"I'll speak to Grace," Ida said. "She might know more than she's saying."
"Good luck with that," Patrick called over, still typing.
"Well," I said. "If I can't find my own cat, I suspect I'm not exactly ready to be a PI. Nor am I ready to investigate Ms. Conway's disappearance. But I'd like to try."
"With Gabriel's help, of course," Walter said.
"Er . . . yes, Gabriel has offered to provide--"
"You'll be working with him, won't you?" Ida pressed. "I haven't seen him around. I hope that doesn't mean anything. We were so happy to see you two together."
"We were never . . . together," I said. "It's a business partnership--"
"Yes, yes. I mean working together. You still are, aren't you?"
"Liv?" Patrick raised his mug. "Break's over, isn't it?"
While he was giving me a way out of this conversation, I could tell this was important to the elders. They might tease about me becoming a PI, but they knew I needed Gabriel for this.
"Yes," I said. "I'll be working with Gabriel."
Ida smiled. "Excellent. Then we'll provide you with anything we can."
As I walked up behind Patrick, he lifted his empty coffee cup as if he recognized the sound of my steps.
I retrieved the pot. "I'm officially still on lunch," I said as I filled his mug.
"Which means you'll get a much better tip today. In fact, I think I'll double it."
"Awesome. What's double of nothing?"
He smiled. "My favor is much more valuable than any monetary reward."
"Good, because I need to draw on that favor." I sat down across from him. "You know some Welsh, right?"
"I do." He closed his laptop. "Let's step outside."
"This will only take a second. One word. Maybe two--I can't tell with Welsh. It sounds like coon anoon."
Patrick went still, and the hairs on my neck rose. I turned to see a half-dozen pairs of old eyes fixed on me. They all glanced away quickly, as if I'd imagined it, but was I imagining, too, that the noise level had dropped to nothing? As if no one wanted to miss what I said next? Which would be a little creepy, if that wasn't par for the course in Cainsville. For a bunch of folks past retirement age, they all have very good hearing--or top-notch hearing aids.
"You know the word?" I asked Patrick.
"Say it again?"
I did. He frowned, his eyes going to the side as if accessing memories. That frown didn't go away, which told me he wasn't finding what he was looking for.
"It sounds vaguely familiar, but no."
"You know Welsh, Patrick?" said a voice beside us.
I looked over to see Ida looming as much as a woman barely over five feet tall can loom.
"Liv said you know Welsh?" she said.
"I'm a man of many talents."
"But you don't know what Cwn Annwn means?" I said.