Buy a Whisker (8 page)

The tin panels she was talking about had come from the kitchen ceiling of an old farmhouse that was about to be torn down. The owner had told us we could have whatever we could carry out of the house for free. Mac had immediately zeroed in on the kitchen ceiling. He'd carefully pried down all the three-foot-by-three-foot squares, insisting that they hadn't been painted but were just covered in a layer of dust, grease and grime, baked into place by the heat of the old kitchen woodstove. If he had a possible sale for them, we'd soon be finding out if his guess was right.

Mr. P. touched my arm as I stood there deep in thought. I turned and he held out a blue mug decorated with a grinning Cheshire Cat. “I thought you might like something a little stronger than tea,” he said with a smile. He had another mug in his other hand. I was guessing that one was for Mac.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the cup from him.

I took a sip. The coffee was strong and hot, just the way I liked it. “You make a good cup of coffee,” I said.

“I'm good at all sorts of things,” he said. Then he winked at me and headed for the back room.

I watched him go, trying to decide whether he'd just flirted with me or if it was just my imagination.

I managed to spend the next forty-five minutes working on my trash-picked hutch. Mac was right that the piece was in horrible shape, but I still felt confident that with work—and a lot of sandpaper—I could turn it into something that would catch a customer's eye.

Nick showed up about ten thirty. I was hanging a banjo up on the wall with the other instruments.

“Nice,” he said, leaning over my shoulder for a closer look. “Where did you get it?”

“Would you believe it was trash-picked?”

He frowned. “Seriously?”

I nodded, turning the banjo a little to the left so it was hanging straight. “I have a couple of Dumpster divers who come in pretty regularly—trustworthy guys, at least so far. One of them brought this in just before Christmas. I had to have it restrung, but otherwise it was in good shape.” I smiled at him. “You didn't come here looking for a banjo, did you?”

He brushed a few flakes of snow from his hair. “I was hoping I could talk to you. It's about Lily. There are a couple of questions that have come up . . .” He let the end of the sentence trail off.

“Sure,” I said. “Hang on. I'll get Mac to watch things here and we can talk in my office.”

“Thanks,” he said.

Mac was spreading the hammered-tin panels on a tarp on the floor. Mr. P. was down by the far wall, doing something on his computer that I fervently hoped was legal. Rose was stuffing shredded paper curls into a small box at the workbench.

“Good morning,” Mac said when he caught sight of me. “I'm just about set to try your magic degreaser potion on these.”

I took a couple of steps closer to him. “Could you watch things out front for me?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Nick's here. He has more questions about Lily.”

“No problem,” Mac said, brushing off his hands. He followed me back into the store.

Nick was studying our collection of Valentine's Day cards from the fifties and sixties. Avery had arranged them between two thin sheets of plexiglass that Mac had mounted on the wall with mirror clips.

“Do you remember when we were in school we used to give little cards like these to each other?” Nick asked. “And those little heart-shaped candies with sayings in the middle.”

“I remember those,” Mac said with a smile. “Never give one that says ‘Be Mine' to three different girls.” He shook his head.

Nick nodded in sympathy. “Yeah, it's pretty much the same deal with cards that say ‘My Sweetness.'”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “See? That's why little girls grow up to be big girls who stay home on Valentine's Day with a chocolate cheesecake and a Ryan Gosling movie marathon.”

Nick put a hand to his chest in mock woundedness. “It's not our fault. We were wild stallions. We couldn't be tamed with just one saddle.”

“Absolutely,” Mac agreed.

I rolled my eyes at the two of them. “We'll be up in my office,” I said.

Mac nodded. “Take your time. Good to see you,” he said to Nick.

Nick smiled. “You too.”

With Nick in my office, the space seemed even smaller. I gestured at the love seat. I'd finally surrendered my red womb chair to the store, where it had sold in two days, replacing it with an armless chair I'd reupholstered in a vivid green-and-black-geometric print. I pulled it closer and sat down. Nick took off his wool topcoat, tossed it over the arm of the love seat and sat down as well.

