The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

Chapter 2

Close to two hours had passed and it was dark outside and raining before Mac knocked on my door. I was curled up on the sofa with Elvis and a bowl of buttered popcorn, watching a repeat of the last episode of Restless Days before the new episode of the campy nighttime soap aired in another day.

My house was an 1860s, two-story Victorian, divided into three apartments. I lived in the front unit. My grandmother lived in the upstairs apartment, or at least she had until she’d gone off on a very extended honeymoon with her new husband, John. Rose had moved into the third apartment at the back the previous winter, after her lease hadn’t been renewed at Legacy Place, the senior apartment complex where she’d lived for the previous two years. Rose derisively referred to the building as Shady Pines and hadn’t exactly been unhappy about being asked to leave.

I muted the TV and put the popcorn on the counter as I went to answer the door, which really wouldn’t dissuade Elvis if he decided he wanted some. He craned his neck to look at the red glass bowl and then yawned and stretched out across half the sofa, rolling onto his back. Licking butter and salt from the inside of the bowl wasn’t worth the effort of getting up and jumping onto the counter.

“Hi,” Mac said. “I’m sorry it took so long.” He looked tired. There were lines pulling at the corners of his mouth and his eyes.

“C’mon in,” I said.

He followed me inside, pulling off his damp sweatshirt. I took it from him, draping it over one of the stools at the counter. Then I grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. Elvis, who had been watching the screen upside down, rolled over and turned his attention to Mac. I sat down next to the cat, curling one leg underneath me.

Mac took the nearby chair. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Sarah, did Erin say anything about why she wanted to talk to me? Or how she even knew I was here in North Harbor?”

I shook my head. “The only thing she said was that it was important that she talk to you and that she believed you.” I paused. “And that she was a friend of your wife.”

His gaze flicked away from mine for a moment.

“You didn’t find her, did you?” I said.

He shook his head. “I went to the inn but Erin wasn’t there. I checked all the nearby restaurants. I left two more messages on her phone. I drove around downtown but I couldn’t find her. I even went back to the shop in case she’d decided to go back and wait for me there.” He smoothed a hand back over his damp hair and turned all his attention to me. “I don’t want to talk about Erin right now, Sarah.” His mouth moved as though he needed to try out what he wanted to say before he actually said the words. “You know now that I was—and still am—married.”

I nodded.

He took out his wallet, pulled out a photo and handed it to me. Most people carried their photos on their phone but Mac wasn’t most people.

The photograph was of a woman, in her early thirties I was guessing. It looked to have been taken on the deck of a sailboat. She had a thick mass of dark curly hair, worn loose to her shoulders, dark eyes and dark skin. But it was her smile that was so striking. Even in the small photo it lit up her face. I wondered what it was like to have that smile turned on you in person.

“This is Leila,” I said, handing the picture back to him.

He nodded.

“You’re still married. Where is she?”

He swallowed, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s in a long-term care facility in Providence. She’s been in a coma ever since a carbon monoxide leak in our house two years ago.

It was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “I don’t understand. Why . . . why aren’t you there?”

It was impossible to miss the pain etched into every line on his face. “At first the police believed the leak was an accident,” he said. “There were renovations going on in the house and we’d been having problems with the gas water heater, but then there were some things that made them suspect that what happened to Leila was deliberate. I was their main suspect.”

I folded my arms over my chest, hugging myself against the unbelievability of what Mac was telling me. “I don’t understand. What things?”

“First of all, there was nothing to suggest anyone had broken into the house. And no one had been working on the water heater that day.” He cleared his throat. “The police thought it was . . . suspicious that there were no fingerprints on one section of vent pipe, but we’d had the water heater looked at twice that month. A repairman could have wiped it with a rag.”

“Were you charged with anything?” I asked.

“I was never arrested, and the police finally concluded what happened was just a horrible accident, but Leila’s parents filed a civil suit and went to court to get temporary guardianship of her. Eventually, I agreed to let them have control of her care.” He sat stiff and unmoving on the edge of the chair, the only movement the clenching and flexing of his left hand.

