Buy А Whisker

Chapter 12

Charlotte and Avery had their heads together at the cash desk, but Avery bounced over to me before I could cross the floor to them.

“Sarah, can we do KISS in the front window?” she asked. She was like a puppy in her enthusiasm, and Elvis made a wide berth around her and headed for the back room.

“Do you mean candy kisses or people kissing?” I asked.

“Number one, no. And number two, ewww!” she said, making a face. “I mean the retro band. You know, the guys in makeup.”

I looked over at Charlotte. “You said you wanted something that wasn’t the typical hearts and flowers,” she said with a completely straight face.

“What exactly do you want to do?” I asked warily.

“We want to do the band in the window,” Avery said, making a gesture in that direction with one hand. “We could use those mannequins we got from Doran’s.”

I’d known that trip would come back to haunt me. When we bought the huge chandelier from the lobby of the Portland department store, we’d also purchased several old-style glass-front wooden display cases and six mannequins.

“You can’t let these go to the dump,” Avery had insisted when she’d come across a row of the plastic people. “These are art.”

The vintage figures looked like giant Barbie dolls. Mac had come to stand beside me. “It’s not the worst idea,” he’d said quietly.

“Okay,” I said. “Have you lost your mind?”

Mac had given me an enigmatic smile and held up his phone. “People collect just about everything, including store mannequins from the 1960s, which I’m almost certain these are.”

We’d ended up buying six of the dozen figures, disassembled in three large cardboard cartons, for five dollars apiece, and then we’d turned around and sold two of them for two hundred and fifty dollars to a collector in Florida who had stowed them in the back of his Winnebago RV. As he’d driven off, it had looked like one of them was waving out the back window.

“What are you going to do for costumes and wigs?” I asked.

“That’s why this idea is so totally brilliant,” Avery said, throwing her hands into the air. “It’s not going to cost anything, if that’s what you’re worried about, and I know it is.”

“Nothing?” I said.

“I swear,” she said, pressing one hand to her chest with a melodramatic flourish. “Mr. P. said that Sam and the guys in his band dressed up as KISS for some kind of charity thing and we could probably use their stuff if we asked. So could we ask?”

Before I could say yes or no, she waved her other hand. “And I can borrow whatever makeup stuff I need from Phantasy. I already called Elspeth and asked her. Could you just please say yes so we can get on with it?”

A life-size KISS re-creation in my front window for Valentine’s Day? It was just plain weird.

I looked over at Charlotte, who smiled back at me. I looked at Avery, who looked like she was going to bounce out of her skin.

“Yes,” I said.

Avery turned to Charlotte and did a fist pump in the air. Then she turned back to me.

“Thanks, Sarah,” she said. “I promise you’re going to love it.”

“You’re responsible for asking Sam about borrowing those costumes.”

“Deal,” she said at once.

“And you have to do all the heavy lifting, not Charlotte.”

“I promise,” she said, crossing her heart with one finger like a five-year-old making a playground swear.

She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call Sam right now.”

I walked over to Charlotte. “KISS?”

“Would you like to see the list of ideas I vetoed?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“You have to admit, our more . . . exotic windows are the ones that seem to bring in customers,” Charlotte pointed out. “Remember the Christmas goat?”

I laughed. The Christmas goat came from the Scandinavian holiday tradition. Our Christmas goat in robes like an old-fashioned Santa Claus had brought a lot of people into the store, if only to ask why a goat was playing Saint Nick. It had been worth the thirty dollars I’d paid for the toy goat at a Bangor toy store.

“Just don’t let it get too exotic,” I said.

In the back room Mac had the chandelier laid out on a clean tarp. He was at the workbench. I walked over to him. “Jon West is on his way over,” I said.

“Now?” he said.

His gaze went to the end wall where Mr. P. and Rose were doing something on Mr. P.’s laptop.

I sighed. “This is the universe testing my resolve because I said I wasn’t going to try to stop them from being detectives if that’s what they wanted.”

Mac nodded and smiled, his gaze coming back to me. “The universe has a perverse sense of humor sometimes,” he said.

I smiled back at him and then looked over at the old light. “You still feel comfortable about the price we agreed on for the chandelier?”

He turned the screwdriver he was holding over in his fingers. “I do. I added a cushion for any expenses we didn’t think of. We can make a nice profit off this piece and Jon West will do all right as well. The light’s almost an antique, and it is a piece of Maine history. Not to mention he’ll be spending a lot less than a new chandelier would cost him.”

