The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

Chapter 13

I stared at Mr. P., eyes wide with shock. I hadn’t seen this coming.

“Interesting turn, don’t you think?” he said.

Rose came in then. “What’s going on?” she asked.

I handed her the photo without comment. She studied it for a moment and then looked at me, a frown creasing her forehead. “What are you doing with a photo of that young man with the deplorable manners?” she asked.

“That young man is Davis Abbott,” Mr. P. said.

“Stevie’s partner,” Rose said.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s involved.” She handed the picture back to Mr. P. “I found him crude and rude. He definitely isn’t a person of good character.” Manners were very important to Rose.

“Exactly what did Davis say to you that morning?” I asked.

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say he made a suggestion that is anatomically impossible.”

“The miscreant!” Mr. P. exclaimed, getting to his feet. For a moment I thought he was going to head out to look for Davis Abbott to defend Rose’s honor. Not that she needed anyone to defend it.

She caught his arm. “Don’t worry, Alf. I heard a lot worse when I was teaching. And I put that young man in his place.” She turned her attention to me. “Did you notice that Davis’s truck had one taillight not working and his rearview mirror appeared to have fallen off? Just think how dangerous those things could be.”

I’d seen that guileless look in her gray eyes before. I couldn’t hold back a smile. I knew where the conversation was going. “Did you call the police on Davis Abbott?” I asked.

“Heavens, no,” Rose said, and her surprise at my question seemed genuine. So maybe I didn’t know where the conversation was going. “That would have been petty.” She fluffed her soft, white hair. “However in an interesting coincidence I did happen to see that nice Charles Sullivan later that morning at McNamara’s and when he asked how we were making out with filming on our street I did mention how you and I had arrived to find this very rude driver blocking the lot.”

“That nice Charles Sullivan” was Officer Charles Sullivan from the North Harbor Police Department and one of Rose’s former students.

She glanced at Mr. P. “He was appalled when I confided how Mr. Abbott spoke to me. So when he asked if I could describe the truck I told him about the broken taillight and the missing mirror and the license plate number, which coincidentally I’d happened to write down, because it would be wrong to keep things from an officer of the law.”

I leaned over and kissed Rose on the cheek. “I love the way your mind works,” I said.

“What a lovely thing to say,” she said. She brushed a bit of dust from the front of her apron. “What we need to do now is concentrate on what Stevie’s partner was doing in North Harbor the very day Erin Fellowes was killed.”

“As I recall, Stephanie told us that Davis had been in Nova Scotia for some sort of workshop on organic farming techniques. Did she lie to us or did he lie to her?” Mr. P. asked.

“I know you’ll figure it out,” I said.

He smiled, his previous outrage gone. “I’ll see what I can find out about that workshop.”

“Keep me in the loop,” I said. Rose and I walked through the workroom toward the shop.

“Stevie and her partner are tied up in this somehow, aren’t they?” I said.

“I’d like to say I think you’re wrong but at this point I’m just not sure.” Rose gave her head a little shake. “Both of them certainly seem to be lacking as far as good judgment is concerned.”

I nudged her with my hip. “I have faith that you and Mr. P. will figure out what’s going on.”

“That reminds me,” she said, raising one finger in the air, “Liz and I are going to the salt works in Marshfield tomorrow. I switched shifts with Charlotte.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. It was the most diplomatic way I could think of suggesting I should go with them. Rose and Liz together on a road trip could get very . . . interesting.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Rose said with a smile. “Liz and I can handle this. Clayton explained the process and he told me what questions to ask.”

I frowned at her. “I remember when Charlotte and I talked to Clayton about harvesting seaweed but I don’t remember any conversations at all about sea salt, with or without you.”

Rose was patting her pockets, looking for something, her phone or her keys probably. She looked up at me. “Oh, I called Clayton. I had some questions.”

“What are you trying to find out?”

She seemed to find whatever she’d been looking for in the right-hand pocket of her skirt and gave a small nod of satisfaction. “It occurred to me that if du Mer was being investigated for fraud it might have to do with ingredients. The sea salt seemed the logical place to start.”

“That’s a good idea.” I held the door so Rose could move into the store ahead of me. “You think Erin Fellowes’s murder is somehow connected to Mac’s wife’s accident, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Both Alfred and I do.”

“Because?” I nudged.

She reached over and brushed a bit of lint off my shoulder. “Well, dear, it’s really the only logical conclusion.” She held up one finger. “First of all, we know she wasn’t mugged because she had her money, her credit cards and her cell phone.”

I nodded. “True.”

Rose held up a second finger. “And secondly, there hasn’t been an assault on the harbor front in two years and that was just a couple of young men who’d indulged way too much.”

“Also true,” I said. “Is there a number three?”

Rose smiled and patted her hair. “Of course there is. Alfred and I never rush to judgment.”

I decided to just let that go unchallenged.

“The only person Erin Fellowes knew in North Harbor was Mac,” she continued.

“As far as we know, yes.”

“Their connection was Mac’s wife, who’s now in a coma, which Erin blamed on Mac.”

I wasn’t having any trouble following her logic. Everything she said made sense.

Rose cocked her head to one side, looking like a tiny, white-tufted bird. “Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence that just a few hours after she got here—after she told you to tell him she believed him—that she ended up dead?”

“I do,” I said, because I did. “There’s no faulting your logic.”

She smiled again. “I’m not just another pretty face, you know,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

I grinned and gave her a hug. “You absolutely aren’t,” I said.

• • •

Rose and Liz left just before eight the next morning. Liz dropped off Avery when she came to pick up Rose. Once Avery was out of earshot, on my sofa talking to Elvis, I propped my chin on Liz’s shoulder. “Don’t stop for strangers, don’t speed and remember to wear your seat belt,” I said with a teasing smile.

