Telling Tails

Chapter 13

There was very little traffic on the way to the sandwich shop. I’d already decided I was going to get another big cup of coffee to go along with my cupcakes. As usual Elvis was watching the road intently. We both saw the moving van blocking the street at the same time, which was, unfortunately a little too late to take a different direction.

I looked in the rearview mirror. There were three cars behind me. “It’s just backing up,” I told the cat. “It shouldn’t take long.”

There was just enough space in the alley for the truck to back up. I watched how skillfully the driver used his mirrors as he inched his way back. Glenn had taken a different route, and up ahead I saw him pulling into his parking lot. And then I caught sight of Liz. She was standing on the sidewalk in front of McNamara’s with . . . Michelle? As I watched, Liz gave her a hug. Michelle crossed the street and Liz got in her car, which was parked right in front of the shop.

“What were they doing?” I said to Elvis.

He gave me a blank look.

“Please tell me Liz isn’t trying to get information out of Michelle.”

The cat almost seemed to shrug. I tipped my head back and looked at the roof of the car. There were no answers up there, either.

Glenn sent me back to my own shop with a large cup of coffee and six of his chocolate mocha cupcakes—which became five very quickly.

I was in my office changing my shoes when Rose poked her head around the door. “Sarah, do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”

“Did you know Cleveland has a younger sister?”

“Our Cleveland?” I asked. I’d been buying from the trash picker since Second Chance opened.

She nodded. “Actually he has three younger sisters and four younger brothers, all half-siblings. Cleveland’s father was not the poster child for monogamy.”

“Duly noted,” I said. “Why is Cleveland’s sister important?”

“Because she goes to Cahill College.” Rose gave me a knowing smile. “I won’t bore you with all the details about Logan’s friends—that’s Cleveland’s sister’s name, Logan. Lovely young woman, by the way.”

“Is this the reason you didn’t come to the library?”

“I was waiting for one of them to call me back.”

“And?” I nudged.

“And it seems that Chloe Sanders was what we would have called a teacher’s pet in my day, although that’s not the expression Logan used.”

I had a pretty good idea what expression Cleveland’s sister had used. “Dr. Durand,” I said.

She nodded. “It appears that Chloe was an excellent student. She even did a couple of projects for extra credit.” Rose twisted the thin gold wedding ring she still wore around her finger. “Unfortunately that kind of thing doesn’t always make you very popular with your fellow students.”

“What does this have to do with Jeff Cameron?”

“It seems that when he was giving that lecture at Cahill, he said he was planning on hiring an assistant for the summer. Two of Logan’s friends said that Chloe really wanted that job. She called it her big chance.”

I rubbed the side of my neck. “Big chance for what?”

“I’m still working on that,” Rose said. “I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “Before you go, Glenn told me something that may or may not be important.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”

“That he saw Jeff Cameron early Thursday morning.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “More evidence that he faked his death.”

“You know what Nick and Michelle will say,” I said.

“That people mistake identities of people in cars and mix up dates all the time and this kind of information is very unreliable. As my mother used to say, ‘Horsefeathers!’” She reached over, plucked a dust ball out of my hair, patted my cheek and left.

It was a busy afternoon. It seemed as if every tourist passing by North Harbor decided to visit the store. No one had specifically asked me if I’d call Michelle so we could update her on what Mr. P. had learned about Jeff Cameron. By the end of the day they just all seemed to decide that that’s what would happen.

Rose and Mr. P. were having dinner with Charlotte. “Why don’t you join us?” Charlotte said.

“Thank you,” I said. “But I want to go for a run. Next time, though.”

Mac was crewing for someone who’d lost one of his regulars when the man had eloped to Las Vegas. I’d sent him off an hour earlier.

“Is your grandmother picking you up?” I asked Avery.

She shook her head. “Nonna’s having dinner with Mr. Caulfield.”

I did a double take. “Channing Caulfield?”

“Yeah. The money guy. Nonna said he wore her down.” She had her backpack and the accordion in a brown paper shopping bag.

“Do you need a ride?”

She hiked the backpack up onto one shoulder. “Nope. I’m going to the library. This is totally the best day of the anime festival—Mr. Dough and the Egg Princess, Mei and the Kitten Bus and two films from the Dragon Ball series.”

“Have fun,” I said.

