That single moment of ease evaporated.
'Yes. He was very helpful. He doesn't think Ashley is a ghost.'
I explained the psychologist's theory.
'Well, I find that easier to believe than the walking dead,' Joseph remarked when I had finished, 'though not much easier.'
'But you see the possibilities,' I said.
Joseph took a long sip of coffee, 'I-no, I don't think I do.'
'If Patrick can tap into the record of Ashley's thoughts and feelings, all I have to do is get him on the right page.'
'The right page?'
'Get him to connect with Ashley's thoughts on the day she was murdered.'
He slowly set down his cup. 'I see.'
'I'm taking him down to the pond as soon as we get home from school today. I'll talk to him about the day she died, try to get him to think about it, and hope that he taps into her memory trace. If Ashley saw someone when she was lured out on the ice, saw just a piece of clothing through the treessomeone's jacket, for instance-it could be an important clue. Maybe she noticed footprints or heard a familiar voice. I don't know what exactly I'm looking for, but there may be something in her thoughts and feelings from that time that could tell us who killed her.'
Joseph chewed thoughtfully. 'If someone killed her,' he said at last. 'Katie, I'm not telling you that she wasn't murdered, but I do worry that, without realizing it, you have turned a possibility of murder into a fact.'
I picked up my juice glass and swished it around, watching the little particles of orange swirl.
He went on. 'I think that-don't be offended-in a way, you want it to be murder. I understand why. It would explain a lot of things that are happening now to Patrick.'
I thought about Dr. Parker's warning: It is when we like our theories too much that we should be wary.
'The day Ashley died,' Joseph went on, 'she was distraught over her missing rabbit. And she was always an impulsive child. If anyone would have run across dangerous ice to catch her pet, Ashley would have. Remember, they found the rabbit when they drained the pond. And when the coroner examined Ashley's body, he found no sign of trauma.'.
'That doesn't prove anything,' I argued. 'No one had to touch her. All they had to do was lure her onto the ice. It would be easy enough to kill a rabbit and slide it out on the ice with a pole, leaving it there for her to see. A rabbit is light; ice that was soft enough to give way beneath Ashley could have held a rabbit.'
Joseph chewed some more, thinking, then set down his knife and fork, picking the crumbs off his plate with his fingers, licking the tips.
'What you're saying makes sense. Just remember that if you start out with the wrong assumption, you may misinterpret whatever follows.'
I nodded.
'So take Patrick to the pond,' Joseph advised. 'It can't hurt, and maybe it will help. See what he tells you. I admit, I'm getting curious.' He glanced down at his plate, which was now crumb less. 'Would you like another muffin?'
'No, but get one for yourself. I have some tea left.'
Joseph shoved back his chair. 'Wouldn't want to get thin,' he said.
As he headed toward the glass cases that ran along the back of the cafe, I gazed at the buildings across the street. In the fog, the Queen Victoria, with its second- and third-story porches, looked like a faded photograph of a nineteenth-century hotel. The illusion was broken when someone in a bright green business suit emerged from the entrance. She reached back and the man behind her put his coat over her shoulders. It was Trent-and the woman from the other day, the hotel manager, I assumed. They crossed the street and entered Tea Leaves.
Walking to the cases at the back of the cafe, they passed Joseph on his return to our table. I thought Joseph hadn't noticed them, but when he sat down he leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, 'Trent is seeing Margery?'
'I think so.'
He offered a toast with his coffee. 'Here's to women who know how to latch on to money.'
Trent glanced over his shoulder at us.
Unfortunately, the only table in the cafe available to them was close enough to ours to limit our conversation to Joseph's progress in organizing his mother's estate. I hope her soul was in better shape than her finances,' he kept saying.
He finished his muffin, and we rose to leave. I smiled and said hello to Trent as we passed his table. Just as Joseph and I reached the cafe door, Trent called to me.
'I had better see what he wants,' I said.
Joseph looked irritated and glanced at his watch. 'I've got to keep going. I have an appointment with Mother's no-good lawyer.'
'Thanks for listening, Joseph.'
'Sure, Katie,' he said. 'You know I'm just an old grouch and don't mean anything when I fuss.'
He left, and Trent rose from his seat, meeting me halfway aaoss the room. 'We'll go outside for a moment,' he said, taking my arm lightly and steering me in that direction.
I pulled my arm free, then glanced toward Margery. She showed the training of a discreet hotel manager, acting as if she hadn't noticed me and had come to the cafe to eat by herself.
When Trent and I were standing on the brick walk, he started right in. 'That's the second time I've seen you with Joseph Oakley.'
'And it's the second time I've seen you with her,' I replied, nodding toward his companion inside.
'I hope you are not involved with Joseph.'
'Involved? Don't you think he is a little too old for me?'
'I wasn't speaking romantically,' Trent said stiffly. 'I feel it is my duty, Kate, to tell you that Joseph is a dishonest man, an unreliable person. When you are young and naive, it is sometimes difficult to see people for what they are.'
'Oh. Well, since you are old and wise, what do you think about Sam Koscinski?' I asked. 'You were looking out the library window this morning, weren't you?'
'Yes.'
'You know he is the son of the private investigator your father hired after Ashley died, the man who was killed when pursuing my family.'
'Yes,' Trent replied, his lips barely opening.
'Why was Mr. Koscinski chasing my mother? Why wasn't he pursuing you as well?'
Trent's eyes shifted away from me.
'Both you and my mother were cheated on.'
Trent's face washed white. Some people redden with anger; he paled with it.
'You would have the same motive,' I continued.
'Motive for what?' he asked.
I ignored the question; we both knew its answer. 'Why do you think Ashley keeps talking to Patrick?'
'Patrick is an exceptionally spoiled and confused child,' Trent said. 'His behavior is easy to understand. It is yours that baffles me. On the surface you appear to care too much for the boy to want to make things harder for him.'
'I'm making things harder?' I exclaimed, so loudly that a person passing by turned around to look at us. I waited until the man had moved on. 'I'm not the one who-' 'You,' Trent interrupted, 'are the only one in the house who still has a choice in the matter. You can choose to let go of the past and encourage Patrick to forget about
