Buy a Whisker (21 page)

I nodded. So was I.

Liz and I drove back to the shop. Rose was waiting by the back door.

“Well?” she said to Liz as I stopped to stomp the snow off my boots on the mat.

“We rattled his cage,” Liz said, heading into the storeroom.

Rose trailed her. “But did you find out anything?”

“Daniel Swift is mixed up in this somehow,” Liz said.

“But do you know how?” Rose persisted.

Liz stopped, turned and looked at her friend. “Not yet.”

Rose looked at me.

“Liz is right. Daniel Swift has a connection to Lily's murder. But I don't know what it is, either.” I hated to think that Sloane might have done something to Lily. Could she have changed that much?

“There's something else I need to tell you,” I said. “Daniel Swift is the investor behind the Wellington Group. I got my dad to do a little digging.”

Rose turned her attention to Mr. P., who was in his usual seat in the Angels' “office.” “The answer has to be in the footage from the security camera at the bank on the end of the street. Alfred just got it this afternoon.”

“Do I want to know how?” I said.

Liz rolled her eyes.

“Probably not, dear,” Rose said, patting my arm.

I looked at Mr. P. “Keep going,” I said.

“Don't worry. Alf can do this,” Rose said.

He sat up a little taller in his chair.

“I'm going to go find Mac,” I said. “Let me know if you find something.”

Mac and Avery were in the shop, both waiting on customers. Avery raised a hand when she caught sight of me and walked over to meet me. “She's interested in the twelve-string,” she said, indicating the woman she'd been talking to who was holding a Gibson guitar very similar to Sam's and trying a few chords. She was mid-fifties, wearing jeans tucked into leather boots and a dark red duffle coat. “She's looking for a deal, but don't be fooled by the clothes. She can afford to pay more than she's offering.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Avery glanced back at the woman and saw she wasn't paying any attention to us. “She's wearing a vintage watch that's worth about three times the cost of that guitar. She also has a rose gold bracelet and earrings that aren't exactly cheap.”

“Very observant,” I said. “Do you want to close the deal?”

She nodded.

“Go ahead, then,” I said.

I nodded to Mac, who was showing a customer my favorite slipper chair, and headed upstairs. Elvis was sitting in the middle of my desk. “Merow?” he said.

“I think Daniel Swift's fingerprints are all over this,” I said, peeling off my jacket and dropping onto my office chair. The cat lifted a paw, studied it for a moment, then licked it.

I laughed at the symbolism. “And, yes, he does seem to think that he doesn't have any dirt on his hands.” I sighed. Maybe we'd get lucky and Mr. P. would find something.

When I went back downstairs, both Avery and Mac had made their sales. “I'll get the vacuum,” Avery said.

Mac came over to me. “How was your meeting with Daniel Swift?”

“You should have seen Liz,” I said, pulling a hand through my hair. “She was fierce.”

“Did you find out anything useful?”

“Aside from the fact that I wouldn't want to play poker with Daniel Swift? No.” I sighed. “He's mixed up in this, though,” I said. “Do I sound like Rose if I say I just know it? In here.” I put one hand on my chest.

“No,” Mac said. “I think in the end you have to go with your gut.” He gestured in the direction of the storeroom. “I forgot to tell you. I have someone interested in that hutch you've been working on.”

I'd ended up painting the big piece of furniture. The shelves were a pale gray called Foggy Morning and the rest was a deep marine blue. The salvaged ring pulls had worked perfectly on the louvered doors.

Mac named a figure that made me blink. “That's twice what I expected to get,” I said. I grinned at him. “Didn't you say something about me making a mistake buying that hutch from Cleveland?”

“No comment,” he said with a smile.

I locked the front door, and Mac and I straightened up while Avery vacuumed. When I went out into the workroom, I found Rose and Liz looking over Alfred's shoulder. I walked over to them.

“Did you find anything?” I asked.

Rose shook her head. She gestured at Mr. P.'s laptop. “Just a woman.”

“Let me see,” I said.