Elvis was waiting for me at the back door. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” I said. He climbed into the front seat of the SUV and I set a bag of tea towels on the floor of the passenger-side seat. The cat eyed the brown paper bag, whiskers twitching. Then he looked at me.

“Yes, the cupcakes are in there,” I said.

He licked his whiskers.

“Cupcakes are people food.”

His green eyes went to slits, making his skepticism very clear.

“What should we have for supper?” I asked once I’d backed the SUV into the driveway at home and gotten out.

Elvis eyed the paper shopping bag still on the floor at his feet.

“Cupcakes are not supper,” I said.

“Merow,” he said, and I could have sworn I could detect sarcasm in his tone. Did cats even understand sarcasm? I wondered.

“Yes, I know we’ve had cupcakes for supper before, but I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.”

He tilted his head to one side and regarded me unblinkingly. I was pretty sure this cat, at least, got sarcasm.

I leaned across the seat to grab the bag of tea towels. I was going to wash and iron them and Jess was going to make pillow covers out of them for me. Elvis walked along the seat and jumped down to the driveway. I backed out of the car. “Hey, where are you going?” I said.

“Murp,” he said, and then he disappeared around the side of the house. Translation: backyard.

Friday night and even my cat seemed to have plans. I thought about my brother, Liam, teasing me about my lack of a love life or a social life. He’d been back and forth for the last several months, consulting on a development project for part of the harbor front that after too many delays and roadblocks would finally be getting under way at the end of August.

“I’d say you live like a little old lady, but Rose is a little old lady and she gets out way more than you do,” he’d said the last time he’d been in town, as he sprawled on my sofa eating a bowl of chocolate pudding cake that Rose had dropped off on her way to meet Mr. P.

Since I didn’t have a comeback, I’d stuck my tongue out at him. That had made him laugh, and then he suggested I could stick that tongue in Nick’s mouth and maybe that would spice up my life. I’d thrown a pillow at him.

Nick. Even Liam thought we should get together, although his idea of getting together didn’t seem to involve me in a lacy white dress and Nick in a suit the way Charlotte, Rose and Liz’s did.

I changed into my running gear and went out onto the back verandah to see where Elvis was. He was sitting on a small wrought-iron bench next to the raised flower bed that Rose and Mr. P. had planted with sunflowers.

I held the door open. “Are you coming in?” I asked. He ignored me, looking in the direction of my neighbor, Tom Harris’s yard. I may as well have been talking to the sunflowers. “I’m going running,” I said. “We can eat when I get back.” I felt a little foolish explaining myself to a cat.

I decided it was a good chance to take a longer, more challenging route than I’d picked the times Nick had gone running with me. He wasn’t a runner, and it had been harder than I’d expected to rein myself in and not leave him behind.

I needed to talk to him. I couldn’t avoid him much longer. Charlotte would notice. Or Rose. I thought about Mac asking me why Nick and I had never gotten together. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him our timing had been off. But Mac had been right when he’d pointed out that we’d both been back in North Harbor for more than a year and still nothing had happened. And it wasn’t like all three of my fairy godmothers hadn’t been pushing us together.

What was stopping me from pursuing a relationship with Nick? At fifteen that was all I’d wanted. What was different now? We’d made tiny moves toward each other, but they never seemed to go anywhere. Was Nick even interested? He’d come running with me. He’d eaten my cooking. The latter had to mean something.

I had a headache. Why did relationships have to be so much work?

I showered when I got home and pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of baggy cut-off sweatpants. Since my only company was going to be Elvis—at least I was assuming he’d be spending time with me—I decided I might as well be comfortable. This time when I walked out onto the verandah he immediately came across the grass. He followed me back inside and joined me in front of the refrigerator while I tried to decide what to have for supper.

“Spaghetti or salad?” I asked the cat.

He yawned.

“Pizza it is,” I said.

Once we were settled on the sofa with a big slice for me and some of Rose’s treats for him, I called Michelle. “Could you stop by the shop sometime on Monday?” I asked. “The Angels have some information about Jeff Cameron they’d like to share.”

“Have you spoken to Nick?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I was out of the shop this morning. And by the way, did Glenn McNamara call you?”

“He did.” She hesitated for a moment. “You know what the odds are on the reliability of this kind of witness sighting?”

“I know,” I said. I didn’t say “horsefeathers,” but I was thinking it.

“Are you taking on some kind of job for Glenn?”