“I think I’ll just stand back and let you handle things, then,” I said.

“Based on the last time he was here, I think he prefers your charm just a little more than mine.”

I laughed. “Jon is a bit of a flirt, isn’t he?”

Mac’s expression got serious. “He also goes hard after what he wants. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I won’t.”

Jon West arrived exactly twenty-nine minutes after I’d spoken to him.

“Hi, Sarah,” he said, holding out his hand as he stepped into the store. “I’m glad you called. I’m looking forward to seeing the light fixture all cleaned up.”

He was wearing jeans and a rust-colored denim work jacket with a heavy pile lining and the corduroy collar turned up. His shaggy dark hair was pulled back, like it often was, in a ponytail.

“C’mon back to the workroom,” I said, leading the way.

Mac met us at the door. “Jon, it’s good to see you again,” he said, offering his hand.

“You too,” the developer said. The two men shook hands, and then we walked over to the tarp.

Mac and I waited without speaking while Jon West walked around the chandelier.

“Is that the original ceiling chain?” he asked. “I forgot to ask you before.”

I nodded. “And the original ceiling rosette.”

He crouched down to get a closer look at the cutwork and the glass shade. “What about the shade?”

“I don’t think so,” Mac said. “It’s the shade that was with the light, but we think it was a replacement for the original, probably circa 1930.”

“Are you firm on the price?” West asked, training his blue eyes on me. “Or is there some room to move?” He smiled.

“There’s some room to move,” I said with a smile of my own. “I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to give me more than we’re asking.”

He laughed, straightened up and named a figure that was less than half the amount I’d originally quoted him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t do that when I have other buyers interested.”

West circled the light. Based on the architect’s drawings for the hotel that he’d shown us several weeks before, it would look spectacular in the lobby.

“Can I ask who your other buyers are?” he said.

I patted the pocket where I’d put my cell phone as though I’d just felt it vibrate even though it hadn’t. “Of course you can,” I said. “I can’t tell you, but I don’t mind you asking.” Then I smiled.

He named a number that was ten percent more than his previous figure. I just shook my head. He walked over and stood beside me, his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Sarah. You know how this works. You name a number. I name a number. We volley back and forth a little and settle on a price.”

“We already did that,” I said. “When you originally called me about the light. I’ve given you my best price.”

West turned to look at the chandelier again. “That light’s a piece of history. It was cast at a foundry just outside of North Harbor. I really want it to be the focal point of the hotel in the harbor development.”

“Do you even have a development?” Rose asked.

I’d seen her start over toward us out of the corner of my eye, but short of tackling her and wrestling her to the floor, I didn’t see any way to stop her. My resolution to let the Angels do their thing was about to be tested.

Jon West turned to face Rose. “Excuse me?” he said.

Rose gestured to the chandelier. “You’re right. That light is a piece of our history and I would like to see it stay in town, but you don’t have all the property you need to start building. You don’t have Lily’s Bakery.” She studied him for a long moment, then gave her head a slight shake and offered a smile along with her hand. “Where are my manners?” she said. “I’m Rose Jackson, Mr. West.”

Jon West shook her hand and returned her smile with a smooth, professional smile of his own. “I’m guessing you shopped at Doran’s,” he said.

“Yes, I did,” Rose said. “I remember being in the lobby of the Portland store just before Christmas when I was about five. They had a huge evergreen tree set up under that light. It must have been eight feet tall, maybe higher. My father picked me up so I could have a candy cane from the tree, and to me it looked like that chandelier was the star on the top.”

“That’s a wonderful memory,” he said, tapping one hand against his leg.

Knowing Rose, it was possible it was actually a wonderful fabrication.

“Yes, it is,” she said. “But it doesn’t have anything to do with my original question, which you haven’t answered. How are you going to build North Landing without the bakery?”

Elvis had come in from somewhere and jumped up on the workbench behind us. He bumped Jon West’s arm with his head, and West reached over and absently began to pet the cat. “I hope to buy the bakery from Lily Carter’s estate,” he said.

“Did you kill her so you could do that?” Rose asked in the same tone of voice she might have used to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. “Lily wouldn’t sell to you when she was alive.”

New resolve or not, I couldn’t just stand there while she accused the man of murder. I stepped between them. “Rose, this isn’t the place for this conversation,” I said.

Jon West held up the hand that wasn’t stroking Elvis’s fur. “It’s all right, Sarah. I don’t mind answering Mrs. Jackson’s question. No, I did not kill Lily Carter. I wasn’t anywhere near that bakery.”

