KAT DID NOT usually sleep in on a Saturday morning, but January 12th was no usual Saturday morning. The week before, and especially the day before, had been so exhausting that she had gone to bed at nine o'clock on Friday night and didn't wake up until nearly noon when she heard a persistent tapping at her door. She looked over at Genya's bed and saw that it was neatly made. Not a trace of her older sister: had she even come home last night?
The tapping continued, and then her mother's voice called, "Kat, are you awake?"
"Come in," said Kat.
Orysia walked in, holding a mug of lemon tea.
Kat sat up in bed and gratefully took the mug of tea from her mother.
"I need your help," said Orysia.
"Sure," said Kat.
"Mr. Vincent has asked that your grandfather come to the office this afternoon. They need to go over a few things before the hearing continues on Monday, and I would like to be there with him."
"Okay," said Kat, not quite understanding how she fit into all of this.
"I have a ton of things I need done, though," said Orysia. "And your sister isn't here. We need groceries, and more rags and paint from the hardware store, and I need to drop an envelope off at the bank."
"I can do all that for you," said Kat.
"That's what I was hoping," said Orysia. "I could drive you to the mall and you could call me when you're done, and I could swing by and pick you up, even if Mr. Vincent isn't finished with your grandfather."
"Sure," she said. It would have been a lot easier had Genya stuck around, thought Kat. At least she had a driver's licence.
When she got back from doing errands, Ian was sitting on the front steps, a rolled up paper bag on his lap. When Orysia pulled the car into the driveway, Ian stood up and walked over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door for her.
"Thank you," she said. "Have a good time tonight," she said, eyes sparkling mysteriously.
Ian grinned.
Kat watched this exchange with mild curiosity, then popped the trunk and grabbed one of the grocery bags. "Can you take this in?" she asked Ian.
"Sure," he said. He took it in one arm and held his rolled up bag in the other, and walked around to the back of the house.
"What's in your bag?" Kat asked, following close behind him with more groceries.
Ian grinned. "Something to take your mind off the hearing," he said.
Kat was intrigued.
She set down her own grocery bag and grabbed Ian's and set it on the table too. She looked out the window and saw that her mother had already backed out of the driveway and was heading back to Mr. Vincent's office for the rest of the meeting.
Ian handed her the rolled up bag. Inside was something black. Kat looked up at him.
"Lisa and I decided that you need a diversion," said Ian, grinning. "So we're taking you to The Savage Garden tonight."
"What?" exclaimed Kat. The Savage Garden was a club where people into Goth culture hung out.
"Don't look so worried," said Ian. "It's fetish night tonight, meaning all ages are allowed in."
"I don't know...." said Kat.
"I already talked to your mother about it," said Ian. "And she thinks you should go."
This hearing really must be affecting her mind, thought Kat. Since when did her mother approve of such things?
"She said she'd drive us all there and pick us up at the stroke of midnight," said Ian.
Okay, now it sounded more like her mother. "That would be great," said Kat.
"Lisa and I will come by at 9 and we can all drive down together," said Ian.
Kat watched in amazement as he walked down the street towards his own house.
As she unpacked the groceries, she noticed that the light on the answering machine was blinking. Kat pushed "play" and listened:
"This is detective Ann Marie Foulds. Would either Iris or Walter Baliuk call when they get in?"
As soon as Orysia got home, she called the detective immediately, and Kat could see her mother's shoulders relax in relief as she listened to what the detective had to say. "Good news and bad news," she said as she hung up the phone. "The good news is that Michael Vincent is not our graffiti artist."
"Thank goodness," said Kat. Her faith was restored in humanity. Yet hadn't the police said that they had caught him in the act? "How did they clear him?"
"His fingerprints don't match the ones from the graffiti," explained Orysia. "Which leads me to the bad news. They still have no idea who did it."
Frustrating, thought Kat. But she was so happy that Michael hadn't done it.
"Why don't you give Michael a call while I start supper?" suggested Orysia.
Kat called, but Michael seemed distant. It made her feel bad that she had ever suspected him.
"Can you come over Sunday afternoon?" she asked. "I could really use some feedback on an art project I'm thinking about."
"I'll see," said Michael.