He was wearing a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and a red tie. Avery would have said he looked so fine. She would have been right. He was a very handsome man, but he still had a bit of the small-town-boy quality.

“I'm just trying to clear up a few loose ends,” he said. He pulled a notepad and a pen out of the pocket of his coat. “You said that Lily had a routine she followed in the morning.”

I nodded. “She did. I think she had routines for everything. She told me once that she got everything ready the night before so she could start baking as soon as she got in the next morning. I think that was one of the reasons she hired Erin Lansing as an assistant baker. They worked the same way.”

Nick wrote something on the notepad and looked up at me again. “Tell me about the argument Lily had with Liz the night before she died.”

I should have guessed someone would have told the police about that. “Isn't it your job to figure out how Lily died and Michelle's to catch the bad guy—if there is one?” I asked.

“It is,” he said, “but there is some overlap in what we do. Tell me about the argument, Sarah.”

“It wasn't really an argument.”

“So what was it?”

Before I could answer, there was a tap on my door and Rose bustled in carrying a cup of tea in one hand. One thin, star-shaped ginger cookie was tucked onto the saucer.

“Hello, Nicolas,” she said. “It's awfully cold outside. I thought you might like a nice, warm cup of tea.”

He smiled and took the cup from her. “Are you sure this isn't a bribe so you can pump me for information?” he asked.

“If I were trying to bribe you, I would have brought more than one cookie,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

“How did you know Nick was here, and why didn't you bring me a cookie?” I said.

She reached into the pocket of her apron, pulled out something wrapped in a red-and-white-polka-dot napkin and handed it to me. I could see the curved edge of a round cookie peeking out the top.

“I knew Nick was here because I heard you tell Mac when you asked him to watch the front of the store.” One eyebrow went up. “People underestimate me because I'm old.” She smiled sweetly at me and left.

“How could she have heard me tell Mac you were here?” I said to Nick.

He'd broken his cookie in half and was about to dunk it in his tea. “I don't know,” he said.

“I have ears like a wolf,” Rose called from the hall.

Nick laughed and put the entire piece of cookie in his mouth. I shook my head in defeat, leaned against the back of my chair, broke off a bit of my own cookie and ate it.

“Lily and Liz, that Tuesday night,” Nick prompted.

“Right,” I said. “I was walking Liz to her car. We'd had supper together at Sam's. When we came level with the bakery, Lily saw us through the front window and came out.” I stopped and exhaled slowly. “She was very angry.”

“About?”

“Liz had gone to her mother to see if Caroline would agree to talk to Lily about selling the bakery for the development.”

“What happened when Lily confronted Liz?” Nick asked, taking a drink of the tea. The cup look very small in his large hands.

“Nothing really,” I said. “Liz apologized. Lily had her say and went back inside. The whole thing was over in less than a minute.” I broke another piece off my cookie and ate it. Then I leaned sideways to peek out my office door and make sure Rose wasn't still lurking in the hallway. There was no sign of her.

I straightened up. “Seriously, Nick. Liz isn't really a suspect, is she?”

He finished writing in his notebook, closed it and
put it and the pen back in his coat pocket. “I can't tell you that,” he said, softening his words with a smile.

“How about blink once for yes and twice for no?”

“How about I need to get back to the office?”

He stood up and so did I.

I saw his gaze flick to the door. “She's not there,” I said. I reached over and closed the door. “Better?”

He nodded and reached for his coat. “Sarah, I know you said that it's pretty much impossible to keep Rose and my mother and the rest of them out of this case, but it would be a really bad idea for them to get involved. There's a lot of emotion tied up in this whole development proposal. Things could get ugly.”

“Hang on. You think Lily's death is tied to the development?”

His mouth moved. For a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer me. Then he sighed and said, “I didn't say it had anything to do with the North Landing proposal.”

“All right,” I said.

