R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone 18)

I finished my run and walked the last couple of blocks to cool down. When I reached home, I saw Mattie's car parked in Henry's drive. Oh goody. I let myself into my place, showered, dressed, and ate a bowl of cereal. As I left for the office, I picked up the tantalizing scent of bacon and eggs wafting across the patio. Henry's kitchen door was open and through the screen, I heard laughter and chatting. I smiled, imagining the two of them sitting down to breakfast together. I knew better than to think she'd spent the night with him. He's entirely too proper to compromise her reputation, but an early morning get-together was well within the purview of Emily Post.

I crossed the yard and tapped on the door frame. He responded, inviting me to come in, though his tone wasn't quite as chipper as I'd hoped. I let myself in, thinking Uh-oh. Henry had reverted to his usual dress code – flip-flops, white T-shirt, and tan shorts. The kitchen showed all the signs of a recent meal – dirty skillets and bowls, an array of spices near the stove. Dishes and utensils were piled in the sink, and the counter was gritty with toast crumbs. Henry was at the sink, running water for a fresh pot of coffee, while Mattie sat at the kitchen table engrossed in a conversation with William and Lewis.

I caught the dynamic in a flash and I could feel myself wince.

William had set this up. He'd been infuriated by Henry's attitude where Mattie was concerned. Lewis had no such qualms. I knew William had been chatting with Lewis on the phone, but I hadn't thought much of it. Now I had visions of his maneuvering Lewis onto the scene, assuming Henry's competitive instincts would kick in. Instead, Henry was reacting like a schoolboy, withdrawn and insecure in the presence of his brother's cockiness. Maybe William didn't care which of his brothers snagged Mattie as long as one of them did.

From what I knew of the family history, Lewis – two years older than Henry – had always asserted his superiority in matters of the heart. Neither Lewis nor Henry had ever married, and though I hadn't quizzed them on the subject, there was one reference I remembered. In 1926 Henry had taken Lewis's girlfriend away from him. Henry claimed Lewis had never fully recovered from the insult. Now, to all appearances, Lewis was finally mounting a retaliatory campaign. He'd made a point of dressing smartly – starched white shirt, vest, suit coat, his shoes shined, his trousers sharply creased. Like his two younger brothers, Lewis had all his hair and most of his teeth. I saw him as Mattie must – handsome, attentive, with none of Henry's reticence. The two brothers had met her on the same Caribbean cruise and Lewis had pursued her relentlessly. He'd signed up for Mattie's watercolor class, and while his efforts were crude, she'd admired his enthusiasm and his doggedness. Henry claimed he was only flirting, but Mattie didn't see it that way. Now here he was again, stepping into the picture just as Henry was making headway.

"Coffee?" Henry asked me. Even his voice sounded bruised, though he was covering as well as he could.

"Sure, I'll take a cup. Thanks."

"Mattie? Fresh pot coming up."

"Love some," she said, distracted by the anecdote Lewis was in the midst of telling. Henry wasn't listening. The story was probably one he'd heard before and he knew how it would end. I was so focused on Henry I didn't hear much of it myself. Lewis reached the punch line and both William and Mattie burst out laughing.

I sat down at the table and when the merriment subsided, I glanced at Mattie. "So what's up today? The two of you have plans?"

"Oh, no. I can't stay. I've got responsibilities at home."

Lewis slapped the table. "Nonsense! There's a show at the art museum. I read about it in the paper and I know it's one you'd love."

"What sort of show?"

"Blown glass. Extraordinary. It's a traveling exhibit the reviewer called a 'must-see.' At least stay for that. Afterward, we could have a bite of lunch at a Mexican restaurant right there in the arcade. There's an art gallery across the court you really should see. You could talk to the owner about your work. Maybe she'd agree to represent you."

William chimed in. "Fabulous idea. Don't go rushing off. Take a little time for yourself."

I felt my head swivel. William was beaming like a mother at a dance recital.

I said, "Uh, Henry? Could I see you for a minute? I've got a problem at my place."

"What sort of problem?"

"It's just something I have to show you. It won't take long."

"I'll look into it later. Can't it wait?"