Buy a Whisker (15 page)

My mouth hung open for a moment before I could speak. “Let him up,” I finally managed to say to Mac. “I know him.”

Mac got to his feet and pulled Vince up with him by one arm.

Vince was wearing jeans and a black hoodie. He was disheveled, his hair standing on end and the sweatshirt twisted to one side.

“What the hell are you doing, Vince?” I said, the fury rising in my chest leaving a sour taste in the back of my throat.

I was right in front of him, but he wouldn't look at me. “Last night you were thanking me for Asia's guitar, and tonight you're breaking in to my store.”

“I'm sorry,” Vince said, and finally he did look at me. “Things have been a little tight.”

“So you decided it would be a good idea to rob a friend?” Mac asked, his voice tight with anger.

“I knew you had at least a couple of guitars here that were worth some money,” Vince said. He
couldn't meet my eyes for very long. His gaze kept sliding away.

“Why didn't you ask someone for help?” I pulled a hand down over the back of my head. I was angry and troubled all at the same time, the emotions churning in my stomach. “I would have helped you. Sam would have helped you. Why would you do something like this?”

Vince swallowed hard and didn't say anything.

“What do you want to do?” Mac asked. He was still holding Vince by the neck of his hoodie. “I know what gets my vote.”

Part of me wanted to let Vince walk out the door. Another part wanted to call the police and let Vince spend the night in jail. I was furious. I was sad. I felt . . . betrayed. Then something sticking out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie caught my eye. It looked like . . . hair?

I reached over and snatched the dark wig—because that's what it was—from his pocket. It was one of the wigs that went with the KISS costumes I'd gotten from Sam. My hand was shaking as I held it up. I took a step closer to Vince. “I hear these things bring big money on the street.”

The color drained from his face.

“Cut the crap, Vince,” I said, my voice suddenly raw-edged with angry intensity. “Why did you really break in here?”

I could think of only one reason, and it made my stomach sick.

He didn't answer.

I looked away. “You can tell me or you can tell the police,” I said softly.

“I came to get that . . . wig.”

I focused on him again. “Why?”

“Because when the old guy Peterson was having lunch at the pub the other day, I heard him say he'd found security footage of the person who'd been hassling Lily Carter before she died.” His eyes met mine and stayed there this time. “I was afraid if you saw the video and then took a close look at the wig, you'd realize it was me.”

Mac muttered an oath and let go of Vince's arm.

“The mouse?” I said, staring at him. It couldn't be true. “The mixed-up salt and sugar? The eggs thrown at the front window? Everything? That was you?”

Vince nodded.

“Why?”

“Because Lily wouldn't sell.” His voice rose. His emotions were right at the surface. “She just kept using the same lame excuse that the development would be bad for the downtown. Do you know what it costs to keep my old man in that nursing home?” He didn't wait for me to answer. I knew he wasn't expecting me to. “Thousands every month. His savings are just about gone, and his pension just isn't enough. I've looked at other places, and believe me, you wouldn't put a dog in them.” His right hand was flexing and then squeezing into a fist at his side. Flexing and squeezing, flexing and squeezing. “The money Jon West was offering would have meant my
father could spend the rest of his life living with a little dignity. And he damn well deserves that.”

“I can't believe you would do something like that to Lily,” I said hoarsely, shaking my head.

“Yeah, well, I'm desperate, Sarah,” he said, and his mouth twisted to one side. “I hope you never know what that feels like.”

I got right in his face. “You don't have a monopoly on bad things happening to you, Vince,” I said. “Don't move. Not an inch. You try to leave and you won't have to worry about Mac handing you your head because I'll personally lay you out like a welcome mat at the front door.”

I gestured to Mac. We took a few steps away from Vince.

“What do you want to do?” he said.

I couldn't read his feelings in his face.

“We can call the police.”

“I don't know,” I said. Sam had been like a father to me ever since my biological father died, which in a weird way made Vince feel like family. I looked away for a moment and then met Mac's gaze again. I still had the wig in one hand, and I fingered the dark hair. “I'm having a really hard time believing that Vince was the one pulling those stupid tricks on Lily.”

Mac rubbed his left shoulder with his other hand. “I don't know the guy, so I'm not making excuses for him, but when people are desperate, they do things they would never do in other circumstances.”

“I'm going to call Sam,” I said. Maybe it wasn't
exactly logical, but I thought possibly Sam could talk some sense into Vince.

Mac's expression didn't change. “All right.”

“Do you think I'm wrong?” I asked as I pulled out my phone.

“Not my place to judge, Sarah,” he said.

