Telling Tails

Chapter 16

The Angels spent most of Tuesday morning checking out Michael Vega. The more they found out, the harder it was for any of us to believe he’d been having an affair with Leesa Cameron. Everyone, it seemed, said the same thing about the man; he was a good guy and a straight arrow.

“I talked to Ann at the library,” Charlotte said when she arrived for her shift, referring to the head librarian at the North Harbor Public Library. “Michael Vega built the new puppet theater in the children’s department. Not only did he volunteer his time on a Saturday; he had the kids helping.”

“He sounds like a nice guy,” I said.

“If you’re talking about Mr. Vega, it seems he’s pretty much perfect,” Liz said. She’d just come in the front door and she walked over to us, her high heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“What did you find out? What did Elspeth say?” Charlotte asked.

“I haven’t talked to her yet,” Liz said. “It occurred to me that maybe Jane Evans might know the man.” She looked at me. “Jess said he was a sports massage therapist. Remember? Jane injured her back last winter when she fell on the sidewalk. I know she went to someone for a massage.”

“I remember,” I said. What I also remembered was how Liz had arranged for a weekly cleaning service at Jane’s house until she could get around.

“Well, small town, small world—it was Michael Vega who worked on her back.”

“What did she say?” Charlotte asked.

“Oh, Jane pretty much thinks he walks on water. Not only did he do wonders for her back, but he’s also a devoted family man. She told me about this romantic dinner he planned and pulled off for his wife’s birthday.” She gave us a wry smile. “He and their four kids took her on a scavenger hunt to all the important places in their life—where they went for their first date, where he proposed, the little chapel where they got married. It ended with a catered picnic up at the park.” Liz rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly a romantic.

“That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a man having an affair would do,” Charlotte said.

“It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing most of the men I know would do,” Liz countered. “He had to have been up to something. No man is that perfect.” She looked over at me. “And don’t tell me I sound like a cynical old woman.”

“I would never do that,” I said, putting a hand to my chest in umbrage.

“Good,” she said.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not stupid enough to ever tell you you’re old.” I could hear Charlotte laughing as I headed for the door.

I went outside to talk to Mac, who was sanding a small metal cabinet. I had a couple of questions about my plan for Clayton McNamara’s house. He agreed with my estimate for the cost of the job and we talked for a few minutes about when we could fit the work into our schedule.

I was back in my office, working on a plan of attack for Clayton’s house, when Nick called.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he said. He sounded a bit off.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I got the results from Rose’s blood tests. I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you.”

“That’s all right.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What did you find out?”

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “And Rose and, hell, probably Jess, too.”

“Rose didn’t have a stroke.” I didn’t make the words a question because I already knew the answer.

“No. You can say ‘I told you so.’”

I pictured him shaking his head and probably raking a hand back through his hair. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Jess will.”

I laughed, leaning back in my desk chair. “Yep. She probably will.”

“I still don’t think Rose and my mother and the rest of them have any business getting involved in Michelle’s cases,” he said with just a little I know I’m right-ness in his voice.

“I get that,” I said. I didn’t add that that was the problem. “More importantly, though, was Rose drugged?”

“She was. Methohexital. They found very small amounts of it in her blood.”

I couldn’t help it. “I knew it!” I said, pumping my fist in the air.

“She was attacked,” Nick said. “I should have listened to her. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

I took a moment before I spoke. “I know you are. Maybe from now on just try to keep an open mind when it comes to Rose and the others.”

“I am trying, Sarah,” he said quietly.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I know.”

“I already gave everything to Michelle. You’ll probably hear from her. And if anyone was helping Leesa Cameron, we’ll find them. I promise you that.”

“Do you know yet how she died?” I asked. I didn’t really expect him to tell me.

“The autopsy hasn’t been done,” Nick said. “But you saw the vodka bottle.”

“And the pill bottle.”

“Sleeping pills. She had a prescription for them.”

“What about Jeff Cameron?”

“C’mon, you know I can’t tell you that.”

I didn’t say anything. Nick sighed. “He drowned.”

“Drowned?” I whispered.

“He was hit over the head first.”

“That would explain why there was no blood in the kitchen.”

“It answers some questions and it raises others,” he said.

I knew it would be pushing it to ask what he meant. I thanked him for calling and said good-bye.

I’d just come back from the staff room with a cup of coffee when my phone rang again. I leaned over to check the screen. It was Michelle.

“Hi, Sarah. Did Nick call you?” she asked.

“About five minutes ago,” I said.

