The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

Chapter 11

It was raining when I woke up in the morning. I lay in bed watching the rain make tiny rivers down the window. I’d set the clock earlier than usual so I could get a run in before work. Ever since Nick had shown up at the shop I’d been filled with a restless energy that I needed to burn off but I didn’t want to burn it off running through puddles and getting splashed by cars.

A loud meow came from the chair by the window.

“I know I said I was going running but it’s raining.” I pulled the pillow over my head. Half a minute later Elvis landed on my chest. I lifted the pillow so I could see him. Was I imagining the reproach that seemed to be in his green eyes?

“It’s raining,” I said again. “Wet feet. Wet everything. I’m not a duck.”

“Mrr,” he said.

That could have been a reminder that I’d said I was going for a run, no excuses. It also could have been his way of pointing out that I did have all the rain gear I needed to go for a run no matter what the weather was like.

Elvis leaned forward and butted my chin with his furry head.

Or it could have been his way of saying, “Get up; it’s time for breakfast.” Either way I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep.

“Fine. You win. I’m getting up.”

I swear the cat smiled at me. I picked him up with one hand and sat up. “I’ll get your breakfast,” I said, giving the top of his head a scratch.

He nuzzled my hand, then wriggled free, jumped down to the floor and headed for the kitchen.

I was tempted to stretch out again but I knew I had a maximum of five minutes before Elvis would be back to roust me again.

I stretched, went to the bathroom, and padded out to the living room in my new fuzzy ladybug slippers. Elvis was sitting on a stool at the counter. My favorite running shoes had been nudged almost into the middle of the floor.

“What are you? The exercise police?” I asked.

He gave what seemed to me to be an indifferent shrug. “You’re as single-minded as Nick sometimes,” I said as I went to get his breakfast.

Nick. Thinking about our truce of sorts made me antsy all over again.

I got Elvis his breakfast and headed back to the bedroom to put on my running clothes. He was still eating as I sat on the living room floor and reached for my shoes.

“This doesn’t mean you won,” I said.

He didn’t so much as lift his head from his bowl but he did make a rumbly noise low in his throat, which I knew meant in fact he knew he had.

Because it was so wet and because as I had pointed out to Elvis I was not a duck I decided to run the second-floor track at the hockey rink. There were a few die-hard walkers who smiled hello at me but by the time I was approaching my last few circuits I had the place to myself.

I was on my second-to-last lap when Michelle came in carrying two take-out cups. She smiled at me and I held up two fingers to let her know I had only two more laps left.

When I finished I walked over to Michelle, who held out one of the cups. “From McNamara’s.”

“Bless you,” I said. This counted as rehydrating, didn’t it? I took a long sip of the coffee and gave a small sigh of happiness. “How did you know I was here?”

“I called your cell and when it went to voice mail I figured you’d gone for a run. I took a chance that you’d be here instead of outside.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said, taking another drink. “What’s up?”

We headed toward the coat hooks where I’d left my nylon Windbreaker.

“Liz called me last night,” Michelle said. “She told me what she’d learned about Stevie Carleton’s finances.”

I nodded. Liz had told me she would.

“I know there’s no point in me giving you the speech about how they all shouldn’t be involved in this case.”

I held up both hands. “I can’t stop them, not even if I had the Patriots’ entire defensive line behind me.”

“I know,” she said. “But please, do what you can to rein them in. This case is personal and I don’t want Rose or any of them to do something stupid and end up getting hurt.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said.

“Liz also said you found a couple of questionable projects in some old budget projections from the Sunshine Camp.”

I used the edge of my T-shirt to blot the sweat from my neck. “We did, but I’m not sure if it means anything. Liz said that sometimes ideas were floated that didn’t go anywhere, but at least it’s somewhere to start.” Liz was adamant that there was no point in telling Michelle about John’s possible connection to those budget inconsistencies until we’d had a chance to talk to him. I had (very) reluctantly agreed.

Michelle nodded. “Thank you for helping. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

I smiled at her. “You don’t have to tell me and I’m glad you’re willing to let me help. Liz and I are going to start sounding out the people who were involved with the Emmerson Foundation during the time your dad was camp director.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

I set my take-out cup on the bench and pulled on the thin nylon rain jacket. “We aren’t going to tell them what we’re looking for. If someone set your father up it would be bad to tip that person off. So we’re going to say that Liz wants to put together a history of the foundation.” I picked up my cup and we headed for the stairs to the main floor of the building.

