Buy a Whisker (5 page)

Nick laughed and shook his head. “You spend too much time with my mother.” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously. I'll walk you.”

“You don't have to do that,” I said. “I promise not to break any laws on the way there.”

He smiled at me. “Do you remember what I told you the last time I walked you home?”

That had been more than three months ago. But I remembered. “You said, ‘I am my mother's son.'”

“Uh-huh,” he said, turning up the collar of his jacket, “and you said that we both get that same look when we've got our minds set on something.”

“In other words, don't argue.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

I pulled up the zipper of my coat, pulled the sleeves down, and tied my scarf a bit tighter at my throat.

With a hand still on my arm, Nick moved me to his left side and tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow. “Just so you don't get any ideas about breaking the law when we have to cross the street.” The smile went all the way up to his dark eyes.

We walked back to the corner, crossed over and headed down the street in the direction of my house. I was acutely aware of the warmth of Nick's body beside me, and it seemed I could still smell his aftershave. My heart seemed to be beating a lot faster than made sense.

This was stupid, I told myself. This was Nick I was walking arm in arm with, not some romance-novel cover boy. Nick, whom I'd known since I was
a kid. Nick, who once wiped his nose on my
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
T-shirt.

I realized he'd just said something to me and I'd missed it. “I'm sorry. What did you say?” I asked.

“I just asked if you and Jess were going to be at the pub Thursday night. Where were you?”

“I was just thinking that you still owe me a T-shirt. A
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
T-shirt, size medium.”

“I don't think so,” he said.

I leaned sideways and looked up at him. “Excuse me. I beg to differ. You wiped your nose on mine. You got boy cooties—and worse—all over it.”

He stopped walking. “First of all,” he said, holding up one gloved finger, “my mother washed that T-shirt. It was fine. Second of all, I was making social commentary when I wiped my nose on your shirt.”

“Social commentary?” I said, struggling not to laugh.

Nick pulled himself up to his full six-foot-plus height. “Yes. Social commentary. Maybe you don't remember, but you tried to say that those Mighty Morph-whatever Power People could take on the Justice League. Wiping my nose on that shirt was my way of showing my disdain for your opinion.”

“Mighty Morphin Power
Rangers
,” I said, putting the emphasis on the last word. “Not Power People. And for your information, the Rangers could have wiped the floor with the Justice League.”

Nick gave a snort of laughter. “Not likely.”

“I have one word for you,” I said. “Megazord.”
Then I pressed my free arm diagonally across my chest.

“What? Are you about to swear some kind of oath? The code of terrible teenybopper kids' shows?”

“The
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
is classic TV,” I said. I tapped my jacket with one finger. “I have a T-shirt on under this, and I'm protecting it from you.”

Nick started to laugh, and he pulled me back against his side. “I missed this, you know,” he said as we started walking again.

“Being reminded about your dubious taste in superheroes?” I teased.

He scrunched up his nose at me. “No. I mean being with someone who knows me so well. It's nice.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.

“And, yes, Jess and I are planning on Thursday-night jam. You want us to save you a seat?”

“Please,” he said. “I'm not on call.”

I bumped him with my shoulder. “Are you bringing your guitar?”

“Are you?” he countered.

“Point taken,” I said.

“We should get together and play sometime,” Nick said. “My mother thinks you spend too much time working.”

I laughed. “She says the same thing about you.”

“That's because she wants grandchildren.” He steered me around a slippery patch on the sidewalk.

“She told you that?” I asked.

“Not directly. She just points out every baby she sees when we're out anywhere.”

I bumped his hip with mine. “Oh, you poor thing,” I said with mock concern.

“I'm not going to get any sympathy from you, am I?” he said.

I shook my head. “Nope. I work with your mother and Rose, and Liz is in the store all the time. They're always trying to stage-manage my life.” I smiled up at him. “Suck it up, big guy.”

He laughed and pulled his hat down over his forehead a bit more with his free hand. “So what's new with you?”