“The doctors said she would never wake up. Her brain had been without oxygen for too long. It was . . . it was very hard for everyone to accept.” He cleared his throat. “The only reason I agreed to let her parents have guardianship of Leila was because I knew if I didn’t they would bankrupt me and there wouldn’t be enough money for top-quality care for her. They kept putting up roadblocks to me seeing her. I’d put everything we had into a trust for her care and finally I left.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t . . . I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.” I couldn’t. The thought of my brother, Liam, or my grandmother, or anyone else I loved being in a coma and not being able to see them was somewhere my mind wouldn’t go.

Mac looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I should have told you.”

I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. You don’t owe anyone—not me, not anyone—an explanation.”

His dark eyes met mine again. “At first I just didn’t want to talk about it and I was still fighting with Leila’s parents to at least be kept updated on how she was. And then the more time that went by, the harder it was to talk about everything.”

Elvis nudged my hand with his head and I began to stroke his fur. “You think Erin being here has something to do with Leila?”

Mac nodded. “She sided with Leila’s parents. I haven’t spoken to her in close to two years. Why else would she be here?”

“Why now?” I asked. Elvis stretched his two front paws across my lap.

“I don’t know. Something must have happened. You said she told you to tell me she believed me.”

“She did,” I said. “She seemed—I’m not sure—sad, sorry maybe.”

“I don’t know what else it could be.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to try the hospital and see if maybe I can at least make sure Leila is all right. I get updates according to a schedule the lawyers set up so I don’t know if they’ll tell me anything, but it’s worth a try.”

There was a knock then at the door.

“I’ll get that,” I said. I moved the cat off my lap and got to my feet. Elvis stretched and moved into my place.

Michelle Andrews was at the door. “Hi,” I said.

I was surprised to see her standing there. Michelle had been my summertime best friend when we were kids. Every year we’d just picked up where we’d left off the summer before. But we’d had a falling-out as teenagers and had just reconnected a year ago. We were slowly rebuilding our friendship and I was happy to have her back in my life. Things were complicated a little—sometimes a lot—by the fact that Michelle was a detective on the North Harbor police force, and the Angels had gotten involved in more than one of her cases, which meant I’d ended up involved, too.

Michelle rarely just stopped by. Even as I was wondering what she was doing at my door, the fact that she was dressed in her work clothes—gray trousers, a fitted, pale blue shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves and a police-issue navy blue rain jacket—was also registering.

“I’m sorry to bother you this late, Sarah,” she said. “But I’m looking for Mac. Do you have any idea where he is?” Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore her father’s heavy gold watch on her left arm.

The popcorn I’d eaten suddenly felt like a lump of lead in my stomach. “Why are you looking for him?” I didn’t mean to sound suspicious but I could hear it in my voice.

“I’m right here,” Mac said behind me.

“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” Michelle said. “Could we step outside?”

“No,” I said, putting my hand on the doorframe. “What do you want to talk to Mac about?”

“I just have some questions.” She made an offhand gesture with one hand as though this was no big deal. Some sort of internal radar told me it was.

Mac put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Sarah.”

I glanced back at him.

“It’s fine,” he said softly.

I knew it wasn’t fine.

Two weekends ago it had rained all day Sunday and Elvis and I had indulged in a marathon session of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Whenever something went wrong on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise Commander William T. Riker, played by the yummy Jonathan Frakes, would call out, “Red alert!” Right now my internal warning system was doing the same thing.

“Questions about what?” I asked. I kept my hand on the doorframe. I didn’t have any illusions that I could actually keep Michelle out or Mac in but the symbolism felt important.

Michelle looked at Mac. “Do you know a woman named Erin Fellowes?”

Mac’s dark eyes narrowed. “Has something happened? Is Erin all right?”