“You think people will believe that?”

I noticed that Michelle hadn’t taken a single sip of her own coffee. She was holding on to the cup almost as though she’d forgotten she was supposed to drink what was inside. “Liz can sell anything,” I said. “And I actually think she’s considering the idea for real.”

“And when we find the person who set up my dad that can be part of the story.”

I nodded. I wondered if Liz and Michelle were right. Was Rob Andrews wrongly convicted or did he do what he was accused of? Either way I knew Michelle wouldn’t get what she was really looking for because her dad would still be gone. But I wasn’t going to lose this chance to be a better friend to her.

We walked down to the entrance and as if she could read what I was thinking Michelle bumped me with her hip. “I mean it,” she said. “Thank you for getting involved in this whole thing. Thank you for being there for me. I owe you.”

“Hey, how many times have you been there for me, especially since the Angels began their business?”

A cloud seemed to pass over Michelle’s face. “Nick told me that he admitted to you that he’s the witness that saw Mac with Erin Fellowes.”

“He saw someone with the same build as Mac, wearing a similar sweatshirt, that Erin may, may have called Mac—not exactly a neon arrow with a sign saying ‘killer’ pointed at Mac’s head.”

“I know,” Michelle said.

My surprise had to show on my face. “You do?”

Michelle nodded. “A decent attorney, like Josh, for instance, could get that ID tossed very easily. Nick didn’t see the man’s face and he was far enough away that it would be easy to argue that he didn’t hear what he says he heard.” She held up one hand. “We’re still investigating so it doesn’t mean Mac is in the clear.”

“What about that security camera footage Mr. P. found?”

“There’s still a big enough window, timewise, that Mac could have gotten downtown and killed Erin.”

“He didn’t kill anyone,” I said.

Michelle finally took a sip of her coffee and then made a face. The coffee had to be cold now. “I really want to believe you’re right,” she said.

We said good-bye and I headed home to change and collect Elvis. He refused to move beyond the apartment door and I had to shield him inside my raincoat to get him to the truck.

Rose didn’t come in until late morning. She was dwarfed by the oversize yellow slicker and big green gum rubber boots she was wearing. I took her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the back door where it could drip and not leave a trail of puddles through the building.

“I think even the ducks would find this a little too much,” Rose said, smiling at me.

“You set me up,” I said, skipping all pleasantries.

Rose didn’t even try to play innocent. “Yes, I did. Nicolas, of all people, asked for my help. Nicolas! Do you really think I was going to say no to his request when it’s something I want as well? You know me better than that.”

I folded my arms over my chest. I was angry, I reminded myself. At least I had been. All of a sudden I couldn’t seem to muster up any of the righteous indignation I’d felt before. Rose was smiling at me, and all I could think about was how much they all wanted Nick and me together and yet it never seemed to happen. “What if it’s not what I want?” I said, as much to myself as to her.

Rose picked up her canvas tote, which she’d set inside a clear plastic shopping bag. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said, “but you can’t take forever to decide.” She patted my cheek as she moved past me. “You know what Liz likes to say, sweet girl—‘Pee or get off the pot.’”

Liz called about fifteen minutes later to say she was bringing lunch so we could all talk about our progress such as it was. It was getting to be something we did whenever the Angels had a case.

The rain had let up a little by the time Liz arrived, but she was dry under a gigantic blue-and-white-striped golf umbrella. Her concession to the rain was a pair of bright yellow pumps instead of open-toe sandals. No green gum rubber boots for her.

She handed me a paper shopping bag and I made a mental note to add it to our stash of bags behind the front counter. It was just the right size to hold one of Avery’s teacup planters. I peeked inside the bag although my nose had already told me what was inside—pasta pesto salad from Sam’s and breadsticks.

As usual Avery would watch the shop while the rest of us ate and hashed over the case so far. As she got her food she looked around. “Can I ask a question?” she said.

Liz shot her a look.

Avery rolled her eyes. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course,” Mr. P. said, wisely choosing to ignore the sarcasm that had laced her voice.