“Not much,” I said. “The store's been a little quiet, but we're getting more traffic on the website.”

“Do I dare ask what's happening with Charlotte's Angels?” he said. “If I ask Mom, she changes the subject.”

After they'd “solved” Arthur Fenety's murder last spring, Rose, Liz and Charlotte had decided to open their own detective agency, Charlotte's Angels, Discreet Investigations, the Angels for short. They'd set up their office in the sunporch at the store. Winter had moved them inside to the far end of the back room.

“They haven't had any big cases,” I said. “I think they found someone's missing teeth.”

Nick sighed. “Tell me you're kidding.”

“I wish I were,” I said.

We turned a corner. “I thought they'd give up this whole private detective business.”

I shook my head. “Liz, Rose and your mother. You really thought they'd just ‘give up'? Did you grow up somewhere else?”

He made a face. “I know. Wishful thinking on my part. Tell me how the work is going in the old garage. When I talked to Liam, he said he got you some shelving for storage.” Nick and my brother were good friends.

“He did,” I said. “Four big wall units. They're in great shape and the price was terrific. All I need now is for him or Dad to come for the weekend and help me get them up. It's more than Mac and I can do alone.”

“Let me know if I can help,” he said.

“I will. Maybe I can lure him to town with the chance of hanging out doing gross boy stuff with you.”

Nick nodded. “Now that I think about it, it's been way too long since Liam and I have spent the evening down at Sam's. I'm a pretty good wingman, if I say so myself.” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a sly smile when he said “wingman.”

“I don't want to talk about Liam's love life,” I said, shaking my head. “I don't want to think about it. As Avery would say: Ewww!”

We walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Did you miss it when you were gone?” I asked. “North Harbor. Everyone.”

“You know, at the time, I would have said I didn't.” He looked down at me. His mouth moved as though he were trying out the feel of what he
wanted to say before he said it. “Now I realize I did,” he said. “More than I knew.”

We talked about the changes in North Harbor in the years we'd both been away, and suddenly I realized we were in front of my house.

I let go of Nick's arm. “Thank you for the walk home.” I yawned, tried to stifle it and failed. “I'm sorry,” I said. “It's not the company. It's just been a long day.”

He smiled. “You're welcome. And thank you for
your
company.” He looked up for a moment at the blue-black night sky shot with stars. “It's good to be home,” he said when his eyes finally met mine again.

We looked at each other, the moment stretching out between us. Then Nick cleared his throat and glanced over at the house. I'd left the outside light on. “You'd better get in. It's cold out here.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, just below my hat.

I headed for the steps, fighting the urge to touch the spot with my fingers. I turned at the door and raised one hand in good night. Nick did the same and then turned and headed down the sidewalk.

I gave in and put my fingers to my forehead. Was it just my imagination that I seemed to still be able to feel the warmth of his lips?

*   *   *

Avery was waiting by the side door of Liz's house in the morning, standing under the outside light, huddled into her giant parka and big polar fleece
mittens, hugging a square tin covered with pink peonies to her chest.

“It's so freakin' cold,” she said as she climbed into the passenger side of the SUV. “Can I have hot chocolate? Please, please, please?”

“Yes,” I said. “If Lily doesn't have any made, we'll stop somewhere and get you some. How did the cake turn out?”

She threw back her hood and smiled. “So excellent.” She set the rectangular tin on the seat between us. “This is for coffee-break time this morning,” she said. “There's enough for everybody.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you, Avery. You didn't have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” she said, fastening her seat belt. “Rose gave me that look. You know the one I mean, where she wants you to do something nice, but she doesn't say it because she wants you to do it without being told.”

I did.

Avery flipped through the radio stations as we drove down to the bakery. I parked directly in front of the shop and we got out. I peered through the front window, but there was no sign of Lily at the counter getting ready for her day.

“That's odd,” I said.

Avery shrugged. “Maybe she forgot we were coming.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, although that wasn't like Lily at all. Then again, neither was last night's outburst.