“So you know what the blood tests show.”

“He told me about the traces of the drug they found.”

“Rose was attacked and I dismissed what happened as just her being old,” Michelle said. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “Rose will, too.”

“We’re still investigating, and I won’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”

“Then, as Gram would say, ‘You learned something.’” I took a sip of my coffee. “And I don’t want to sound like some public service announcement, but you weren’t completely off base. Most strokes happen in people over sixty-five, which Rose is, and more women have strokes than men. You could have been right.” It was easy to be magnanimous when I’d been proved right.

“I could have looked at all the possibilities, not just one.”

“So you do that next time. C’mon, Michelle. You know there’s going to be a next time with Rose and the rest of them.”

She laughed then. “There probably will be.”

“So,” I said. “I know you can’t give me any details about your investigation, but can you at least tell me if you think it will be wrapped up soon?”

There was silence and I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said, “Honestly, Sarah. I don’t know.”

There wasn’t much more to say after that. I thanked her for calling and promised to be in touch if the Angels came up with anything. I went downstairs and found Rose out in the sunporch with Mr. P. I came up behind her and put my arms around her shoulders. “I talked to Nick,” I said.

She turned her head and looked up at me. “And?”

“And there were traces of methohexital in your blood.”

A triumphant smile spread across her face.

“So someone did drug Rosie?” Mr. P. said.

I nodded.

“We wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t seen the needle mark on my neck,” Rose said. She leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment before I let go.

“That was mostly luck,” I said.

“Maybe,” Mr. P. said. “You’re also very observant, Sarah.”

“I will admit I do like being vindicated,” Rose said, “but I don’t know how this information is going to help us.”

I rested a hand on the table Mr. P. was using as a desk. “Nick said dentists often use the drug because it acts quickly and the effects only last for a short period of time.”

“Leesa Cameron was a buyer for a chain of stores,” Mr. P. said.

“No one has any connection to any dentist,” Rose said.

I shook my head vigorously in frustration. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“So do I,” she said.

I tapped the back of my head with three fingers. “There’s something back here. I just can’t pull it out.”

“Give it time,” Mr. P. said with a smile. “You know what they say about two heads being better than one.”

I held up one hand and ticked off the fingers. “All right. But really, there’s you, Rose, Liz, Charlotte and me. If two heads are better than one, what are five?”

“A basketball team,” Rose said.

I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I have work to do,” I said and started for the store.

“Love you, sweetie,” she called after me.

“Just because you were vindicated doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep having a regular checkup once a year.” I stopped and turned back to look at her standing in the doorway.

“Don’t you have to get back to work, dear?” she asked sweetly.

I pointed a finger at her. “This conversation is not over,” I said.

She blew me a kiss and disappeared back into the sunporch.

It was a quiet morning at the shop, no bus tours and few tourists coming off the highway, probably because it was raining and people just wanted to get wherever they were going. Just before lunch I called Sam to see if I could get a second opinion on Mac’s accordion. Liz had already threatened to show up at two a.m. with the other accordion he’d given to Avery and play Queen’s “We Will Rock You” outside his bedroom window.

Mac had laughed and Liz had patted his cheek. “It’s fricking cute how you think I’m kidding,” she’d said.

Sam was in his office when I got to the pub. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk, his dark-framed glasses halfway down his nose.

“Knock, knock,” I said.

Sam looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said. “That was fast.”

“The shop’s quiet,” I said, pulling off my raincoat and draping it on the back of a chair. I set the bag with the accordion on the sofa.

Sam came around the desk and gave me a hug. “Where did you get an accordion anyway?” he asked.

“Mac,” I said, “and actually it was two accordions.” I told him the story of Mac helping Glenn move his uncle’s couch and being offered the accordions or the growler of beer.

Sam laughed. “From what I know of Clayton’s place, you could probably fill your store twice over, with enough stuff left for a good-size storage unit.”

“I know,” I said. “And it may come to that. I’m putting a proposal together for Glenn and his cousin for us to get the house a little more habitable.”

“Good luck with that,” Sam said. “Clayton has always been a bit of a pack rat.

He lifted the accordion out of the shopping bag I’d put it in. I leaned against his desk while he turned it over and examined the instrument from every angle. Finally he looked at me. “So what were you thinking?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Somewhere between four and five hundred.”

Sam nodded. “I don’t see why you won’t get that.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“Do you have time for a sandwich?” he asked. “Applewood smoked bacon and fresh tomatoes.”

“That does sound good,” I said.

Sam pointed at the sofa. “Sit. I won’t be long.”

