you have to apologize to Penelope. Got it?”

“It was my idea.” Tim drew himself up in his seat. “I’ll go alone.”

“No way.” Will shook his head vehemently. “I’m coming with. We’re in it together.”

They did a solemn, complicated handshake and nodded. They looked like two front-line soldiers about to face enemy fire.

Kate rose. “And Tim?”

He looked up, his expression resigned.

“Keep the cap.” Kate grinned. “You’ll make a great detective someday, so long as you don’t play both parts. Let someone else be the villain.”

He shrugged and tugged at his ear, embarrassed. A pleased smile crept over his face.

Kate grabbed the tea and paused next to the sofa on her way to the door. The man glanced at her.

“Come on, then. Time to close shop.”

She handed one of the cups to the large red-haired man. He lumbered to his feet. “Elegantly handled, Rowan,” he said.

“Thank you. Are you sure you don’t have anywhere else you’d rather be?” She asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

Kate slanted her eyes at him.

“No, I’m not leaving,” he said placidly.

“Fine. At least tell me your name.”

“Percival.”

“Well, Percival, how long do you think this relationship is going to continue?”

Silence.

“You are a man of few words.”

Percival shrugged and blew on his tea.