Avery tried the door. “Hey, Sarah, this is open,” she said.

That was wrong as well. I felt a prickle of apprehension. “Go wait in the car,” I said, stepping past her.

She gave me her “stupid adult” look. “Uh, not likely,” she said, following me inside.

I called out Lily's name a couple of times, but there was no answer.

“Maybe she's in the kitchen and has her iPod on or something,” Avery offered.

It was possible, although I'd never seen Lily with an iPod.

I pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. The lights were on, but there was no sign of Lily anywhere. And there were no loaves of bread cooling on racks. No cinnamon rolls waiting to go in the oven. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Then I saw the door down to the basement was open.

I turned to look at Avery. “Just stay right here,” I said. “Without giving me a hard time for once. Please.” Something in my voice or my face must have told her not to argue this time.

I walked over to the open basement door, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Lily was at the bottom of the basement stairs. There was blood on two of the steps. I didn't go down to check on her. I could tell from the angle of her neck that she was dead.

I turned around and hustled Avery back out to the SUV.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Just go,” I said, putting one hand in the middle of her back and pushing her ahead of me while I fished my cell phone out of my pocket with the other.

We got as far as the sidewalk before Avery braced her feet. She swung around to face me and crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on,” she said. She had the same stubborn look I'd seen many times over the years in her grandmother's eyes.

“There was . . . an accident,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

“You mean Lily's dead,” she said flatly, “because if she were just hurt, you'd be in there helping her.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Yes,” I said. “Lily's dead. Please go sit in the car while I call 911.”

Avery looked over at the bakery. “All right,” she said after a moment. She started for the SUV.

“Avery,” I called after her.

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at me. “Keep your phone in your pocket for now, please.” I didn't want her to text her friends with the news before the police had a chance to contact Caroline.

After a moment's hesitation she nodded. “All right.”

I turned my back to the SUV, swallowed against the sudden sting of tears and called 911.

The first patrol car arrived in minutes. I explained about finding Lily's body. The officer asked me to stay outside and went in to have a look for himself. After that things got very busy, very quickly. Avery and I waited in the SUV and watched the action swirl around us. When I saw Michelle's car pull in at the curb ahead of us, I nudged Avery.

“I'm going to talk to Detective Andrews for a minute,” I said.

Detective Michelle Andrews and I had been best friends growing up, at least for two months of the year. We were both summer kids in North Harbor, and each year we'd just pick up the friendship where we'd left off the previous summer. Then at fifteen Michelle had suddenly stopped talking to me. It wasn't until last winter that I'd found out why. Now we were slowly rebuilding our relationship.

“So stay here,” Avery finished. “Yeah, I know.”

Michelle smiled when she caught sight of me.
“Hey, Sarah. What's going on?” she asked. She was wearing a dark navy parka and heavy-soled boots. A cardinal-red hat was the only spot of color I could see on her. Michelle was tall and lean with red hair and green eyes. Everything looked good on her.

“I came to pick up five dozen rolls for the hot-lunch program at the elementary school.” I stopped for a moment, seeing Lily's body at the bottom of the basement steps in my mind. “Lily . . . Uh, there was no sign of Lily anywhere. I found her at the bottom of the basement steps. She's dead.”

Michelle's eyes shifted to the bakery for a moment and then came back to me. “Did you touch the body?”

Lily had already gone from being a person to a body. I reminded myself that Michelle was just doing her job. “No,” I said.

She frowned. “How did you know she was dead, then?”

This time I was the one who looked away for a moment. “I don't think anyone's neck could be at that angle and still be alive,” I said quietly.

“I'm sorry, Sarah,” she said, laying her hand on my shoulder for a moment.

I brushed a strand of hair back off my face and took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening again. “It's all right. Better it was me that found her and not her mother.”

Michelle nodded. “Okay, tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

There really wasn't that much to tell, but I went over everything that had happened from the time I'd
picked up Avery until the patrol car arrived. As I finished, Nick Elliot's black SUV angled in at the curb in front of Michelle's car. He got out, grabbed his gear from the backseat and walked over to us.

