Telling Tails

Chapter 5

My cell phone rang then. It was Charlotte. The hospital was ready to discharge Rose.

“I want her to come home with me, but she won’t have any of that,” Charlotte said. “She wants to go home to her own apartment.” Charlotte had a spare room in her little yellow house that Nick had painted and installed new carpet in just a couple of months ago.

Rose’s unwillingness to stay with Charlotte didn’t surprise me.

“We’ll take her home,” I said. “If we have to, you and I and Mr. P. can take turns on guard duty all night.”

Charlotte laughed and I told her I’d be there in about fifteen minutes and ended the call.

Rose wanted to know what had happened to Jeff Cameron and she wasn’t going to rest until she got some answers. She wasn’t going to like the answers I had so far. That persistent streak was what had gotten her involved when Maddie Hamilton had been accused of murder. And it turned out she had a bit of a knack for ferreting out clues, probably because she looked—and baked—like someone’s sweet little grandmother and people just seemed to confide in her. Or maybe it was the cookies. It also helped that Mr. P. had all the computer expertise of a teenage hacking genius. Add to that the fact that Liz knew every bit of gossip going around town and Charlotte, after years of being a school principal, knew pretty much everyone in North Harbor, so it didn’t seem completely crazy that they’d decided to start their own detective agency.

Of course, Nick wasn’t happy about his mother and her friends investigating anything. I could still see the look on his face when he learned that Alfred had met all the requirements to get his PI’s license and Rose had begun an apprenticeship with him.

I knew Rose wasn’t going to let this go. I hadn’t totally been joking when I’d told Charlotte we might have to guard the door to keep Rose from going out to investigate.

Mr. P. was watching for me when I pulled up to the emergency room doors. He raised a hand and I waved back to let him know I’d seen him. I came around the front of the SUV and opened the door for Rose. Charlotte was on one side of her and Mr. P. was on the other. She looked well. She’d combed her hair, her color was good and she seemed to be moving without pain. And she didn’t like Charlotte and Mr. P. hovering. Her lips were pressed together in a tight smile.

“Where are we going, Sarah?” she asked as she reached the SUV.

“Home,” I said.

“Whose?” Her gray eyes were fixed on my face.

“Yours and mine,” I said.

She nodded. “Fine.”

Alfred had already gotten in the back. Charlotte hesitated. “I wish she’d just come with me,” she said quietly.

“I know,” I said, putting an arm around her. In flats she was taller than I was. Since I was wearing a bit of a heel, we were the same size. “And if you suggest that, I’m almost certain Rose will jump out at the first stoplight we hit. And you’ll be the one chasing her, because Alfred’s knees aren’t good and I’m not running in these things.” I stuck out one leg so she could see my pretty wedge sandals.

Charlotte laughed and shook her head. Then she slid in next to Mr. P. I hurried around the back of the SUV and got behind the wheel again. Mr. P. touched my shoulder. “Sarah, you’re in a no-parking zone,” he said.

I leaned forward to look out the windshield. The no-parking sign was right in front of me. “I didn’t even see that,” I said. I’d been so focused on getting as close to the door as possible that there could have been a bear standing there holding the sign and I still wouldn’t have noticed it.

“So put the pedal to the metal before someone sees you,” Rose said from the seat beside me. Her hands were folded in her lap, shoulders squared. My own grandmother would have said she was loaded for bear.

I started the car, drove to the bottom of the lot, paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the street. No one spoke.

I glanced over at Rose again. She hadn’t moved. “I’ll tell you when we get home,” I said.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said.

“You were going to.” I touched the brake as a couple of laughing teenagers cut across the street in front of us.

“You don’t know that,” she retorted.

I took one hand off the steering wheel long enough to tap my temple with two fingers. “I’m very smart.”

“You’re very saucy.”

I smiled but kept my eyes on the road. It was quiet the rest of the way home. I pulled into the driveway and we all piled out of the SUV, Mr. P. hurrying around to help Rose out of her seat.

The moment we stepped into Rose’s apartment, Charlotte held up a hand. “No detective work until the tea’s made.” She looked pointedly at Rose.

“Fine with me,” Rose said. “There are chocolate chip cookies in the blue tin.” She started for the cupboard but Charlotte stopped her with a look.

“Sit,” she said, making a shooing gesture with one hand. She had several inches on her friend, along with the bearing and tone of voice that went along with being a former school principal. Rose stood her ground for a moment and then took a seat at the table.

Once everyone had a cup of hot tea and a cookie, Rose turned to me. “You didn’t talk to Jeff Cameron, did you?”

I shook my head. “No, we didn’t.”

“I knew it,” she said, nodding for emphasis. “If you had, you would have said so the moment you picked us up.”

She was right. That’s exactly what I would have done.

“Did you talk to his wife?” Mr. P. asked, breaking a cookie in half and dipping the end of it in his tea.

“I did,” I said. “She claims he left her for another woman and cleaned out their accounts.”