Alfred hit several keys, and black-and-white footage began to play. It took me a moment to orient myself; then I saw I was looking down at an angle at a section of the street that included the front door of the bakery. How on earth had the old man gotten the bank security video? Once again I decided that ignorance was bliss.

After a moment I saw a woman at the door. Was it Sloane? She turned her head, and I saw that it was. My heart began to race

“Keep watching,” Mr. P. said softly.

I kept my focus on the screen, and then I saw Lily as well. From her body language, it was clear she
was ordering Sloane out. Just the way she had said. I felt the knot of anxiety in my stomach loosen.

“Is there any sign of Daniel Swift?” I asked.

“Not so far,” Mr. P. said. “But I have a lot of this to fast-forward through.”

“Could I give you two a ride home?” I asked. Rose shook her head. “Thank you, dear,” she said, patting my arm absently. “Charlotte is going to pick me up. We have plans.”

“I'd better go hurry Avery along if I want to get home and dig into a big plate of kale and chickpeas,” Liz said. She reached over and patted my cheek. “Thanks for coming with me, toots.”

“I will be your sidekick anytime,” I said solemnly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She headed for the shop.

“Love you, Liz,” I called after her.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, everybody does,” she said, not even turning around.

Avery left with her grandmother. Charlotte picked up Rose and Alfred, and Mac, as usual, decided to walk. I corralled Elvis and headed home.

The cat immediately headed for the kitchen. “I'm going to change first,” I said. My running clothes were folded on what I thought of as Elvis's chair. I knew I should get dressed and go for a run, but I really didn't want to. The conversation with Daniel Swift kept running like a loop in my head.

I was staring at the contents of my refrigerator, wondering if there was any new way to make an egg and tomato sandwich, when I heard a knock at the door. It was Nick.

He was holding something wrapped in one of Charlotte's quilted bags.

“Care package from my mother,” he said. “Ham and potato scallop.” He handed over the bag. “She said it might need a minute or two in the microwave.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Your mother must be telepathic. I was just standing in front of the fridge, wishing there was something in it to eat . . . that I could cook and have it still be edible.”

Nick laughed. “Saved by a casserole dish of potatoes.”

“C'mon in,” I said. He followed me inside, and I set the bag of food on the counter.

Elvis jumped down from his perch on the top of the tower.

“Where did you get that?” Nick asked, walking over for a closer look. “That's nice work.”

“Alfred Peterson made it for me,” I said.

Elvis meowed indignantly. “Excuse me, he made it for Elvis.”

Nick ran a hand over the smooth dark wood. “Alfred did this? Wow.”

“He appears to be a man of many talents.”

Nick smiled. “I don't doubt that. At least this one's legal. Which reminds me: Do you know anything about a brief glitch in the firewall at First National Bank yesterday?”

I shook my head. “No.” I didn't
know
anything. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Nick crossed the room and came to stand in front of me. “So how's the detecting going?”

“They haven't given up, if that's what you're asking,” I said.

He shrugged. “I've kind of given up on that happening.”

I pushed back the sleeves of my T-shirt. “Were you around when Caleb Swift disappeared?” I asked.

He nodded. “I remember that. They found his sailboat adrift and no sign of him or of any foul play.”

I looked up at him. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but do you think there's any chance that Caleb Swift is alive?”

“Have you been drinking?” Nick asked, narrowing his brown eyes at me.

“No,” I said. “I know it sounds a little out there.”

“And I think I know where the idea came from.”

“You think it's impossible.”

“I do,” he said. “If Caleb were alive, his grandfather would have found him. Sarah, the old man broke his ankle just after Thanksgiving and had to have it pinned. He ran Swift Holdings from his hospital room. He doesn't give up. He couldn't find Caleb because Caleb is dead.” He frowned at me. “Why the interest anyway?”

“Lily,” I said. “I'm grasping at straws.”

Nick smiled. “Yeah, you are.”

Elvis jumped up on a stool, put a paw on the counter and sniffed at Charlotte's bag.

“Get away from that,” I said. I turned back to Nick. “Would you like to join me . . . us? I know
Charlotte. There's more than enough food for two people.”