I sat. From the couch I could see Sam’s photos from the early days of the pub and the band. My dad was in several of them. It always made me feel good to see them. He’d died when I was five, and both my mother and Gram had worked to keep my memories of him alive, but it was when I was with Sam that I seemed to feel the closest to him.

Sam came back with sandwiches and coffee for both of us. I groaned with happiness after the first bite of my sandwich. “What is this bread?” I said, my mouth half-full of food. “It’s really good.”

“Honey beer bread,” Sam said, wiping a dab of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. “Glenn made it.” His mouth twitched and he started to laugh. “I guess he had to settle for the beer since Mac took the accordions.”

I laughed. “Well, that worked out well, because I’m not sure Mac can make bread, although Rose would probably be happy to give him lessons.”

Sam’s expression grew serious. “I heard the police found Jeff Cameron’s body.”

I nodded.

“Rumor has it his wife killed herself.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Rumors are usually pretty accurate,” I said.

Sam reached for his coffee. “I forgot to tell you when I saw you last week. I actually saw him—it would have been Monday—having some kind of heated conversation with someone.”

“What do you mean by heated conversation?” I asked.

“Raised voices, mostly,” he said. “Although I wasn’t close enough to make out what was being said.”

“Was this a male someone he was having the conversation with or a female someone?”

“Male.” Sam leaned back and draped his free arm along the back of his chair. “My height, bit bigger build, hair cut close to his head.” He frowned. “Why the questions?”

“No reason, really,” I said.

“Rose isn’t ready to let this go.”

“Pretty much.”

Sam let out a breath. “Just be careful, all right?”

I nodded. “I will. I promise.”

The conversation turned to the bands Sam had lined up for the rest of the summer, and then I collected the accordion, gave him a hug and left. I hadn’t said anything to Sam, but the description of the mystery man arguing with Jeff Cameron matched the photo of Mike Vega that Mr. P. had found online. As I drove back to the shop I wondered why anyone ever bothered to commit a crime in a small town like North Harbor. It seemed someone who knew someone who knew you was always watching.

We made up for the quiet morning with a busload of tourists in the afternoon on their way from Boston to Newfoundland who dripped all over the shop but spent enough that I didn’t really mind. Just before we closed Rose came to find me. I was in the back, looking for a box of dishes.

“Two things,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, turning to face her. “What’s number one?”

“Charlotte talked to Maddie. Maddie said that when Chloe’s parents were out of town someone was staying with her. She has no idea who, but she saw someone getting into Chloe’s car a couple of times. The person was wearing a hoodie with the hood over their face.”

“Interesting.”

Rose nodded. “I thought so.”

“So what’s number two?” I asked.

“I know why Chloe worked so hard to get the job with Jeff Cameron,” she said, a self-congratulatory, cat-that-swallowed-the-canary expression on her face.

I pushed a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “It wasn’t because they were having an affair, was it?”

“Heavens, no!” Rose made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “What happened is, I started thinking, what would make her so eager to have that particular job?”

“And?”

“Why do people do anything?” she asked. “Sex, money, power.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

“You eliminated sex.”

“I’m not saying Jeff Cameron wasn’t an attractive man, at least physically, but he seemed a little long in the tooth for someone Chloe’s age. And no one I talked to seemed to think she was interested in him in that way. In fact, she didn’t seem to be interested in anyone. Up to the point that she took the semester off, all of her focus was on her studies.”

I leaned against the workbench. “Okay, so sex is out. What about money?”

“Chloe turned down a job at the library that would have paid more.”

“Really?” I said.

Rose nodded. “She had experience. She worked there during high school.”

“That leaves power,” I said. “What kind of power did Chloe Sanders get by working for Jeff Cameron?”

The smile returned to Rose’s face. “I don’t think she was looking to gain power. I think she was looking to use his, or to be more exact, his influence. Chloe wanted to transfer to the BA/MA program in international studies at Johns Hopkins.

I looked blankly at her.

“She needed a recommendation from someone with international business experience.”

“Jeff.”

Rose nodded. “Yes. And one of the professors on the acceptance committee worked at Helmark at one time. I think Chloe was researching the members of the committee and that’s why she went to Jeff’s lecture. When he mentioned he was going to hire an assistant for the summer, it must have seemed like the perfect opportunity to her. Remember, she did say it was her big chance.”

“So how is that a motive for her to have killed him?”

“Because the deadline for all supporting documents is two days from now and the only reference they’ve received for Chloe came from one of her professors.”