Rose had had one hand in her pocket the entire time she’d been talking. Now she pulled it out. She was holding Mr. P.’s cell phone. “When I was a child we had an expression—‘liar, liar pants on fire,’” she said. She glanced down. “I think yours are about to start smoking.”

She held up the phone so we could see it. It was playing what looked like some kind of security video. It was black-and-white, and the quality could have been better. Even so, I recognized the back of Lily’s Bakery.

“What is this, Rose?” I asked.

“Just watch, please,” she said.

I saw a figure then, just at the edge of the picture. He or she slipped out the back door of the bakery and disappeared out of the frame. Whoever it was had on a heavy denim work jacket and a knitted cap. What looked like a long, dark ponytail poked out from underneath the hat. The person was careful to keep his or her face turned away from the camera.

“Where did you get this?” Mac asked.

“I have my sources,” Rose said primly.

I had a feeling her source was over at the other end of the room.

“That’s you,” she said to Jon West.

West shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He looked at me. “You all can’t seriously think I killed Lily Carter over the North Landing development.” He jabbed a finger at the cell phone. “This is fake.”

He’d stopped petting Elvis, who bumped him again with his head. He reached out and stroked the cat’s fur again.

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s from a security camera on the building next to the bakery.” There was a slight edge of accusation to her voice. “You were the one playing all those childish tricks on Lily, and when they didn’t work, you killed her.”

“Stop,” I said sharply, holding up both hands. “Just stop.” I took the phone out of her hand. “Jon, this does look like you,” I said. “I’m not saying you killed Lily, but did you go there to talk to her?”

The muscles along his jawline were tight, and I could tell he was gritting his teeth together. “I didn’t go talk to Lily the night she died. I wasn’t the person harassing her, and I didn’t kill her. I wasn’t even in town the night she died.” Anger made his voice rougher.

He pulled his free hand back over his neck and turned to look at Rose for a moment. “You’re incorrect. The entire project is not in danger of falling apart. It never was. The town was going to expropriate that piece of land. All that’s happened now is that the timeline has been pushed back. The estate will be settled. We’ll buy the property instead of going to expropriation, and North Landing will go ahead. So yes, Lily made me angry enough that I had a moment or two when I wanted to strangle her, but I didn’t actually do it. I had no reason to.”

Elvis shook himself and walked along the workbench to sit by Mac.

West wrestled his emotions back in check. “Sarah, the project is still a go. It’s just on hold while everything is settled with the bakery property. Please, would you hold the chandelier for me? I’ll cut you a check for a quarter of the price as a deposit.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.” He headed for the front door.

Rose gave Mac and me a self-satisfied grin. “I think we solved Lily’s murder,” she said.

I looked at Elvis, who was poking his nose in a box Mac had set on the workbench.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“What do you mean, you don’t think so?” Rose frowned at me.

“The hair,” I said, gesturing to the cell phone she still held in her hand. “It looks fake. But before we get to that, where did you get that video? How did you get it?”

“I have my sources,” she said. Her eyes met mine, and there was a stubborn set to her shoulders.

I tipped my head in Mr. P.’s direction. “I’m guessing your source is sitting over there.”

“If you think you know, then why did you ask?”

I counted to five, took a breath and let it out slowly. “I told you I wasn’t going to fight with you about your investigation, but you can’t keep hacking into people’s computers when you want information.”

“We didn’t,” Rose said placidly. “After Carl Levenger was here yesterday, I remembered what Charlotte had said about the bookstore having an old security camera that recorded Caleb Swift the night he disappeared. So I went to see him.”

“So Carl gave you that video?”

She shook her head. “No. The police already have it. I don’t think there was anything on it that was any use.” She held up her phone. “This came from the gift shop on the other side of Carl.” The look she gave me was more than a little smug.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She leaned over and patted my arm. “You’re forgiven, dear. Now tell me why you think that hair isn’t real.”

Rose played the video again, and Mac leaned over to watch it with her.

“You think it’s a wig?” she said.

I nodded. “I do. I know it sounds crazy, but watch.” I pointed at the small screen. “See? There. Whoever that is just adjusted their hair.” The person in the video put his or her hand up and moved their entire head of hair slightly forward. “That hair is probably not real at all.”

Rose studied the video as she weighed my words. “I can’t tell,” she said finally, “but I trust your judgment.”

“So if that’s not Jon West, someone put in some effort to make it look like he was at Lily’s,” Mac said.