It didn't seem like a good time to point out that he hadn't said it didn't, either.

“This is something ‘the Angels' should keep their wings out of,” Nick said as he wound his scarf around his neck.

I rolled my eyes at him. “And you and I have had so much success convincing them to stay out of things in the past.”

The collar of his coat was folded under on one side. I reached over and fixed it, smoothing it flat
with my hand. He smelled wonderful. Hugo aftershave, of course, and something else. Oranges?

Nick smiled down at me. “Thanks,” he said. “I never quite mastered getting all dressed up.”

“I think you mastered it just fine,” I said.

Suddenly the room seemed too warm, and I took a step back from him. I still had half a cookie in my hand, and it seemed like a good time to finish it.

He smiled. “When you talk to Jess, tell her the nachos are on me this week.”

I laughed. “I think you're going to regret that offer.”

There were no customers in the store, but Liz and Charlotte were downstairs, both wearing their coats, standing by the big front window and talking to Rose. The three of them turned to look at us.

“Hi, Mom,” Nick said, smiling at Charlotte. “I didn't know you'd be here.” He started toward her. She met him halfway, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

I joined them. I could see by her stance and the expression on her face that Rose, to use an expression of my grandmother's, was loaded for bear. Her eyes were fixed on Nick.

“What's going on?” I asked.

Charlotte glanced back at her friends.

Rose pulled her gaze away from Nick to me. “The police have a suspect, and we have a
client
.” She put a little extra emphasis on the word “client.”

“Who?” I asked.

Liz turned to face us. “Me.”

“What?” Nick looked as surprised as I felt. I felt certain he hadn't known.

“Nick has to leave,” I said. “I'm just going to walk him out.” I waved my finger in the general direction of all of them. “We'll talk about this when I come back in. Don't go anywhere. Please.”

“I'll talk to you later,” Charlotte said to Nick, giving his arm a squeeze. She looked at me, and then her gaze slid to the front door, her way of asking me, without saying anything, to get Nick out.

I all but pushed Nick to the front door.

“Sarah, I had no idea,” he said. He glanced back over his shoulder at his mother, Rose and Liz.

“I believe you,” I said, “and so will they when they've had time to calm down, but for right now . . . just go. Please?”

He pulled his gloves out of his pocket. “Okay,” he said. “But call me if . . . if they decide to do something stupid, or . . .” He shrugged. “Just call me later, okay?”

“I will,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rose looking in our direction. If Nick didn't move soon, I was afraid there was going to be a confrontation I'd just as soon avoid.

I put my hand on his chest and gave him a little push. It was that or hip check him through the heavy wooden door with its leaded glass window, and that seemed like a bit too radical. Rose was coming toward us. “Go,” I urged.

He went.

I made a beeline for Rose, draped my arm around her shoulders and turned her back around.

She tried to shake me off, but I'd been expecting that.

“Sarah, I wanted to have a word with Nicolas,” she said, clearly annoyed at me.

“I can see that,” I said. “I'm trying to stop you.”

“I can see
that
,” she retorted.

However, I was bigger than she was, so I frog-marched her across the room, reaching out to catch Liz's hand with my free hand. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“Of course I am,” she said.

“Want to tell me what's going on over a cup of tea?” I'd learned a long time ago that the three of them didn't do anything without a cup of tea.

Charlotte passed behind me. “The kettle's on,” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder for a moment. “I'll go make a pot.”

I half turned. “Thank you,” I said. I turned back to Rose. “I'm guessing Mr. P. is going to join us?”

“Alfred is part of the team,” she said, a bit of a huffy edge in her voice.

“Go get him, then,” I said. Monday mornings this time of year were pretty quiet, so we might as well have our tea in the shop. I decided I could keep an eye out the front window for customers.

I turned to Liz. “Are you really okay?” I said.

“No,” she said. “I'm damned angry.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you going to try to stop us from looking into Lily's death?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I know a waste of time when I see it.”