She looked at Mac. “That woman who got killed—I heard Sarah say that her message to you was that she believed you, right?”

Avery never missed anything.

“Yes,” Mac said.

I found myself nodding.

“That means she believed you didn’t try to kill your wife anymore, but she did before, because what else could it be?”

Again Mac agreed.

Avery picked up her plate, grabbed a piece of corkscrew pasta and popped it in her mouth. “So what happened so that she changed her mind? Maybe if you could figure that out you could figure out why someone wanted to kill her.”

She headed for the front.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Mr. P. said softly.

“Follow the money,” Liz commented, pouring a cup of tea from the pot Rose had made and brought downstairs. Would anything get done if we ran out of tea? I wondered.

“What money?” Rose asked.

Charlotte had just dished out a plate of pasta. She handed it to me. “You mean the money in the trust.”

Liz nodded. “Yes. It’s too much of a coincidence that Leila’s part of the trust is going to be released soon and Stevie needs money.”

“Stevie wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Leila,” Mac said. He seemed to have that sentence on permanent repeat.

“And I thought she had an alibi,” Charlotte said.

I looked at Mr. P. “She does. The photos she sent me were not doctored in any way I could determine. In one Stephanie is visible and there’s a clock in the background showing the time. She pretty much has an ironclad alibi.”

Liz waved a breadstick at us. “So? What about her partner or husband or whatever he is?”

“Davis Abbott,” Mr. P. said.

“Yes, whatever his name is,” Liz said dismissively. “It seems to me that he would also benefit if Leila were dead and Stevie got all the trust instead of half of it.” She looked at Mr. P. “Alfred, what exactly do we know about this Abbott person?”

A flush of color warmed Mr. P.’s cheeks. “Elizabeth, I am embarrassed to say, very little, but I will rectify that right after we eat.”

Rose beamed at him. Liz reached for her tea, catching my eye with a self-satisfied smile. Charlotte leaned over to ask Mac something.

Both Napoléon and Frederick the Great are credited with saying an army marches on its stomach. I was pretty sure the Angels detected on theirs.

It turned out to be a busy afternoon. Because it was wet, people were happy to be inside browsing around shops like Second Chance. It was still raining when Elvis and I headed home. Since it was cool enough to have the oven on I was going to try to put together a chicken and rice dish Rose had taught me to make a couple of weekends ago. Every time I made something I was amazed that it was even close to edible. Not to mention that no fire extinguishers had been used.

The cheesy chicken and rice was delicious and I ate a huge bowl, sharing a bit of chicken with Elvis. Then he watched Jeopardy! while I ran the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. We had a date with must-see TV—the summer finale of Restless Days.

• • •

I used the remote to turn off the TV and slumped against the back of the sofa. Elvis and I had just spent the last five minutes literally on the edge of our seats. I looked at the cat, sprawled now beside me. “Well, I didn’t see that coming, did you?”

“Merow,” he said. It seemed that Elvis had been blindsided by the two-hour, cliff-hanger summer finale just as much as I had. He had seemed to enjoy watching the dramatic nighttime sudser for the last couple of months, settling himself beside me on the sofa whenever he heard the theme music for the show. It wasn’t that surprising, considering he was a faithful viewer of Jeopardy! every weeknight, missing an episode only for special circumstances like dinner with Rose and Mr. P. at Rose’s apartment.

All at once Elvis sat up, craning his head to look at the front door. I’d given up trying to figure out how he knew when someone was going to knock at the door. Maybe it was the fact that cats have hearing vastly superior to ours. Or maybe he had X-ray vision or cat ESP. He just seemed to know. Of course being a cat, he let me in on it only when it suited him.

I got to my feet just as we heard a knock. “It’s probably Rose,” I said. “She had some kind of meeting about the library book sale. Maybe she’s bringing us the leftover cookies.”

But it wasn’t Rose. It was Michelle. She was dressed in flip-flops, cropped jeans and a green and gold T-shirt with an open Windbreaker, which told me she’d come from home and not from work.

“Hi,” I said.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. C’mon in.”

She glanced over her shoulder and then stepped inside. “I’m sorry to show up like this so late,” she said. “I saw your light and just took a chance you’d be by yourself.” Her expression was serious, her green eyes troubled.