“Hey, what's going on?” he asked.

“It's Lily Carter,” Michelle said.

He swore, almost under his breath. Then he looked at me. “Sarah, what are you doing here?”

“I was picking up rolls for the hot lunch at the school,” I said, rubbing my gloved hands together. “I, uh, found her.”

“Hey, I'm sorry.” His free hand moved as though he was going to touch my arm, and then he stuffed it in his jacket pocket like he'd suddenly thought better of it.

“Sarah, where's Avery?” Michelle asked, looking around.

I pointed toward the SUV. “She didn't see anything,” I said. “We both came back outside as soon as I realized Lily was dead.”

“I'm just going to talk to her for a second,” she said.

I realized she probably wanted Avery to corroborate my story. Friends or not, she had to do her job.

She looked at Nick. “I'll see you inside.”

He nodded.

I watched Michelle walk down the sidewalk to my car. Avery was already getting out. I turned back to Nick.

“What happened?” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

I pulled my scarf a little tighter around my neck. It was so cold our breath hung in the early-morning air like little smoke signals. “I don't know. When we got here, there was no sign of Lily. The door was unlocked—which was wrong. Lily never unlocks that door before seven thirty. We went in and . . . she was at the bottom of the basement stairs.”

Nick swiped a hand over his chin. “If they're like the stairs going down to most of the basements along here, they're an accident waiting to happen—skinny steps, high risers. I don't know why we haven't had more accidents like this.”

I looked down at the sidewalk and scraped at a chunk of ice with the toe of my boot.

“What is it?” he asked.

I looked up at him. His head was tipped to one side, and there was concern in his brown eyes.

“Nick, maybe this sounds crazy, but I know Lily's morning routine. I'm in here early at least a couple times a week, getting rolls for the school or coffee and a muffin for myself. She wouldn't have left that front door unlocked, and she wouldn't have been on those stairs, not in the morning. She always got everything ready for the next day before she left at night.”

Nick shifted the silver case he was carrying from one hand to the other. “She could have forgotten about the door, and people don't always stick to their routines.”

I shook my head. “You didn't know Lily. She did things the same way all the time. All the time. She
told me once she thought maybe she was a little OCD.” I stamped my feet on the brick sidewalk. The cold was beginning to seep through my heavy boots. “If it were anyone else, I'd agree with you, but not Lily. And you have to have heard how much upset there's been over her refusing to sell for the North Landing project.”

“Wait a minute. You think someone killed Lily?” he said, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

I remembered what Jess had said about desperate people doing stupid things. Killing Lily went way beyond stupid. “I don't know,” I said finally. “I just can't shake the feeling that there's something off about this.”

Nick did put a hand on my arm then. “Sarah, I promise, if there's anything even a little suspicious about Lily's death, we'll look in to it.”

“Thank you,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder. “I should check with Michelle and see if Avery and I can go.”

“I'll call you later,” he said. “I might have some questions.”

“I'll be at the shop all day,” I said, managing a small smile.

We walked back to Michelle and Avery.

“You two can go,” Michelle said to me as we came level with the SUV, “but I'll need to talk to you later.”

I nodded. “You know where to find me.”

Michelle and Nick headed for the front door of the bakery. I walked around the SUV to get in the driver's side and couldn't help looking back at the
building. Nick was just going in the door. He turned and looked back at me, raising a hand when he caught sight of me. I lifted my own hand in return.

Avery had already fastened her seat belt. Now she shifted in her seat. “What did the detective ask you?” she said.

“She just wanted to know what happened.”

“Yeah, that's what she asked me, too,” she said. She slumped back against the seat as I pulled out of the parking spot, navigating carefully around the glut of police and other investigative vehicles.

“So do you think that developer guy killed her?” Avery asked.

I almost drove though the stop sign at the corner.

“Nobody said Lily was killed,” I said firmly. Even as the words came out, I was aware that, technically, I'd said it to Nick.