“You never do,” I said. “Thank you for that.”

I turned and punched in Sam's number. When he answered, I explained what had happened. “If you can come and get him, I won't call the police.”

Sam muttered a couple of choice swearwords. “I'm on my way.”

I hung up and walked back over to Vince.

“Sam's coming to pick you up,” I said. “My options were him or the police. And the only reason I didn't call the police is because Sam's been like a dad to me and I know he considers you a friend.”

“Thank you,” Vince said so softly I could barely make out the words.

“I'm not done, Vince,” I said. My arms were folded across my chest, hands clenched. “You have twenty-four hours to tell Detective Andrews that it was you who was harassing Lily. I don't want her to waste her time in that direction when she doesn't need to.”

He nodded wordlessly. We waited the rest of the time for Sam in silence.

Sam didn't say a word to Vince, at least not in front of Mac and me.

“Thank you,” he said to Mac, offering his hand.

“Thanks for coming up here,” Mac replied. They shook hands.

“I'm not going to make any excuses,” Sam said, but he looked over his shoulder to where Vince was standing, shoulders slumped in his sweatshirt, by the back door.

“Good plan,” I said. I could hear the anger in my voice. I hadn't made any effort to hide it from Sam.

He leaned in and hugged me. “Thank you,” he said softly against my ear. “I know you did this for me.”

After they were gone, Mac and I walked back inside.

Mac studied me, narrowing his eyes. “I can see the wheels turning,” he said. “What's up?”

“I'm not certain yet,” I said slowly.

“You think Vince really did break in here to steal a couple of guitars?”

I shook my head. “No, I don't.”

“So he came to get that wig. So you wouldn't figure out he was the one harassing Lily Carter.”

I set the wig back in the box on the workbench. “Maybe. I'm not certain. I need to check on a couple of things.”

*   *   *

Sam had clearly been expecting I'd show up for breakfast the next morning. He had everything ready for blueberry pancakes, along with a chopped-up sardine for Elvis.

“Sam, what was that fund-raiser you loaned Vince the Rickenbacker for?” I asked.

He came over and poured me another cup of coffee. “Fairy Godmothers. They grant wishes to kids
who are seriously ill. Vince and Eric subbed for a couple of guys out of Boston who couldn't make it for the show.”

He topped up his own cup. “Vince donated his time. All he took was gas money, and not all of that. It's really hard to believe he was the one pulling those stupid stunts on Lily.”

“When was the concert?” I asked.

I could feel Elvis's green eyes on me, watching me as though he knew I was gathering information.

“The twenty-first, in Portland,” he said, returning the coffeepot to its burner. “Vince and Eric drove down, crashed with someone Eric knows and drove back the next morning. Why the third degree?”

“The twenty-first? You're positive? And they stayed all night?”

He slid into the booth on the seat opposite me. “Sarah, what's going on?”

“It wasn't Vince.”

“What wasn't Vince?” he said.

I speared the last bit of my pancake and ate it. “He wasn't the one who pulled those tricks on Lily. The twenty-first was the night someone egged the front window of the bakery. I know because I was there early the next morning. Vince couldn't have done it if he was playing in Portland.”

“So why would he say he did, then?”

I nodded as I set down my fork and reached for my cup. “Exactly. Why would he do that?”

“You think you know.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. I finished my coffee and
stood up. “I need to check something out. I'll call you.”

It was bitingly cold, so I'd arranged to pick up Rose. She was waiting outside Legacy Place with Mr. P.

“Hello, sweet girl,” she said. “Alfred is coming with us.”

“Good morning, Mr. P.,” I said as he got in the backseat with Elvis.

He was wearing a striped stocking cap and scarf that Rose had made for him, along with a heavy brown parka and the same kind of heavy, insulated gloves that Aaron Ellison wore when he plowed the parking lot. He reminded me of a ceramic garden gnome.

“Good morning, Sarah,” he said as he fastened his seat belt. “Thank you for picking us up.”

“You're very welcome,” I said.

“Good morning, Elvis,” Mr. P. said as I pulled away from the curb. I glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see him sneak the cat a tiny fish cracker. I shifted my eyes back to the road.

Avery and Liz were waiting for us in the lot. When I got out of the SUV, Avery climbed out of her grandmother's car and skidded across the parking lot toward me. She was wearing high-top sneakers instead of boots. “Sarah, can I work on the window today? Please, please, please. You don't have to pay me. I just want to get it done.”

It made me feel good to see her enthusiasm. “Yes, you can work on the window,” I said.