That made her laugh. “You are a very smart girl.”

Charlotte came down with the tea just as Rose returned with Mr. P., who was carrying a couple of folding chairs. Once everyone had somewhere to sit and a cup of tea, I turned to Liz. Elvis had wandered in from somewhere and was settled on her lap. “Okay. What happened?” I asked.

“Right after Avery left for school this morning, Michelle Andrews showed up at my door with another police officer,” Liz said. “She wanted to talk about what happened last Tuesday night, when you and I were walking to the car and Lily came out of the bakery.” She made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “They already know.”

“So you told Michelle what happened?”

“Yes,” Liz said. She was stroking Elvis's fur, and he looked like he was following her every word, head tipped to one side. And for all I knew, maybe he was.

“Then what?” I prompted.

“Then she asked me about the conversation I had with Caroline.”

“Wait a minute. You went to Caroline?” Charlotte said, smoothing her apron over her lap. “I thought your disagreement with Lily was about the development.”

Liz looked at her and then reached for her tea and looked away. She was a little pale under her expertly applied makeup. “It was,” she said. “I just left out the part about talking to Caroline because you told me it was a bad idea.”

“I'm not saying I told you so,” Charlotte said gently.

Liz looked at me. “I explained to Detective Andrews that all I did was remind Caroline how important the harbor-front development could be for the town. I didn't ask her to pressure Lily, and she didn't really say anything to me, either way.”

“You said you're a suspect,” Charlotte said. “What else happened?”

Liz took a sip of her tea and set it down before answering. “She asked me what I did after I left Sarah.”

“You went home,” I said. “Didn't you?”

Liz nodded. “I did.” She was scratching the side of Elvis's chin and he was leaning into her hand, blissed-out.

“So did you tell Michelle that?” I asked, tracing the inside of the curved handle on my cup with one finger.

“No,” Liz said. “I told her that if she had any more questions, she should contact my lawyer.”

“Why?” Charlotte asked.

Liz turned in her direction. “Because she was wasting time asking me questions that I'd already answered. Twice. She should be trying to figure out who really did kill Lily. She thinks I pushed that child down the bakery stairs over money?” She gave her head a shake. “That's ridiculous!”

“So call your lawyer,” I said. “I'm guessing in this case that would be Josh Evans.”

Liz nodded.

“So call him,” I said, dipping my head in the direction of the phone, which was sitting on the counter next to the cash register. “Avery can corroborate that you were home and Michelle can move on.”

“Avery wasn't home,” Liz said, bending her head over her cup again.

“Where was she?” Charlotte asked, leaning forward in her chair. Rose was studying her friend, a small frown adding lines to her face.

“She spent the night with Elspeth.” Elspeth was Liz's niece, which made her Avery's first cousin once removed or second cousin or something. She was also one of Avery's mom's closest friends.

“Liz, did you stay home all night?” Rose asked.

We all looked at her, but Rose kept her gaze on Liz.

“What kind of a question is that?” Liz grumbled.

“A question that deserves an answer, just like the ones Sarah's been asking you.”

It hit me then that Liz had said that she had gone home, but she hadn't said she'd stayed home.

“Did you stay home?” I said.

“No,” she finally mumbled.

Rose and Mr. P. exchanged a look.

“Where did you go?”

Elvis was leaning against Liz and she was still stroking his fur.

“Nowhere really,” she said. “The house was so quiet without Avery and it wasn't that cold, so I went for a walk.” She looked out the window for a moment. “I know it looks bad, but I didn't do anything to Lily. I swear.”

I looked at Elvis, still contentedly sitting on Liz's lap. Nothing in his demeanor said he thought that she wasn't telling the truth—that was assuming his lying radar was working. Not that I needed anyone—human or feline—to tell me that Liz was telling the truth. I leaned over and put my hand over hers. “I know that,” I said.

“We all know that,” Rose echoed.

But how exactly was I going to convince the police?