“Why don’t we go over to the station and get out of Sarah’s way?” Michelle said. She hadn’t answered Mac’s questions.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “Where’s Erin? Has she been hurt?”

“Mac, you should call a lawyer,” I said, feeling tension coil in my shoulders.

Michelle turned her attention to me. “Why does Mac need a lawyer?” she asked, once more not answering Mac’s question.

“I don’t need one,” he said, an edge of aggravation in his voice.

“Because you’re here asking questions,” I told Michelle, ignoring what Mac had just said. “It’s late. You’re not checking out a reference or playing matchmaker. This has to do with a case.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket with my free hand and brought up Josh Evans’s number. It said something that I had the lawyer’s office and cell number on speed dial. Luckily he answered on the third ring. I explained that Michelle was at the door with questions for Mac and unlike the two of them I thought it was a bad idea for Mac to talk to her without Josh here.

“Let me talk to him,” Josh said without preamble.

Wordlessly I handed the phone to Mac. He turned away and lowered his voice.

“This isn’t personal,” I said to Michelle. “And it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you.”

Her expression was somber. “You’re putting yourself in the middle of something you’d be better staying out of, Sarah.”

“It’s not the first time,” I said, giving her a small smile, which I hoped could somehow lighten the mood.

I got a hint of a smile in return. “No, it’s not,” she agreed.

Mac touched my arm and handed the phone back. “Josh will be here in a few minutes,” he said to Michelle, with what seemed to me to be a note of apology in his voice. “I told him I’d wait to talk to you until he arrived. Could you just tell me whether Erin’s all right?”

Josh had obviously been more persuasive than I’d been.

Michelle’s expression tightened. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t known her so well. She gestured toward the driveway. “I think it would be best if I waited outside.”

I nodded. She turned away and I closed the door and made my way into the kitchen, where I started the coffeemaker. I had a feeling I was going to need a cup. Probably more than one.

“How did Josh convince you to wait for him?” I said over my shoulder to Mac.

“He said—and this is a direct quote—‘Don’t be such a guy. Listen to Sarah.’”

I swung all the way around to look at him. “You’re making that up.”

He held up both hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “I’m not. I swear.”

I shrugged. “It does sound like Josh.”

Mac glanced at the front door then his eyes came back to me, and the start of a smile I’d seen on his face had disappeared. “You think something happened to Erin. You think she was mugged or roughed up in some way. That’s why you didn’t want me to talk to Michelle without Josh.”

“I think it’s possible. Why else would Michelle be looking for you?” I got three mugs down from the cupboard.

His eyes darted to the door again.

I knew what he was thinking. “Don’t,” I said softly. “Josh will be here in five minutes, tops. He drives faster than I do. If Erin was seriously hurt or in the hospital I think Michelle would have said so.”

When the coffee was ready I poured a cup for Mac and handed it to him. “There are no cookies,” I said. “But I do have soda crackers and”—I did a quick mental inventory of the cupboards and the fridge—“and that’s it.”

Elvis had made his way to the top of his cat tower. He lifted his head and meowed. “And Elvis seems to be willing to share his fish crackers with you.”

I poured another cup and added cream and two generous spoons of sugar. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Mac.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“I’m taking Michelle a cup of coffee.”

He reached out and caught my arm. “She’s right, Sarah,” he said. “You shouldn’t be mixed up in this whatever this is.”

“Question,” I said. “What would Rose do?”

Mac rolled his eyes, letting go of my arm. “Exactly what you’re about to do. Although she’d have cookies.”

“You can call her a bad influence, then, because I’m taking Michelle a cup of coffee. I’ll be right back.”

Michelle’s car was parked in front of the house. The rain had let up and she was leaning against the front passenger door, arms folded across her midsection, an expression I couldn’t read on her face.

I handed her the mug without comment.

“Thank you,” she said. She took a drink. “Umm, that’s good.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “So far, when it comes to cooking, coffee and gravy are my specialties.”