Rose set her cup down. “You don’t believe that, do you, Sarah?” The skepticism in her voice made it clear what she thought.

I took a bite of my cookie to buy a little time before I answered. “I don’t know,” I said, finally. “It seems like an awfully convenient coincidence.”

“Coincidences do happen,” Charlotte said.

I nodded. “I know. And Leesa Cameron did show us—well, Michelle—the text she got from her husband and a bank statement that showed their investment account had been emptied.”

“Those things can easily be faked.” Rose glanced over at Mr. P., who nodded in confirmation.

“Michelle is going to check with the bank in the morning. Leesa also told us that her husband had an assistant, Chloe Sanders. She’s also going to talk to her.”

“I had a Chloe Sanders as a student,” Charlotte said. “She was on the debate team. Do you think it could be the same person?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I know she went to Cahill.”

“That sounds right,” she said.

I rattled off the phone number I’d memorized when Leesa Cameron had showed it to Michelle. “Will you see if you can contact her in the morning? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”

“You’re a pretty good judge of people, Sarah,” Alfred said. “What’s your impression of Mrs. Cameron?”

I sighed and played with my cup, turning it around and around in the saucer. “She seemed genuinely hurt and angry,” I said. “If she was lying, she’s a darn good actress. And it looks like she has an alibi. She said she was with her husband’s sister.”

Beside me Rose made a frustrated sound.

“I saw Casey, by the way,” I said. “He’s a beautiful dog.”

She smiled at that. “Yes, he is. Tomorrow I’m going to make him some dog biscuits.”

“For what it’s worth, Ashley Clark said she didn’t hear or see any cars go by right before the dog found you.”

“That’s because I wasn’t hit by a car,” Rose said. “If I had been, I’d have broken ribs or at least bruises on this part of my body.” She patted her midsection with one hand. I didn’t know anything about injuries from being hit by a car, but it made sense to me.

“There is one problem, though,” I continued. “Ashley says she saw Jeff Cameron’s vehicle go by about half an hour before Casey found you.”

Rose drank the last of her tea. She made a move to get up, but Charlotte immediately got to her feet and headed for the cozy-covered teapot on the stove. She poured a fresh cup for Rose and topped up her own. Mr. P. and I both shook our heads to more.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Rose said, reaching for the milk jug. “Did Ashley say Jeff Cameron was driving?” she asked.

I reached for another cookie. “No.”

“It doesn’t prove anything, then,” Charlotte said. “It could have been Mr. Cameron who was driving or it could have been someone else entirely.”

“So Detective Andrews will start investigating tomorrow?” Rose said. She added sugar to her tea and stirred. It seemed like an innocuous question, but I had a feeling Rose already knew the answer.

“Like I said, she’s going to check with the bank.”

“And?”

I pushed my cup back and shifted in the chair to face her. “And you already know the answer to that, Rose. The police aren’t starting any investigation. They don’t think there’s anything to investigate. As far as they’re concerned, Jeff Cameron left his wife and left town.”

Rose’s lips pulled into a thin, tight line. “So how does Detective Andrews explain what happened to me? What does she think happened? I hit myself over the head?”

I’d let myself get backed into this corner. There was no way out except to tell Rose what Michelle had said. I put both hands flat on the table and closed my eyes for a moment. It didn’t change anything.

“Michelle thinks that you might have had a small stroke and fallen and hit your head. You were dazed and you got as far as the Clarks’ house before you passed out. She . . . uh . . . thinks you should see a specialist.”

“What a load of balderdash!” Rose exclaimed, gray eyes flashing. “She thinks I’m some feeble old fuddy-duddy, doesn’t she?”

“She didn’t say that. I think she’s genuinely concerned about you.”

“Bull crap!”

It struck me that if Rose did have some kind of heart problem, she’d be having a stroke right now. Her hands were clenched and her face was flushed.

“Rosie, it wouldn’t hurt to go see a doctor,” Mr. P. offered.

I swung around to stare at him. He was leaning forward and he was frowning slightly.

“Alfred Peterson, you must have had a stroke yourself if you think there’s anything wrong with my brain,” Rose said.

“Rose Jackson, when was the last time you actually saw a doctor?” Charlotte asked. I could always count on her to be the voice of reason.

Rose looked up at the round red clock on the wall above the table. “About forty-five minutes ago,” she said tartly.

“And before that?” Charlotte countered, her voice quiet in comparison to her friend’s.

“I had my blood pressure and my blood sugar checked at that clinic at Shady Pines.”

“Those were nurses, not doctors,” Charlotte said. “When—other than about an hour ago—did you last see a doctor?”

“None of your business,” Rose snapped. She really didn’t like doctors. She went once a year for a physical checkup because Liz would nag her until she made the appointment and then show up on the day to drive her there.

“That’s what I thought,” Charlotte said. She brushed cookie crumbs into a little pile and swept them into her hand, dropping them onto her plate. “So make an appointment. Let the doctor check you out. It will prove to Detective Andrews that there’s nothing wrong with you and maybe”—she stressed the word—“maybe the police will take a second look at what happened.”