I swiped a hand over my neck. “From Dr. Durand.”

Rose nodded.

“I can’t figure out how she’s tied up in all of this,” I said.

“She does seem to be involved somehow, doesn’t she?” Rose said.

“So you think what?” I asked. “That Jeff promised to give Chloe a recommendation and then reneged on that promise so she killed him or helped Leesa do it?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Chloe Sanders is a very competitive young woman.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. She was on the debate team Charlotte coached.”

“And Charlotte admitted that Chloe wasn’t always a good loser.”

I rubbed my neck again. This case was becoming a giant pain in the neck. “It’s a long way from being a poor loser to killing someone,” I said.

Rose shrugged. “Not nearly as long as you might think.” She bent down to pick up a lag bolt that was lying on the floor.

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“Ardith Cramer.” Rose straightened up and handed the large screw to me. I set it on the bench.

“Who’s Ardith Cramer?”

“She was one of my best students. It turns out that she works in the registrar’s office at Cahill College. Wasn’t that convenient?”

“Very,” I said. Between the three of them—Rose, Charlotte and Liz—it seemed they knew everyone in town. I knew from experience, it was not always a good thing. “We need to talk to Chloe again.”

“Already in the works,” Rose said. She reached over and patted my cheek. “Try to keep up, dear.”

At the end of the day I sent everyone home and stayed behind to wipe up the footprint-covered floor.

“Can I help?” Mac asked.

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” I looked at the floor. “It looks like we were giving tango lessons and put the footprints all over the floor for people to follow.”

Mac squinted at the wide wooden boards. “It looks more like moonwalking than the tango.”

“Does that mean you know how to tango?” I asked.

He smiled. “I might.” He took the broom from my hands. “I’ll sweep; you mop. It’ll be faster.”

We started at the far end of the store by the cash desk. I let Mac get a head start. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you,” he said. “What did Sam say about the accordion?”

“He agrees with me—we should be able to get four or five hundred dollars for it.”

Mac grinned. “I really am glad I didn’t take the growler of beer.”

“Me, too,” I said. I told him about Glenn’s beer bread.

“Is that the same as making lemonade out of lemons?” he teased.

“Very funny,” I said, “although I think you’re right.”

“Did you get the message I left on your desk?” Mac asked. “Nick called again.”

I dunked the sponge mop in the bucket of hot water and oil soap, used the handle to squeeze out the excess and starting mopping along the baseboard. “I got it. Thanks,” I said. “I called him back but I just got his voice mail. It’s probably just about Thursday night. He’s been meeting Jess and me at the jam.”

“Are things okay with you two?” Mac looked up from his sweeping.

“Yes,” I said. “Maybe.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Rose isn’t going to stop until she gets answers that satisfy her. Which means she’s probably going to bang heads with Nick again.”

“You think she’s right?”

I scrubbed at a stubborn splotch of dirt on the floor. “Between you and me, yeah, I do. It’s all just too neat, like a present tied up with a bow. Real life isn’t like that. It’s messy. You can’t put all the pieces in a box and close the lid, to stretch the metaphor.”

Mac lifted a chair to sweep underneath it. “So what’s next?”

“Rose and Mr. P. are going to talk to Michael Vega tomorrow.” I shook my head. “And I didn’t tell you. When I was down at the pub Sam told me he saw Jeff Cameron arguing with a man a couple of days before Rose was attacked.”

“Let me guess,” Mac said. “It was Vega.”

“The description matches him, which probably means it was him.” I dunked the mop again. “You know what really bothers me?” I said. “Why did Leesa Cameron go along with Nicole giving her an alibi?”

“Because otherwise she didn’t have one?”

I shook my head. “No. I mean what made her think Nicole wouldn’t back out and tell the truth at some point? Jeff was Nicole’s brother. I’m surprised Leesa didn’t realize the alibi would eventually fall apart. No matter how mad I got at Liam, my first loyalty would always be to him because he’s my brother.”

“Not all siblings are like the two of you.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

For a moment Mac didn’t speak; then he said, “I have a brother. We’re not like you and Liam.”

“I guess I’m lucky.”

“So is Liam,” he said. He made it to the stairs and leaned the broom against the railing. “I’m just going to get the dustpan. I think it’s in the staff room.” He headed up the steps two at a time.

So Mac had a brother. I thought about his apartment upstairs that didn’t have a single photograph of anyone. As far as I knew, no one had visited in the more than eighteen months he’d been in town. What had happened in Mac’s previous life? Maybe that was the real mystery.