Rose took off her glasses and cleaned them on the hem of her sweater. “I think Alf and I need to do a little more digging.” She bustled back toward Mr. P., who had been diligently typing on his laptop for the previous ten minutes while sneaking little peeks in our direction.

Mac leaned over and scratched the top of Elvis’s head. “Stay out of that,” he said quietly. The cat immediately dropped his paw and stopped rooting in the box.

“Why does he listen to you when you tell him to stay out of something but ignore me when I tell him?” I asked.

“It’s a guy thing,” Mac said.

Elvis meowed his agreement.

“So are you going to tell Rose the other reason you think Jon West is innocent?” Mac asked.

“What would that be?” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm.

Elvis, with his uncanny sense of timing, meowed loudly.

Mac didn’t say a word. He just looked, pointedly, from the cat to me.

“Fine. I was watching while Jon was petting him.” I glanced at Elvis, who seemed to smile at me. “I don’t think Jon West had anything to do with Lily’s death because my cat, the feline lie detector, told me so. Nothing crazy about that.”

“It’s not so far-fetched,” he said. “Elvis has better night vision than we have. He has a better sense of smell. Why is it so crazy that he can sense the physiological signs that someone is lying?” He nudged me with his shoulder. “You think it was a coincidence that Elvis seemed to know who killed Arthur Fenety before the rest of us did?”

“I was kind of hoping it was,” I said.

Mac laughed. “Elvis being able to tell when someone is lying is not the strangest thing that’s happened around here,” he said. We headed out into the shop.

Avery and Charlotte were standing by the front window. Actually, Avery was standing in the window, gesticulating wildly while Charlotte nodded from time to time. Mac raised his eyebrows.

“Point taken,” I said.

I went back up to my office and spent the next hour putting together an offer for the items we wanted to buy from Malcolm Thomas’s family. When I came back downstairs, Charlotte was waiting on a customer who was holding two quilts and Avery was dusting a set of bookshelves that Mac and I had made from an old pantry cabinet.

I was glad I’d said yes to her window display idea. I didn’t know a lot of the details behind Avery’s problems at home, but I could see it had been good for her to be with Liz and spend time with Rose and Charlotte as well, just the way it had been good for me when I’d been her age.

Avery came over to me. “I talked to Sam,” she said. I could see from the grin on her face that he’d said yes, she could borrow the KISS costumes. I made a mental note to thank him the next time I saw him.

“And he said yes?” I said.

She nodded.

“I can’t wait to see what you and Charlotte come up with.”

Her expression grew serious, and she slid the stack of bracelets up and down her arm. “If you like it, could I maybe do a window all by myself sometime?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

She threw her arms around me. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said.

I hugged her back. “You’ve been doing a good job,” I said. “I’m glad I hired you.”

She pulled back out of the embrace and rolled her eyes at me. “You mean because Nonna forced you into it.”

“Your grandmother didn’t make me hire you, Avery,” I said.

She looked surprised. “Really? I thought maybe she knew some embarrassing story about you or something.”

That idea made me laugh. “Avery, there are dozens of embarrassing stories about me floating around. So many there’s no blackmail potential left. Nobody made me hire you.”

The woman at the cash register had picked up one of the teacup gardens. “Look,” I said. “Your teacup gardens sell out as fast as we get them made. They were your idea.”

“I’ll bring the rest of them out as soon as I finish this shelf,” she said.

I nodded and headed for the storeroom.

Mac was still at the workbench talking on his phone. The top of a mantel clock was lying in three pieces, and I could see he’d gotten a couple of clamps out. The clock had been another yard-sale find, the wooden case in several pieces, but for two dollars it seemed worth the investment of a little time. Mac set his cell on the workbench, pulled one hand over his neck and uttered a couple of swearwords almost under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He made a face and shook his head. “The place where I’ve been renting my apartment has been sold. I have six weeks to find a new place.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Maybe I should see if Rose is interested in being roommates.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “If I had another apartment, I’d let you have it. If I had any space other than the little storage closet you saw under the stairs, it would be yours.”

Mac managed a smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the thought.”

“Why don’t you let Mac move in here?” Avery was standing behind us, probably on her way to get the tiny planters.

I looked around the space. “Avery, this is a storage room,” I said. “Mac can’t live here.”

She gave me the look teenagers have been giving adults for millennia. That “how dumb can you be” expression.

“Not down here, duh,” she said. “There’s that big space upstairs that we don’t even use half of for storage. Why can’t Mac live there?”