I popped two black olives in my mouth. It was clear Michelle wanted to change the subject. “Maybe. For his uncle, actually.”

“So are you angling to get paid in blueberry muffins?” she teased.

“Chocolate cupcakes, actually,” I said.

“The ones with the mocha frosting. They are good.”

I waited for her to say that she’d been at McNamara’s today, but she didn’t. Odd.

“How was your day?” I asked, feeling a twinge of guilt for fishing.

“Full of meetings and paperwork. I didn’t even go out for lunch.”

I could have asked her straight out what she’d been doing with Liz, but I decided not to. Maybe Liz had been pushing over what had happened to Rose. Maybe Michelle didn’t want to tell me that she’d had to ask Liz to back off.

“Anyway, Nick should have the results from the blood work on Monday,” she said. “The lab is a bit backed up. That’s why he didn’t get them today.”

It seemed as though Nick hadn’t told her about our argument. I decided I wasn’t going to, either.

“Thanks for telling me,” I said. I held out a piece of bacon to Elvis. At least when I spent the evening with him I could have exactly what I wanted on my pizza.

“I could stop by late morning on Monday,” Michelle offered. “Would sometime around ten thirty be okay?” Once again I suspected she was motivated more by our friendship than by the desire to find out what Rose and her cohorts had come up with.

“That would be great,” I said. “Thank you.”

“See you Monday,” she said.

I ended the call but held on to the phone. I hadn’t been able to figure out why the name Vega had sounded familiar when Avery had told us it was the last name of the man she’d seen with Leesa Cameron. Jess knew a lot of people. Maybe the name would mean something to her. She was probably out on a date, but I decided to call her anyway. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, what are you doing home on a Friday night?” I said.

“A last-minute fix on a wedding dress.” She muttered something I didn’t catch. “Bride and her mother brought it in. I’m not sure which one was crying harder.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Next Friday night.”

“Ouch!” I said.

“It’s not that bad,” Jess said. “I’ve pretty much got the skirt fixed, and the bride is coming in Monday so I can fit the bodice. What are you doing home on a Friday night?”

“Eating pizza with Elvis. He didn’t feel like going out.”

Jess laughed. “I think he said that last Friday night, too.”

“I have a quick question for you,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“Why does the last name Vega seem familiar to me? Do you know anyone in town who’s a Vega?”

“Michael Vega,” Jess immediately said. “He’s a sports massage therapist. And I’m pretty sure he takes a few clients as a personal trainer. Elin went to him last year after she broke her arm.” Elin was one of her partners in the store.

“That’s it,” I said. I remembered Elin telling me how the massage therapist had helped restore the full range of motion in her arm.

“I thought Nick was going running with you,” Jess teased. “Is the big guy not willing to rub you the right way?”

“I’m hanging up now,” I said.

Jess was laughing. “I’ll see you Sunday,” she said before ending the call.

It was busy from the moment we opened the shop on Saturday. The tourists never seemed to stop coming. I only had time for half a sandwich at lunch. Thankfully, Mr. P. kept us supplied with coffee.

“How do you feel about Chinese food?” Liz asked as I locked the front door at the end of the day. She’d arrived a few minutes earlier to pick up Avery.

I blew a stray strand of hair back off my face. “Do you mean authentic Chinese cuisine or the American takeout version?”

Liz narrowed her gaze at me. “I mean Chinese food that you don’t have to cook.”

“Love it,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “It’s the last night of that film thing at the library so it turns out Avery won’t be home for supper and I probably ordered enough food for half a dozen people.”

“Merow!” Elvis interjected from his perch about halfway up the stairs.

Liz waved a hand in the direction of the steps. “Yes, you’re invited, too.”

Elvis bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

“Hey, I missed you yesterday,” I said to Liz. “Where were you?”

“I had Emmerson Foundation business. Did you want something?” No mention of meeting Michelle.

I explained about being out at Clayton McNamara’s place. “I didn’t know that Gram had a connection to the McNamaras.”

“Those two were thick as thieves when they were kids,” Liz said. “Clayton McNamara could have been your grandfather.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” I said.

She laughed and started for the workroom to collect Avery. “I’ll see you later, toots.”

Elvis and I ended up spending the whole evening with Liz. Charlotte had found a box full of old photos of herself, Liz, Rose and Gram, taken when they were teenagers. She’d organized them by year and left them with Liz to go through, to see which ones Liz wanted copies of.