Mr. P. was carrying Elvis. I saw him exchange a smile with Rose.

“Yay!” Avery said, jumping up and down and almost falling. “I'll tell Nonna that she can get me at lunchtime.” She made her way back over to the car, arms windmilling, and somehow managed not to fall.

I put my things upstairs in my office, went into the staff room and filled the kettle before I went back down.

“The water's on,” I said to Rose.

“Would you like coffee, dear?” she asked.

I'd already had two cups at Sam's. “I think I'll have tea, please,” I said.

“I'll bring you a cup,” she said, patting my arm as she passed me.

I went into the storeroom. Avery was at the workbench. “Could you watch the front for a few minutes for me, please?” I asked.

“Sure thing,” she said. She'd left her usual stack of bracelets at home, but she had a new henna tattoo, a flowering vine that wound around her wrist and disappeared up the sleeve of her black T-shirt.

Alfred was already settled at the desk in the Angels' “office” along the back wall.

“Mr. P., could I take another look at that security video, please?” I asked. “The one from the camera at the bookstore.”

“Of course,” he said.

I waited while he clicked keys, and then he turned the laptop so I could see the screen. I studied the
figure carefully, trying to guess how tall the “fake” Jon West was based on the height of the door to the bakery. It wasn't Vince. It couldn't be. By my rough calculations the figure was shorter than Vince, who topped out at about six feet.

“Would you like to see it again?” Mr. P. asked.

I nodded, rubbing the bridge of my nose with two fingers. “Please.”

The second time through I was certain. “Thank you,” I said.

“Is there anything I should tell Rosie?” he asked.

I gave him a tight smile. “Not yet.”

He nodded. “All right,” he said. I could see the gleam of curiosity in his eyes.

I headed back to the store. It wasn't Vince in the security footage, but my suspicion about the person he was covering for was right. The figure in the denim jacket and long wig was Asia Kennedy. I was sure of it. It was Asia who had pulled all those stupid, childish tricks on Lily. What the heck had Vince been thinking, trying to cover for her by stealing that wig?

And then I had an awful thought. Was there more to it? Asia had been harassing Lily. I tried to swallow down the lump at the back of my throat. No. It wasn't possible. It wasn't. Asia was just a kid, a teenager. She couldn't have killed Lily, could she?

When Liz came to pick up Avery at noon, she brought Charlotte with her. She also brought food—roast-beef sandwiches from McNamara's. Since I had spent a big chunk of the morning priming the hutch, I was happy to see I didn't have to figure out lunch. Avery was still working on the front window. “I'll watch the store,” she said, “and the rest of you can go sit down and eat.”

Mac and I found a couple of small tables to push together, and then we carried over several chairs. Chairs were never a problem at the shop. It sometimes seemed as though they multiplied in the dark corners of the room.

Once we were all seated with sandwiches and tea—or coffee for Mac and me—Rose turned to Liz. “Tell us about the meeting last night.”

“It was just a lot of empty promises,” Liz said, making a dismissive gesture with one hand.

Charlotte nodded in agreement. “They seemed to have only two answers for any questions they were
asked—we're working on that and that's something we're still negotiating.”

“Do you think the project is dead?” Mr. P. asked.

“Yes,” Liz said, pulling the pickle out of her sandwich. “The only thing that's left to do is order flowers and plan the wake. Jon West was talking about expropriation again. I don't see how that's going to happen.”

I didn't say that maybe she was wrong. “What about you, Charlotte?” I asked instead.

“I'm not as certain as Liz is,” Charlotte said, playing with the teaspoon that was resting on her saucer. “Caroline was there. I talked to her for a minute.”

“I'm guessing Lily left the bakery to her,” I said, fishing an olive round from my sandwich and popping it in my mouth. “Did she say anything that made you think she might be willing to sell? Not that she'd be able to do that for a while.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No. But she didn't say she's not willing to sell, either. She is getting a lot of pressure from Jon West. At least that's what she told me. You know that there are rumors someone with money has invested in the project?”

“I heard,” I said.

“Do you know who this mystery investor is?” Rose asked.

Charlotte picked up her tea. “All I can tell you is that I've heard the Wellington Group mentioned, but that could be just a rumor.”

“That's somewhere to start,” Mr. P. said, glancing at Rose.

Rose leaned over and patted his arm. “Alfred will find something. Don't worry.”

Mr. P. smiled back at her. He had the look of a love-struck teenager, and I had no doubt he would do whatever it took to justify Rose's faith in him—which was not necessarily a good thing.

The conversation turned to other possibilities that had been floated over the years for development of the harbor front.