“The first thing we need to do is come up with some legitimate suspects,” Rose said. “I think we need to know a little more about Lily. Did she have any enemies? We know a lot of people were angry because she wouldn't sell the bakery. Have you all forgotten that?”

Liz made a dismissive gesture with her perfectly manicured left hand. “You really think someone here in town killed her over that?”

Rose's gray eyes flashed with intensity. “You
think that couldn't happen? People have been killed over cheese, for heaven's sake.”

“Cheese?” Liz repeated, the skepticism clear in her voice. Elvis's ears twitched and he looked around. He liked cheese.

“Yes, cheese,” Rose said indignantly, color rising in her cheeks. “I read it online. It was somewhere in France. A man stabbed his next-door neighbor and buried the body in his basement. It was over some rare type of sheep's milk cheese.”

“You think Lily stabbed somebody and buried the body in her basement and that was why she didn't want to sell the bakery?” Liz asked. As if he could see where this was going, Elvis jumped down from Liz's lap and came over to me, sitting down by my feet where he was out of the crossfire, and washing his face.

Rose made a face and set her cup down again. “Now you're just being foolish,” she said. “The basement at the bakery is finished, all concrete and stone. Lily couldn't have buried anyone down there. And where on earth would she find a curd knife in North Harbor?”

Charlotte looked over at me, a smile pulling at her lips. Rose and Liz were away, and if one of us didn't stop the conversation dead, they could keep going for at least a half hour. I gave a slight shrug. I didn't have anything.

“You know, the development isn't the first time Lily has been at the center of a controversy,” Charlotte said slowly.

I looked at her again. “Excuse me?”

Liz was nodding. She tapped her cup with one pale turquoise nail. “That's right. I'd forgotten about the business with young Caleb.”

“You weren't here then,” Charlotte said to me. “It was, let me see, must be four years ago now. Lily's ex-boyfriend, Caleb Swift, disappeared after taking out his sailboat, the
Swift Current
.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, disappeared?”

“He sailed out of the harbor, and about eighteen hours later the boat was found adrift. There was no sign of Caleb.”

I held up a hand. “Wait a minute. I remember Gram telling me something about that. There was no sign of a struggle on the boat, no blood, nothing out of place.”

“He was just gone,” Charlotte said.

“Caleb was a descendant of Alexander Swift,” Liz continued, “and his grandfather Daniel's only heir. He was the golden boy of that family—smart, handsome, athletic, and he'd been sailing since he was six.”

Rose drank the last of her tea and set her cup down, her “discussion” with Liz forgotten. “Daniel Swift always believed that Lily knew more than she was admitting about why Caleb took his boat out the night he disappeared.”

“I don't understand,” I said, leaning over to pick up Elvis. He settled himself on my lap and looked from me to Charlotte as though he were interested in our conversation. Maybe he was, for all I knew. “What does—did—Lily have to do with the disappearance of her former boyfriend?”

“He went to see her the night he vanished,” Charlotte said, setting her tea down on the small table between us. “There's some security footage of him leaving the bakery, headed in the direction of the waterfront. It's not very good quality. The Levengers had an old camera set up.” The Levenger family owned the Owl & the Pussycat bookstore next to Lily's Bakery.

“A couple of Caleb's friends seemed to think he was a bit obsessed with getting Lily back,” Liz added.

Elvis looked at me. I reached over to give him a scratch behind his left ear, and he started to purr.

“What did Lily say?” I asked.

“She said that Caleb had just dropped by to pick up some things of his she still had—a sweatshirt, a camera.” Charlotte shrugged.

“Caroline confirmed her story. She got to the bakery a few minutes after Caleb did.” Liz brushed a few cookie crumbs off her sleeve.

“She's Lily's mother,” Rose said, getting up and bustling around collecting the cups. “What else is she going to say?”

“You think that both of them were hiding something?” I asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “I don't know.”

Liz handed Rose her cup and got to her feet. “What really matters is that Daniel Swift thought they were.”