The Deer Leap by Martha Grimes Page B

She did. Jury pulled a can from the bag and opened it. Then he put it down for the kitten, who obviously had had its fill of cheese.
    â€œWhy do you carry — what’s its name?”
    â€œSam.”
    Jury nodded toward the book bag. “That’s got holes in it for air.”
    â€œI know. That’s to smuggle it in and out of the house. Sally”— and she inclined her head again —“wouldn’t let me have pets. Said they just dirtied the place up.”
    It sounded consistent with the little he’d seen of Mrs. MacBride. “That was smart of you.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t think it up. It was Carrie. She’s my best friend. She found the kitten in the woods and fixed the bag. It was yesterday.”
    It was almost as if the fact of the kitten, Sam, had brought about this tragedy. Now she was groping in the bag and brought out an apple. “Would you like this for your lunch?”
    â€œThank you,” said Jury gravely, as she handed it over. It was the first bribe he’d ever taken. “I don’t know Carrie. I’ve only heard her name. Is she a school chum, then?”
    Neahle laughed and put her hand over her mouth, which she smoothed out as if she were smoothing out her coat. Laughter in the house of death was hardly right. “No. Carrie doesn’t go to school. The Baroness’s secretary teaches her, or something. She’s lots older than me. Fifteen. I don’t know why she likes me.”
    Best friends, like kittens and aunts, could disappear easily in this world, her worried look said.
    â€œI can’t imagine why she wouldn’t. Age doesn’t make any difference.”
    â€œHow old are you, then?”
    â€œQuite old,” said Jury solemnly. Thinking of Fiona Clingmore, he smiled and added, “I’ll never see forty again.”
    Her eyes widened. “You don’t look nearly that old.”
    â€œThank you. Listen, Neahle. You know your aunt — Mrs. MacBride — was found in here.”
    Solemnly, she nodded, watching Sam now batting a tiny ball of wool she’d tied to the lamp cord for him.
    â€œDid you ever know her to come down here before?”
    â€œNo. No one comes here but me, and sometimes Carrie.”
    â€œOkay. When was the last time you were here?”
    â€œTwo days ago.”
    â€œDid you keep the door closed?”
    She looked puzzled.
    â€œI mean, was the knob missing from the inside of the door? Fallen off its iron stem?”
    She frowned. “I suppose so. I didn’t much notice.” Neahle scratched her ear. “It was dark.”
    If there’d been wind, it could easily have banged the doorshut. “Would you have been scared if you’d got locked up in here?”
    She seemed surprised. “Me? No. I like to come here and read and sometimes I go to sleep on the bed there.” She was watching Sam the kitten, now clutching the wool and swinging like a metronome from the lamp cord. “You could scream if you got locked up in here, but it’s so far from the house —” She stopped watching the kitten and put her head in her hands.
    â€œThere was a wind last night, too. Neahle, you can’t love everyone you think you should. When they won’t let you have pets, and have you do the cooking. Why should you?”
    She looked up at him. Then down. “You didn’t eat your apple.”
    â€œDid you ever know Sally to come here?”
    Neahle shook her head. “Why would she? She didn’t even want me to.”
    â€œMaybe she would to, say, meet a friend.”
    â€œLike men?” Neahle was trying to look worldly-wise.
    Jury smiled. “Like men.”
    Neahle scratched her ear. “Well, there’s that Mr. Donaldson. He’s creepy. Carrie says so. He works at Gun Lodge.”
    â€œAnyone else?”
    She chewed her lip and shook her head.
    Wouldn’t have mentioned Pasco, even if she’d known. Jury