I took her jacket and we both sat down on the sofa. Elvis jumped up between us. “Something’s going on,” I said. “What is it?”

“I’ve been taken off Mac’s case.”

I took a moment before I said anything. Just that morning she’d told me not to worry about Nick seeing Mac with Erin Fellowes and now she wasn’t involved in the case herself. “Do you know why?”

She gave me a grim smile. “Because I’m too close to it—too close to all of you.”

I sighed. “I can see that. I don’t like it but I can’t argue with the reasoning.”

“That’s not all,” she said. She hesitated for a moment. “Tomorrow they’re going to charge Mac with Erin Fellowes’s murder.”

“How . . . how can they do that?” I stammered. “They don’t have any real evidence.”

Elvis put his front paws on Michelle’s leg and she began to absently stroke his fur. “We have a witness who saw Mac and Erin together right before she was killed. Remember?”

“That wasn’t Mac,” I said, biting off the words. I almost added, Even you’re not sure of that, but caught myself.

“It’s not just that,” she said.

“It’s Leila.”

She nodded. “The police in Boston may have decided that what happened to her was an accident but that doesn’t mean it’s been settled in everyone’s mind. There’s been some . . . pressure.”

I felt a sour taste in the back of my throat. The pressure had to be coming from Mac’s in-laws. They had money and influence and they’d put up roadblocks to keep him away from their daughter. It made sense that they would use any connections they had to try to have Mac arrested.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Michelle continued. “Do you know Cal Barnes?”

I got a mental picture of the burly police officer: stocky and solid, built like the hockey goalie he’d been since high school. I nodded.

“He’s taking over the case. Cal’s a straight arrow and he’s fair and he’s honest. He won’t stop looking for more evidence.”

I’d twisted the drawstring of my cutoff sweatpants so tightly around my finger the tip had turned a deep purple-red color. “Mac didn’t do this,” I said. “I swear to you he didn’t.”

“I believe you,” she said. “The ADA owes me a favor so she agreed to let Mac surrender himself at the station tomorrow morning. He’ll be arraigned right after lunch. They’re going to want bail. I’m assuming Liz will take care of that.”

I nodded. Liz had taken care of bail when Maddie Hamilton had been wrongly accused of murder. I didn’t have to ask to know she’d do the same thing for Mac.

“Mac shouldn’t be held for more than a few hours. He won’t have to spend the night in jail or anything like that. I know it sounds intimidating but it’ll be all right. I promise.” She tried to smile but didn’t quite get there.

“Thank you,” I said. The words didn’t seem anywhere near enough.

Michelle picked up Elvis and set him on the sofa. Then she stood up. “I have to go,” she said. “For obvious reasons I won’t be there tomorrow, but I promise Cal won’t be the only one still looking for evidence.”

I’d gotten to my feet as well and now I hugged her, hard. “I mean it,” I said, my voice almost overcome with emotion. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

She pulled back and looked at me. “We’re friends,” she said. “Remember?”

I felt the prickle of tears and had to swallow hard before I could speak. “Yeah, I remember,” I said.

My cell phone was on the counter. It rang then. I glanced over my shoulder.

“That’s probably Josh,” Michelle said. “Go ahead and get it. I’ll talk to you soon.” She actually managed a small smile. “Go. It’ll work out all right.”

She headed for the door and I turned to pick up my phone.

• • •

Michelle was right. Everything went just the way she’d told me it would. Mac—with Josh—turned himself in at the police station first thing in the morning. He was scheduled to go before a judge right after lunch.

I’d shown up at his door with Elvis and a couple breakfast sandwiches at seven a.m. Looking past him I saw two mugs on the table. “You expecting someone?” I asked.

“Just you,” he said with a hint of a smile. “And Josh in a little while. I already made the coffee.”

We settled at the table with our coffee and breakfast. Elvis jumped up onto the wide windowsill and looked down to the parking lot.

Mac seemed so calm, so accepting of what was about to happen. It seemed to me that I was angrier than he was and I said as much.

“I expected this to happen,” he said. “I’m the most likely suspect in Erin’s murder. Hell, I’m probably the only suspect.” He played with his mug. “Erin was Leila’s best friend. That was where her loyalty lay. I never held that against her. I never would have hurt her.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” I said. I put my hand over his. “We are.”