“You can go a long way in life with coffee and gravy,” she said. I was pretty sure I saw the corners of her mouth curve up. “Did you come out to try to wheedle some information from me?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I would have gone into Rose’s apartment and gotten a couple of cookies if I wanted to do that. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I meant what I said—calling Josh had nothing to do with me not trusting you.”

For a moment she didn’t say anything. She took another sip of her coffee. “I know,” she finally said. Her eyes met mine and I knew she was telling the truth.

“We’re good, then?” Our past estrangement had happened because I’d said something cruel in anger about Michelle’s father after he’d been convicted of embezzlement, something I hadn’t meant for her to hear and for a long time didn’t know that she had. My words had cut her deeply and I didn’t want to do that to her ever again.

“We’re good.” She did smile then. Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared again. “Sarah, how well do you know Mac?” she asked. She watched me over the top of her mug.

My heart started to thump in my chest and my stomach took a nervous dip. “I probably know him as well as anyone does here in town,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “And I trust him as much as I trust anyone—Jess or Rose. Or you.”

She nodded but she didn’t say anything else and neither did I.

Josh arrived a few minutes later. I’d known him most of my life and in a lot of ways the adult Josh wasn’t that different from the kid. He wore his sandy hair in the same short, spiky style he’d sported when he was twelve, except now I was fairly certain he wasn’t getting it styled at Supercuts. Thanks to a late growth spurt he was almost six feet tall and time had smoothed away a lot, but thankfully not all, of his endearing geekiness. He was wearing khaki shorts, a blue plaid shirt and deck shoes. He looked more like the kid who had gotten five of us free chocolate-dip cones at Hawthorne’s ice cream stand, arguing that their sign was deceptive, than the busy lawyer he was today.

Josh and Michelle followed me back inside, exchanging pleasantries about the weather. I knew Josh would say no to coffee, but I had two bottles of root beer in the refrigerator. I opened one, poured it over a glass of ice and handed it to him.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he said. He took a long drink and then looked at Michelle. “I need a minute to talk to my client.”

She nodded. “I’ll wait in the hallway.”

“So will I,” I said.

Mac frowned. “Sarah, you don’t have to go.”

“Yes, she does,” Josh said. He looked at me. “Thanks.”

Out in the hallway I slouched against the doorframe while Michelle leaned on the wall opposite the apartment door. She checked her phone; I studied the baseboard wondering if it needed a coat of paint.

Finally I gave her a sheepish smile. “Do you want to make awkward chitchat or just go for uncomfortable silence?”

“Let’s try awkward chitchat.”

My mind went blank. “Uh, nice weather we’ve been having lately,” I finally said.

Michelle laughed. “Uncomfortable silence is good, too,” she said.

Luckily Josh called us back in then. “You have some questions for Mac,” he said to Michelle, getting right to the point.

Her body language was all business—shoulders squared, feet planted slightly apart, face unreadable. “Do you know a woman named Erin Fellowes?” she asked Mac again.

Mac glanced at Josh, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes. Erin is—was—friends with my wife.”

Michelle knew Mac had a wife, I realized immediately. She had an excellent poker face but she wasn’t so good that there wouldn’t have been at least a small change of expression, a flash in her eyes, a tightening of the muscles in her jaw, if she hadn’t been aware of the information.

How long had she known? I couldn’t help wondering.

“Why are the police interested in Ms. Fellowes?” Josh asked. “Is she in some kind of trouble? Have you arrested her?” He adjusted the corner of his glasses with one finger. He still wore the same style of black-framed eyewear he’d worn as a kid, except now the frames were a designer brand and I doubted he’d repair them with duct tape or a length of picture frame wire if they broke.

Michelle’s sharp gaze went from Josh to Mac and back to the lawyer. This time I did see the muscles in her jaw clench, and all at once I knew what she was going to say. I knew why she was here to talk to Mac. Still, I waited to hear the words, hoping I would somehow be wrong.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Erin Fellowes is dead.”