“Oh, c'mon, Sarah,” she said, sliding down so she was sitting on her tailbone with her knees pressed up against the dashboard. “I know what's going on around town, and I know Lily was the only person keeping that development thing from happening. And now, big surprise, she's dead. What are the odds of that happening?”

I reached over and flicked her knee with my thumb and index finger. “Sit up,” I ordered. “If I have to stop fast, you'll find out what the odds are of you choking on your shoulder belt.”

She made a face, but she straightened up.

There were no cars behind us, so I turned to look at her before I crossed the intersection. “I don't know
what happened to Lily. Neither do you. Let the police do their job. It doesn't do anyone any good to speculate.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “But I'm right. I told you there was something creepy about that old guy last fall and then he ended up dead.”

The “old guy” Avery was referring to was Arthur Fenety. He'd come into Second Chance a few days before his death. Avery had pronounced him “skeevy” at the time, and in truth I'd agreed with her, although I hadn't said so.

I was uncomfortably reminded that his death was the reason Rose and Alfred Peterson, along with Charlotte and Liz, had gone into business as Charlotte's Angels. They'd had only two cases since Fenety's murder: the missing set of false teeth I'd told Nick about and a would-be suitor who wasn't the woman she'd pretended to be—or, it turned out—even a woman at all. I knew Rose was going to be all over Lily's death if she thought there was anything suspicious about it. I also knew there was no point in telling Avery to keep her suspicions to herself. Like most teenagers, she had the ability to suddenly lose her hearing with respect to certain subjects.

We drove over to McNamara's. I parked in front and turned to Avery.

“I know. Keep a cork in it.” She must have seen the surprise on my face. “That's what Nonna would say,” she said. “And I will. Lily's mom and her friends shouldn't find out about what happened to her from someone telling someone telling someone else.”

“Thank you,” I said. Sometimes Avery could be surprisingly thoughtful.

I bought her a hot chocolate and a scrambled-egg-and-ham sandwich from Glenn McNamara. Then I asked him if he had enough rolls in his freezer to sell me five dozen, explaining only that there had been a problem at Lily's without saying why. When he found out they were for the hot-lunch program, he wouldn't take my money.

“A few rolls aren't going to break me, Sarah,” he said with a smile.

“I owe you,” I said, smiling back at him.

The smile got bigger, and he raised his eyebrows at me. “Someday, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me,” he said in a pretty good Marlon Brando impersonation.

I laughed. “Anytime, Glenn, as long as it doesn't involve doing anything with a horse's head.”

It was almost time to open the store. I decided to detour there first and then take Avery and the bags of frozen rolls to the school after that. I'd already called to let the vice principal know that we were running a bit late, again without saying why.

“As soon as Mac gets here, I'll run you over to the school,” I said to Avery as we pulled into the lot at the shop. “You can call me when you're done.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. She'd finished the sandwich in about four bites, but she was still nursing the giant hot chocolate.

Mac and Rose came in together about ten to nine.

“Avery, dear, what are you doing here?” Rose
asked when she caught sight of the teenager. “Aren't you supposed to be at the elementary school?”

“Yeah, we got held up,” Avery said.

“What happened?” Rose asked as she took off her coat.

I shot Avery a warning look, which she either didn't catch or—more likely—decided to ignore. “Well . . .” She let out a breath. “Lily's kind of dead.”

“Dead?” Rose repeated, her eyes widening.

Mac caught my eye, and I gave a slight nod.

Rose put a hand to her chest. “Oh, my word,” she said. Then she looked at me. “What happened to her?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Michelle and Nick are there.”

“But Lily's so young.”

I could see the thoughts turning in her head, or as Jess had once described it, the hamsters running on their wheels.

I walked over to Rose and took her coat from her, laying it across the counter by the cash register. “This is not a case, Rose,” I warned. “This is a job for the police.”

She nodded at once. “Oh, of course, dear,” she said.

I didn't believe her for a moment.