“Hey, you were a babe,” I teased, holding up a black and white snapshot of Liz in a one-piece swimsuit, standing on a rock by the shore, one hand on her hip, the other behind her head.

“Give me that!” She reached across the table for the photo.

I grinned and shook my head, holding the picture up out of her reach. “No way. I think I’ve found my Christmas card for this year.”

“You are a wicked child,” Liz said, glaring and pointing a finger at me. “I’m going to find one of those droopy diaper photos of you and that’s going to be my Christmas card this year.”

I laughed, thinking that spending the evening with Liz was way more fun than making awkward small talk on a date. Not that that had actually been an option.

Jess and I went prowling around several flea markets on Sunday and came home with the back of the SUV loaded. Elvis spent the day with Rose and Mr. P. and came home smelling like fish cakes.

I headed in early on Monday. Liz was bringing Rose and Alfred later. I wanted to spray the wicker chairs before it got busy, since I’d never actually gotten to it on Friday or Saturday.

I pulled into the lot to find a white extended-cab half-ton backed up to the rear door. Mac was helping two men in white shirts and loosened ties load a huge walnut armoire into the bed of the truck. He shook hands with both of them and they climbed into the cab and pulled out of the lot. I smiled and raised a hand in greeting as they came past me, and they did the same even though I had no idea who either of the men was.

Mac brushed off his hands and walked over to me. “Hi. You’re up early,” he said. He reached over to scratch the top of Elvis’s head.

“You, too,” I said. “You sold that armoire that’s been in the front window for the last month. Or we were just robbed by two very well-dressed criminals.”

“I sold the armoire.” He gestured toward the street. “They were driving by, saw it in the window and then noticed me in the garage and came to ask me about it. I took them inside to have a look and they asked if they could buy it.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind me saying yes.”

Elvis squirmed in my arms and I set him down. He headed for the back door. “I don’t mind,” I said. “I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to sell that thing. It’s a nice piece of furniture but it’s so big.”

“I know. That’s why they wanted it. They just bought a bed-and-breakfast in Camden—Herrier House. Does the name mean anything to you?”

I nodded.

“They’re redoing the entire place and I thought since they’re in the market for more furniture and other things it would be a good idea to accommodate them today. They were on their way to a funeral in Portland—that’s why the ties and starched shirts. They stopped for coffee and ended up driving by because they were trying to get back out to the highway.” He smiled. “Lucky for us.”

“More like lucky for me that you were here,” I said as we started for the back door, where Elvis had positioned himself, staring expectantly as though he could somehow will it to open. “I owe you for this.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “If I worked anywhere else I wouldn’t be able to arrange my days to get to sail as much as I do. You make that work. I owe you for that.”

“Mac, I rearrange things so Rose and her band of merry angels can chase bad guys. Adjusting the schedule so you can sail is a piece of cake.”

Mac held the back door open for Elvis, who meowed a thank-you and headed inside. “Do you know what’s on their schedule for today?” he asked as we stepped inside.

“Michelle is going to stop by sometime around ten thirty. Mr. P. says he doesn’t want to sneak around behind her back. He wants to share what we know about Jeff Cameron changing his name.”

“Do you think that might convince the police that Rose really did see his body?” Mac asked. I handed him the bag of clean dish towels and he set it up on the workbench.

I exhaled loudly. “Between you and me? No. And Rose isn’t going to stop until she proves that she did.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “There’s something I need your opinion on.”

“What is it?”

“Glenn told me Saturday that he saw Jeff Cameron driving early Thursday morning.”

One eyebrow went up. “Thursday morning? Is he certain?”

“That’s the thing. He’s certain about the day. He says it was Jeff’s Jeep—that glow-in-the-dark yellow color is pretty distinctive. And he’s positive it was a man driving. Heck, he’s positive it was Jeff driving.”

Mac studied my face. “But you’re not so sure.”

“It was early and he saw the Jeep from a distance.”

Mac put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s really bothering you?”

“If Jeff Cameron is alive, why hasn’t he used a credit or a debit card?”

“Because he’s trying to keep the charade that his wife murdered him going.”

“But why?” I held out both hands. “That’s what I can’t figure out. Why?”

“Would a cup of coffee help?” Mac asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Or maybe you should bring the pot and a straw.”

Mac laughed. “It’ll work out in the end.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” I asked.