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, missy,” she said, reaching up with one hand to give me a light smack on the forehead.

“Did you have one of Avery’s green smoothies for breakfast?” I asked, lifting my head.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Luckily the child adores Mac, so no, I did not have a glass of green sludge for breakfast. I had a scrambled egg, English muffin and a bowl of berries.” She gave me a warning look. “And before you ask, no I don’t need to visit the washroom.”

“You know what Gram would say,” I teased. “Never turn down a chocolate chip cookie or a chance to pee.”

Liz made a face at me. “It think that was more likely Rose and not Isabel,” she said.

“And do you know the way to where you’re going in Marshfield?” I asked sweetly, reaching over to straighten her collar. She had to know what I was up to. When I’d driven up to Carrabassett Valley to see Stevie Carleton Liz had reminded me to check my tire pressure, carry a bottle of water and wear my seat belt.

Liz batted my hand away. “I’d be happy to tell you where to go.”

I laughed.

“I heard all about your lead foot from Rose and Alfred,” she continued. “So don’t get the idea you have some kind of superior driving skills. I’ve driven on the autobahn. I think I can find Marshfield just fine.”

I’d driven with Liz and I knew compared to her I was the proverbial, poky little old lady behind the wheel. I wrinkled my nose at her. “People who live in glass houses,” I said.

“Shouldn’t walk around the house naked,” she finished.

Rose came out of her apartment then, which effectively ended the conversation—not that I was going to win against Liz, anyway.

“I just have to grab my bag and my keys and I’m ready,” I told Avery after Liz had pulled away from the curb. “Do you want to stop at McNamara’s for a muffin and lemonade?” I asked.

She was holding Elvis and he immediately murped his agreement. “Please,” she said. “Only, could I have hot chocolate instead?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said.

“I have money,” Avery said. “Nonna told me not to be a freeloader.”

“I appreciate that,” I said as I locked the apartment door. “But this is my treat.”

We stopped at Glenn’s and chose the blueberry muffins that were still a little warm. I got a cinnamon raisin muffin for Charlotte and orange spice for Mac. Glenn made Avery’s hot chocolate and it smelled so good I decided to have the same thing, telling myself the day wasn’t that warm yet.

“I should have the proposal for Clayton’s house soon,” I told Glenn as he dropped three marshmallows on the top of my drink.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling as he handed me the cup. “Clayton seems to be getting enthusiastic about the idea. He’s even talking about moving in to town.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that one,” I said. “I think he talked to Rose about Legacy Place.”

“Oh, he did,” Glenn said. “Pretty much the only thing he cared about were how many good cooks there were in the building.” He laughed. “You can probably tell from looking at him that Clayton likes to eat. He’s the personification of ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

It was another gorgeous day and the shop was quiet. I sent Avery back to the workroom to cover more lampshades with the stash of old maps I’d bought at a yard sale. The shades had turned out to be popular. Charlotte and I started dusting and making small changes in the front window display. Avery was still working on a couple of ideas for changing the display entirely.

While we worked we talked about my idea for offering classes similar to the one I’d taught at Legacy Place, the one where I’d met Mr. P.—as Charlotte put it—“just the way the good Lord had made him” for the first time.

“My plan was to teach in the old garage space but now that it’s been finished I realize I don’t have enough space out there now that the area has been turned into work space,” I said.

“Have you thought about contacting Legacy Place to see about renting space from them?” Charlotte asked. “They have classes there for more than just seniors.”

Elvis, who was sitting up on the cash desk, meowed his agreement.

“See?” Charlotte said. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Well, then, how can I disagree?” I said.

We worked in silence for a few minutes. Charlotte’s mind seemed to be somewhere else. I had to ask her twice to pass me a cloth. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and handing me the duster.

“Where were you?” I asked, lifting down a lamp that I had decided I was going to move to a small bookcase on the end wall.

Charlotte brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Thinking about this case, about Mac. I keep wondering why Erin Fellowes came all the way from Boston to North Harbor. If what she wanted to talk to Mac about was so important, why didn’t she call?”

I shrugged and set the lamp on the floor by my feet. “I just assumed Mac had changed his cell number and Erin didn’t have it.”

Charlotte frowned at a teapot and moved it about an inch, nodding with satisfaction. Then she looked at me again. “But she showed up here, she knew he worked here. Why didn’t she just call him here?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea.” We hadn’t figured out how Erin had learned where Mac was.

“You know, we’re all assuming Erin found out something that made her change her mind about Mac’s guilt. She told you to tell him that she believed him.”

I nodded, remembering the intensity in Erin’s face.

“And we’re assuming the person who tried to kill Leila followed Erin and killed her as well.”

I nodded again. “It’s the best theory we have right now.”

“Maybe Erin didn’t find out something that cleared Mac,” Charlotte said. She picked up a small china cream pitcher and turned it over in her hands. “Maybe she found something else.”

I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Maybe Erin found something.” Charlotte gestured with the pitcher. “Something, that somehow implicated the real would-be murderer. Something she brought here to show to Mac. Maybe because she hoped he would recognize it.”

Her reasoning made sense. “So what was the thing?”

“I think it had to be something small. Something she could have picked up and carried around without drawing attention to herself. Did she have a purse or a bag with her?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and pictured Erin Fellowes getting out of her small sports car and walking over to me. “Yes,” I said. I opened my eyes again and looked at Charlotte. “A small multicolored cross-body bag. And her dress had a full skirt with pockets.”

Charlotte was nodding.

“You think she had whatever this evidence was in her bag or in her pocket.”

“Yes.”

“We need to find it, whatever it is.”

“We do,” she said.

I just had no idea how to do that.