“You know what I don't understand,” Liz said, shifting sideways in her seat. “What changed for Lily?”

“What do you mean, what changed?” I asked.

“Well, it must be close to five years ago now,” she said. “There was another plan for revitalizing the waterfront. It didn't get as far as this one has, but I don't remember Lily having any problem with that idea.”

I remembered Jess mentioning the other waterfront proposal. “Maybe that project was smaller,” I said.

Charlotte looked at Liz. “Are you talking about that development company out of Vermont?” she said.

Liz nodded over her teacup. “That's the one.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Then no,” she said to me. “That plan for the harbor front was actually bigger than the North Landing project is. There was a problem with the development company. Their financing was a little too creative for some people. There was a lot of behind-the-scenes maneuvering, and suddenly the whole project was quashed.”

Liz brushed a few crumbs from the sleeve of her cashmere cardigan. “Lily definitely had no problem with that idea,” she said. She shrugged. “And there's no reason to keep it a secret. The person doing what Charlotte so diplomatically called ‘behind-the-scenes maneuvering' four years ago was me.”

“You, Elizabeth?” Charlotte said, her eyes widening with surprise.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Rose asked, her cup paused in midair.

“The Trinity Group were the main investors in that deal. I did a little digging into their finances,” she said. “Their portfolio was very shaky, not to mention they were being investigated by the IRS. They went bankrupt not long after.”

“Pyramid scheme,” Mac said quietly. “I remember the SEC investigation.”

“The whole thing was a house of cards,” Liz commented, looking around for the teapot.

“Maybe Lily just changed her mind about any kind of development,” Mr. P. said. “That kind of thing happens.”

Rose had gotten up to get the teapot, and she paused with it hovering over Liz's cup. “Alfred, are you saying that women just change their minds on a whim?”

Mac caught my eye across the table, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Of course not,” Mr. P. said smoothly. “I'm saying that as some people mature, what's important to them changes. Maybe that's what happened to Lily.”

Rose smiled. “You could be right.” She turned to Charlotte. “Do you think you could sound out Caroline and see if she knows what changed Lily's mind?”

“I can try,” Charlotte said. She folded her napkin and set it on her plate. “I just don't want Caroline to feel like she's getting the third degree. She's Lily's mother, remember.”

“You're the most diplomatic person I know,” Rose said as she poured another cup of tea for Liz. “I know you can figure something out.”

“Are you going to give her a trowel along with that line, Rose?” Liz asked.

Charlotte turned her head to look at her friend. “Liz, what on earth are you talking about?”

“Rose is laying it on a little thick,” Liz said.

“Are you trying to tell me I'm not diplomatic?” Charlotte said. Her hackles were up.

Liz waved the question away with one hand. “Heavens, no. You're far more diplomatic than I am.”

“Everyone's more diplomatic than you are,” Rose retorted.

Avery burst into the room then. Her hair looked like something Elvis might have dragged around the parking lot. There was a smudge of dirt, or maybe it was makeup, on one cheek and a huge smile on her face.

“The window's done, and you have to see it!” she exclaimed.

I got to my feet. “Okay, then. Let's go.”

I took a step toward the shop doors, and Avery put up both hands to stop me.

“No,” she said. “You have to go around and see it from the front to get the full effect.”

“Then that's what we'll do,” Rose said. “I can't wait to see what you've done.” She patted Avery on the cheek and started for the back door.

“Kiddo, do you know how cold it is outside?” Liz asked.

Avery's face fell.

Mr. P. got to his feet. “A little cold can be very invigorating,” he said.

Mac smiled as he stood up as well. “Yes, it can, Alfred,” he said.

Liz pushed back her chair. “I like to be invigorated as much as the next guy.” She smiled at her granddaughter. “Let's go.”

We all cut through the parking lot and went to stand on the sidewalk in front of the store.

“Oh. My” was the only thing I could think of to say.

“I like it,” Rose proclaimed. “Do you think Avery could do an Aerosmith window?”

Liz had her arms folded across her chest. “You're not going to remind us about the time Steven Tyler's mouth had two tongues and yours didn't have any—are you?”

“You're just jealous,” Rose said with a saucy grin.

Alfred looked puzzled. “You dated Steven Tyler, Rosie?” he asked.

“It was just a fling, dear,” she said, patting his arm.

Avery had faithfully re-created all four of the members of KISS down to Paul Stanley's Starchild makeup and—heaven help us—his chest hair. She'd stenciled
A
KISS
IS
STILL
A
KISS
on the window in red letters.