He smiled. “Because it always does.”

I managed to get both chairs sprayed and was just cleaning up when I looked up to see Nick getting out of his truck. I waited, one paint-speckled hand on the top of my makeshift spray box, as he walked over to me.

“Hi,” he said. “Michelle asked me to come by to hear what Rose and the others came up with.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Nick shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry for what happened Thursday night. I should have been straight with you.”

I believed him. I could see that he was sorry in the way he was standing, in his voice, in the way his fingers played with his watchband. But what he was sorry about was pretending he agreed with me. He wasn’t sorry for not believing Rose.

“Thank you,” I said.

He opened his mouth to say something else and I caught sight of Rose headed toward us.

She gave him an expectant smile. “Do you have any results yet?”

Nick shook his head and pulled his gaze away from me. “No. I’m sorry it’s taking so long. The lab is busy, but I should have something this afternoon. I promise I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “We missed you Saturday night. Alfred planked a salmon.”

“I know. Mom fed me the leftovers for lunch yesterday.” He smiled at Rose. “I have to give my compliments to the chef. He’s a good cook.”

“Alfred has many talents,” Rose replied.

I made a mental note to ask her later what planking a salmon meant and to stay away from any conversation about Mr. P’s many other talents. I picked up the cut-down cardboard box and set it inside the garage. Then I stood in the doorway for a moment watching Rose and Nick talk. The conversation seemed to be about cooking, although I couldn’t hear every word.

I reminded myself that Nick loved Rose. She was family to him just as much as she was to me. He was loyal and protective and funny and kind and a lot more. And there was something wrong if I always had to be reminding myself of that, I thought as I joined them again.

Michelle arrived then, pulling her car in next to Nick’s truck. She walked over to us. “How are you feeling?” she said to Rose.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Rose said. She patted her white hair. “I guess I am as hardheaded as I’ve been told I am.”

“Well, this is one of those times I’m glad about that,” Michelle said. “I hope it’s all right that I asked Nick to join us.”

“Of course it is,” Rose said. “We’re always happy to have Nick around, aren’t we, Sarah?”

Nick swiped a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.

“Always,” I agreed, “especially when he brings muffins from McNamara’s.” I smiled sweetly up at Nick, hoping he’d get my reference to a past disagreement we’d had when he’d apologized with one of Glenn’s muffins.

“So you’re suggesting I should stop in at McNamara’s the next time I’m headed here?” he teased.

“You’re so thoughtful,” Rose said. “We all like Glenn’s blueberry muffins, but this time of year the rhubarb streusel muffins are hard to say no to.” She smiled at him.

Michelle had a hard time not smiling as well. “Is Mr. Peterson inside?” she asked.

I nodded and we started across the lot to the back door. Mr. P. got to his feet as we stepped into the sunporch. “Hello, Detective Andrews,” he said, offering his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m interested in what you’ve learned,” Michelle said, dipping her head in the direction of his laptop.

Mr. P. smiled up at Nick. “Hello, Nicolas,” he said. “Are you joining us?”

Michelle immediately spoke up. “I asked him to. I hope it’s all right.”

“Of course,” Mr. P. said. He quickly explained what the Angels had learned about Jeff Cameron, how he’d changed his name and walked away from his life after his grandmother died. How no one had seen him with any other woman in North Harbor.

“His name was Hennessy?” Michelle said. She seemed to be taking what he’d told her and Nick seriously.

Mr. P. nodded. “Two ‘s’s,’ two ‘n’s,’” he said.

“Do you have a theory as to where Jeff Cameron is right now?” she asked.

“We have two,” he said. “One is that he’s dead. The other is that he set up his wife to make it look like he’s dead, although we don’t have any idea why.”

Nick’s and Michelle’s cell phones both rang then. “Excuse me,” she said, pulling hers from the pocket of her cotton sweater and turning around so her back was to us. Nick had already stepped out of the room to answer his.

The conversation was brief. Michelle’s face was expressionless when she faced us again. “Well, Mr. Peterson, I’m sorry to tell you that one of your theories is wrong. Jeff Cameron definitely didn’t fake his death.”

My heart sank. Nick was putting his own phone back in his pocket, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“What makes you so sure?” Mr. P. asked, although I suspected he knew the answer, too.

“A couple of rock climbers on Johnson’s Reach found him. I’m sorry. He’s dead.”