Mac nodded. “I know,” he said.

The moment stretched between us and then Elvis meowed loudly. He looked from the window to us.

“I think Josh might be here,” Mac said.

Reluctantly, I pulled my hand back and he got to his feet. Whatever might have been about to happen had passed.

Right before we opened I gathered everyone in the store and explained what was going on.

“How could Michelle do something like this?” Rose exclaimed.

Mr. P. put a hand on her arm. “Wait a minute, Rosie,” he said. “We may not have the whole story.”

I raked a hand back through my hair. “Michelle had nothing to do with this,” I said. “She’s been taken off the case.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Liz made an offhanded gesture. “Why do you think? She’s too close to everything, to Sarah, to all of us.”

I nodded. “Liz is right.”

“So who will be taking over the case?” Mr. P. asked, giving Rose a reassuring smile as he dropped his hand.

“Cal Barnes,” I said.

“I taught him American history,” Charlotte said. “Bright enough but not very imaginative.”

“Would he remember you?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said. “I did some extra work with him. He was on the hockey team and the coach at that time was a stickler for the boys keeping up their marks.” She frowned at me. “Is that important?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It might be.”

“If this new detective had Charlotte for a teacher does that mean we could get him kicked off Mac’s case?” Avery asked.

I smiled at her. She cared about Mac as much as any of the rest of us. “I’m sorry, no.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Mac isn’t going to have to stay in jail, is he?”

“He most decidedly is not,” Liz said. She put an arm around her granddaughter’s shoulders and Avery leaned against her.

“Can we be there this afternoon?” Rose asked.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I couldn’t seem to keep my hands still. “Yes, we can. I’m leaving at about quarter to one.”

“Rosie and I will ride with you, if that’s all right,” Mr. P. said. I could see the concern in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” I said.

I saw Charlotte glance at Liz, who nodded. “I’ll go with Liz,” Charlotte said.

Avery broke away from her grandmother and came to stand in front of me. “Sarah, I wanna go, too,” she said, her fingers playing with the stack of bracelets on her left arm. “But I’ll stay here and watch the store if you want. You can trust me.”

Avery had a challenging relationship with her father, Liz’s son, so Mac had become very much a father figure to her. “I know I can trust you, but you can come. I’m closing the store for a few hours.”

Mr. P. took a couple of steps toward us. “I could stay here and help Avery, if you’d like me to,” he offered.

I smiled at both of them. “I appreciate both of you making the offer but the only place we need to be this afternoon is in that courtroom for Mac.”

Mr. P. smiled back at me. “Then that’s where we’ll be, my dear.”

At twelve thirty I put a sign on the door that informed customers we were closed for the afternoon. Liz had just shown up, looking the picture of understated wealth in a pale gray suit with darker gray slingbacks and a soft peach shell. Rose and I had gone home just after eleven to change. I was wearing a navy and white sheath with waist-length navy blazer. Rose had put on a yellow, green and blue tunic dress with a three-quarter-sleeve white sweater. We’d dropped off Mr. P. and when we picked him up again he was sporting a brown tweedy sport coat and tan trousers with a crisp white shirt and striped tie. As Rose had explained, it was important the judge know we had respect for the process so we should wear our best things. I wasn’t sure that it really mattered whether I showed up in my old sweatpants or my best dress and heels but there wasn’t anything else I could do at the moment so I was doing this.

Liz came up behind me and put an arm around my shoulders. She smiled at me and then turned to look behind us. “We clean up well,” she said.

I nodded.

Liz held up her gray leather clutch. “Don’t worry, child,” she said. “In a couple of hours Mac will be back here.”

I blew a kiss at her because I didn’t want to disturb her perfectly applied makeup. “What would I do without you?” I said.

She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Lucky for all of us, you’re never going to find out.”

Avery came down the stairs then with Charlotte. Charlotte was wearing a fitted white top with her pearl choker and a slim black skirt. She looked competent, in charge, and slightly intimidating. Avery was dressed in a flowered black and white skirt with a white cotton sweater. Someone—probably Charlotte—had combed her hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ears. She was wearing her black Doc Martens because she was a teenager, after all, but they had been cleaned and shined.

I looked around at all of us and thought that Liz was right: We cleaned up well.