It was a sensible, logical suggestion because that was the kind of person Charlotte was, but I knew Rose was not in the mood for sensible and logical.

Mr. P. nodded. “I’ll go with you.” He reached across the table for Rose’s hand, but she was already on her feet.

She looked from Alfred to Charlotte. “If Sarah had told you that she saw a body, neither one of you would be suggesting she see a doctor to have her head examined. I am deeply offended.” She stalked out of the apartment, back rigid, before either of them could say anything.

After a moment of silence Mr. P. got to his feet. I caught his arm. “Let her go,” I said.

“Rosie just got out of the hospital, Sarah. She shouldn’t be walking around in the dark,” he said.

“She isn’t. She didn’t even go outside. She’s in my apartment talking to Elvis.”

Mr. P. looked over his shoulder at the door. “I mean no disrespect, my dear,” he said. “But how can you be sure? She’s very angry.”

“Rose is wearing the fuzzy slippers Avery knit for her. It doesn’t matter how angry she is. She knows how proud Avery was when she made them. She’s not going to wear them outside. Right now she’s sitting on my sofa telling Elvis how mad she is at the two of you. And Michelle. And Liz.”

Charlotte took a drink from her cup and set it down again. She got to her feet. “Stay here, Alfred,” she said. “I’ll go talk to her. I’m the one who pushed her over the edge.” She looked over at me. “It’s not that I don’t believe her. I just don’t think it would hurt for her to go see her own doctor.”

I gave her a half smile. “I know that and so does Rose underneath her dramatic exit.” I looked from her to Mr. P. “Go home, both of you. Let me handle things. It will all look better in the morning. I promise.”

“You sound like Isabel,” Charlotte said, referring to my grandmother.

I smiled. “I wish she was here.”

Charlotte smiled as well. “Me, too.”

I stood up, brushing crumbs off my T-shirt. “Please. Go home,” I said. I turned my attention to Mr. P. “I promise I won’t leave Rose alone. I’ll sit by her bed and watch her sleep if I have to.”

Alfred managed a small smile. “That might be a little excessive, my dear,” he said.

“All right. We’ll go,” Charlotte said. She picked up her cup and saucer and Mr. P.’s and carried them over to the sink. Then she came back to the table. She patted Alfred’s arm. “Sarah is right. Rose needs some time to cool down, and I trust Sarah to take care of her.”

He sighed softly. “All right,” he said. He looked at me. “Please tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will,” I promised.

I put the rest of the dishes in the sink and wiped off the table. Charlotte and Mr. P. agreed to share a cab, and I went out on the steps to wait with them. As soon as the taxi pulled away from the curb I headed back inside.

Rose was on the sofa in my apartment. Elvis was sitting next to her. They both looked up when I came in the door. The cat licked his whiskers, which told me Rose had gotten him a treat. Probably more than one.

“Charlotte and Mr. P. have gone home,” I said. I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher in the refrigerator and sat down on the other side of Elvis. “They’re both sorry they upset you. All they want is to be sure you’re all right.”

“Sorry is as sorry does,” she said, a little petulantly, it seemed to me.

“Don’t give me that,” I said, sucking on a chunk of ice. “Mr. P. wanted to go out in the dark to look for you, and Charlotte always has your back. She’s been one of your best friends longer than I’ve been alive.”

Rose stroked Elvis’s fur but didn’t say anything.

“And speaking of best friends who care about you,” I began.

That got her hackles up again. “Sarah Grayson, are you taking Liz’s side over mine?” she challenged.

I slid down until I was basically sitting on my tailbone. “I’m not taking anyone’s side,” I said. “I’m just stating a fact.” I took another sip of my lemonade. “And for the record, if the tables were turned, we both know you’d be telling me to go see a doctor, just to prove there wasn’t anything wrong with my head.”

Rose leaned toward Elvis. “That’s why I like cats,” she said. “They don’t have nearly as much to say as some people do.”

The cat murped his agreement.

I tipped my head back and rolled my neck from side to side. “They can’t drive, either,” I said. “So they can’t take anyone over to see Jeff Cameron’s sister in the morning.”

I stared down into my glass and set the ice cubes swirling. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rose struggling not to smile. She finally lost the battle and leaned against me, grinning. “Do you always get what you want?” she asked.

I rested my head against hers. “No,” I said. “So I’m going to enjoy this little victory.”

Elvis wiggled out from between us, shook himself and jumped down from the sofa.

Rose sighed. “Detective Andrews is a lovely young woman,” she said. “And I do appreciate that she went over to the Camerons’ house with you. She’s a good friend.”

I nodded.

“But she tends to think that the simplest explanation is the right one, and while that might be true most of the time, it’s not true all of the time. Life just isn’t that neat and simple. It’s messy sometimes, and this is one of those times.”

“Yes,” I said. What I didn’t say was that I had a feeling it was about to get a lot messier.