“Thanks,” he said, “but I'm meeting a couple of the guys down at The Black Bear to watch the game. Rain check?”

“Absolutely.” I walked him to the door. “Thanks for bringing the food,” I said.

He smiled. “You're welcome.” He hesitated. “I know you want to see whoever killed Lily brought to justice. So do I. But she wasn't killed by a dead man, Sarah.”

I nodded.

“How about dinner sometime next week?” he said, pulling on his gloves.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Good. I'll call you.”

We said good night and he left.

Elvis was still sitting on the stool, eyeing the food from Charlotte.

“Merow!” he said.

“Give me a minute,” I said.

The cat made a sound a lot like a sigh.

I warmed up half the scallop and ham and put the rest in the fridge for another night. Then I took my plate and sat on the couch with Elvis beside me mooching tiny bites of ham.

“Nick's right, you know,” I said. “If Caleb Swift were alive, the old man would have found him.” I remembered the elder Swift in his office, so arrogant as he talked to Liz. I tried to imagine him running his company from a hospital bed.

The potato scallop was delicious, tender potatoes in a creamy sauce with mushroom and onions. I wondered if Rose could actually succeed in teaching me how to cook. No one else had been able to. Not my mom. Not Gram. Liam could cook. The last time he'd been in town, he'd made coleslaw and pulled-pork sandwiches on Mom's sourdough bread.

Sourdough bread.

What had Daniel Swift said about Lily? I closed my eyes and tried to hear the conversation in my head.
Do you really think I care about some small-town baker making her little loaves of sourdough bread and hoping we'd all hold hands and sing “Kumbaya”?

Elvis leaned sideways so his furry face was in my field of vision. “Murp?” he said inquiringly.

“How did he know?” I asked.

The cat looked around a bit uncertainly. I pointed a finger at him. “Asia told me that Lily was making sourdough bread. How did Daniel Swift know that if he wasn't there? She didn't make that regularly.” I shifted Elvis on my lap. “He was there.”

“Murp,” he said.

My logic was a bit ropy, but I decided that was a yes.

“So how did he get in the building? He wouldn't have been stupid enough to walk in the front door.”

As far as Elvis was concerned, if there was no more ham to mooch, the conversation was over. He jumped from my lap onto the old steamer trunk I was using as a coffee table. His back foot hit my cell phone and sent it to the floor. It skidded under the
front of the club chair opposite the sofa and out the back, coming to a stop against the baseboard.

Elvis dropped his head and gave me his remember-how-cute-I-am face.

“You're not in trouble,” I said, waving a hand at him in a placating gesture. My focus was on the phone. It had slid all the way under the chair and out the other side.

And suddenly I knew. “That's how he did it,” I said.

Was it Liz or Charlotte who had told me about the buildings along the street by the bakery? They had all had connected basements at one time. That's how Daniel Swift had gotten into the bakery. That's how he'd killed Lily.

“He broke his ankle,” I said slowly. “I don't see a man like that using crutches, but maybe a cane.” I remembered the conversation I'd had with Nick, all hypotheticals. Could a cane have caused Lily's head wound? It seemed possible to me.

“I have to call Michelle,” I said. I got up to retrieve my phone, and there was a knock at the door.

“I bet that's Rose,” I said. She'd been planning on spending the week with Charlotte so she could get the apartment organized, but I knew she was eager to be all moved in. I scooped up the phone with one hand and turned to open the door with the other.

Daniel Swift was standing there. “Hello, Sarah,” he said. Then he pointed a gun at me.

I took several steps backward. I didn't really have a choice. Elvis hissed at the man, his ears flattened against his head.

“What a stupid animal,” Swift said. “I should have guessed you'd be a cat person. Cats are devious. I don't like them.”

I bent down and picked up Elvis. “Maybe you don't like being reminded of your own duplicity,” I said.

My heart was thumping in my chest, but if Liz could stand up to this man, then so could I.

“You know,” he said flatly. At least there was no beating around the bush.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “And so do the police.”