Mac turned to look at me. He didn't even try to stifle a grin.

“Don't you dare say the word ‘interesting,'” I hissed.

“I like it,” he said.

“She managed to connect a metal band,
Casablanca
and Valentine's Day,” I said. “I like it, too.” There wouldn't be another Valentine's-themed window like it anywhere in town.

“Can we go back inside?” Liz said. “My girls are freezing.”

“I'm all right,” Rose said as we made our way up to the front door.

“I wasn't talking about you,” Liz said, pointedly crossing her arms over her chest.

Rose rolled her eyes as she figured out Liz's meaning. “Oh, for heaven's sake,” she said.

Avery was waiting for us in the shop, too twitchy to stand still.

“Sweetie pie, you did a wonderful job,” Rose exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug. “You make me want to run off and become a groupie.” She turned and smiled at Mr. P. “Not that I'm going to.”

“Charlotte helped a lot,” Avery said. “She did the Paul guy's chest hair, and she styled all the wigs.”

Rose turned her smile on Charlotte. “Good job,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Absolutely,” Liz said. One eyebrow went up and she gave Charlotte a sly smile. “Nice work with the chest hair.”

“What about me, Nonna?” Avery asked. “Do you really like it?”

“It's fantastic,” Liz said.

Avery threw her arms around her grandmother. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” Liz said. “Would I lie to you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Avery said. “You said you liked the smoothie I made for you yesterday and then I caught you pouring it down the sink.”

Liz kissed the top of Avery's head. “Smoothies have fruit and yogurt, ice cream even. They do not have kale. Kale is not something we're supposed to drink.”

“It's going to get people's attention,” Mac said. He gave her a fist bump.

Avery looked at me. “Do you like it, Sarah?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “You did a great job.”

I glanced at Charlotte. “You too.”

Rose was standing beside me, and I put my arm around her shoulders. “You know what this calls for?” I said.

“Cake!” Avery, Mr. P. and Liz said at the same time.

I raised my eyebrows and looked down at Rose. “Tomorrow's moving day, but maybe after that you could christen the oven in your new apartment.”

Rose clasped her hands together. “What a wonderful idea.” She linked her arm through Avery's and started for the storeroom. “What do you think we should make?” I heard her say. “Lemon chiffon or maybe angel food with fruit and whipped cream?”

“I'll go clean up,” Charlotte said.

I smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“I'm going to see what I can find out about this Wellington Group,” Mr. P. said.

The phone started to ring. “And I'm going to get that,” Mac said.

Only Liz and I were left, standing just inside the door. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said.

“For what?” I asked.

“For letting Avery fill your front window with four aging rock and rollers, or at least a reasonable facsimile of them.”

I looked over at the window. “I like it. I'm not just saying that. She did a good job. It'll get people talking. It'll bring in business.”

“I'm so glad you came home,” Liz said.

I smiled. “Me too.”

I was right about the window. Another ski tour on the way out of town after lunch stopped when someone on the bus spotted the “band” in the window. Forty-two people piled out and stood on the sidewalk to check out the band. The tour guide, a man in his twenties wearing a navy ski jacket and a knit Red Sox hat, came inside.

“Your window display's fantastic,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I
could see Avery by the cash register, grinning and looking like she was about to come out of her skin with excitement.

A middle-aged woman opened the door and poked her head inside. “Can we take a look around?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Did you do the band?” she asked, walking over so she could see the display from the back.

I shook my head. “Two of my staff did.” More people were coming in behind her.

The woman took a couple of steps closer to me. “I did them, you know,” she confided. “Well, two of them.” She turned down the waistband of the gray spandex pants she was wearing.
KISS
was tattooed on her left hip.

“Good for you” probably wasn't the most appropriate answer, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.

We ended up doing more business than we'd done in the store in the entire month of January.

Avery stayed to help, eating up the compliments on her work and answering questions with enthusiasm and maturity.

It was a few minutes after closing time when the bus pulled out of our parking lot.

“I can't believe they all liked the window,” Avery said with a satisfied smile, leaning against the cash counter.

“I told you that you'd done a good job,” I said.

“I'll get the vacuum and start cleaning up,” she said, pushing herself upright.

I walked over to Charlotte, who was straightening up a display of wineglasses and charms.

“Thank you for helping Avery,” I said. “She's so excited.”

“I didn't really do much.” Charlotte smiled. “Avery did most of the work.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You always say that,” I said. “And you're always wrong.”

Mac came in from the storeroom. “What time are we starting in the morning?” he asked.

Sunday was moving day for Rose, the only day we were all free to help her.