The Whole Cat and Caboodle: Second Chance Cat Mystery

Chapter 12

Both of my hands landed on Nick’s broad chest. “Are you okay?” he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I realized I still had my hands on his chest. I dropped them and took a step backward, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. I reached out, just out of reflex, grabbing his arm.

“I’ve got you,” Nick said, tightening his grip on my shoulder.

I caught my balance, giving him a sheepish smile. I let go of his arm, but I couldn’t help noticing the bulge of muscle under the sleeve of his jacket.

“Thinking deep thoughts?” Nick asked, dropping his hand from my shoulder.

“Only if you consider daydreaming about a bowl of Sam’s chili to be thinking deep thoughts,” I said, brushing a stray strand of hair off my cheek.

He frowned. “So, you haven’t had supper yet?”

I shook my head. “I went for a run. You know, something that you couldn’t do because you were so busy.”

“Oh yes, I was busy,” he said solemnly. “Very, very busy.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He reminded me of a teenage Nick.

“I haven’t eaten, either,” he said with an easy smile. “Have supper with me. We said we were going to have dinner and catch up. I’m assuming you weren’t going to just eat and run.” He waggled his eyebrows at me when he said run.

“You are so, so not funny,” I said shaking my head. “So, I’m going to take pity on you and have supper with you.”

We fell into step and walked maybe ten feet before I stopped. Nick got a couple of steps ahead of me before he noticed I wasn’t beside him.

He turned to look at me. “Sarah, is something wrong?”

“I couldn’t talk them out of it.”

It took a second for what I meant to register. He looked skyward for a second, shaking his head. Then he looked at me. “What happened to your powers of persuasion?”

“Rose’s logic,” I said.

“Which is?”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shifted from one foot to the other. “That their combined life experience makes them better at investigating Arthur Fenety’s murder than anyone else.”

Nick put both hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “They’ve lost their minds,” he said. “All three of them—my mother, Rose and even Liz. They have some kind of age-related cognitive impairment.”

“No, they don’t,” I said. “They’re trying to help a friend. They haven’t gone senile.”

“My mother and her friends seem to think they’re some kind of geriatric version of Nancy Drew.” He exhaled loudly. “How exactly is their life experience going to help them investigate a murder? That’s a job for the police.”

I didn’t like the way he was selling his mother and Rose and Liz short. “Of course,” I said. “Because the police have done such a good job so far.” I tried to keep my voice even and nonjudgmental, but a little snark still snuck in.

His mouth moved as though he were trying out the feel of what he wanted to say before he said it. “They’ve somehow convinced you that this is a good idea,” he finally said. “Are you out . . . ?” He had the good sense not to finish the sentence.

I waited, arms folded, to see what he’d say next.

He let out a breath and studied the stars overhead for a moment. “I should just stop talking, shouldn’t I?” he said, when his gaze finally dropped to my face.

“I’m thinking it would probably be a good idea,” I said. My momentary anger was gone, like a match that had been struck and immediately blown out. I didn’t want Charlotte and the others investigating Arthur Fenety’s murder any more than Nick did.

“Still want to have supper with me?” he asked.

“As long as we talk about anything except Maddie’s case.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

We fell back in step again.

“Nice weather we’ve been having lately,” Nick said after a too-long awkward silence.

I stopped walking again. Nick stopped as well. “Sarah, at the rate you’re walking we’re going to be having breakfast instead of dinner.”

“Do you really want to spend the next hour talking about the weather?” I asked.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t want to argue with you.”

“So what do you suggest?” I said, smiling so he’d know I didn’t want to argue with him, either.

He laughed, pulling a hand down over his chin. “I don’t know.”

I laughed, too, because the whole situation was kind of funny when you thought about it. Or maybe I was just tired and hungry. “Look, Nick,” I said, “There isn’t anything either one of us can do about your mom and Rose and Liz. They’ve decided they’re going to investigate and it doesn’t matter what either one of us says. I’ll do what I can to keep them out of trouble. And you try not to huff and puff when you talk to your mother.”

“I don’t huff and puff,” he said, a little indignantly, it seemed to me, until I saw a glint of humor in his eyes. “Maybe I growl a little.”

I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “So, do we have a deal?” I asked.

He nodded. “We have a deal.”

We started walking again. “What exactly are they planning to do?” Nick asked after a moment.

“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Not for sure. They think Fenety’s death has to be connected to all those women he scammed. Which makes sense to me.”

Nick turned to look at me, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Arthur Fenety was poisoned. That takes planning. It’s personal. It’s hard to poison someone without thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” he said, stepping behind me for a moment to let some people pass us. “A death like Fenety’s—just one person being poisoned—he was targeted. It was very personal. But Fenety’s victims are spread all over New England.”

“Nick, you don’t think Maddie killed him, do you?”

This time it was Nick who stopped walking. “Good Lord, no,” he said. “I’ve known Maddie my whole life. She couldn’t hurt anyone or anything.” He raked a hand through his hair. “When I was five she paid me a nickel a bug to pick aphids off of her rosebushes. I don’t see her poisoning a person when she wouldn’t poison a bug.”

We were in front of The Black Bear and Nick held the door open for me. “What I meant was that a lot of Fenety’s victims that we know about are in other states. Maybe there’s at least one we don’t know about who’s a lot closer.”

“Maybe,” I agreed as we stepped inside. I was remembering being at the pub with Jess and seeing one of the women who had been married to Arthur Fenety. Maybe his other victims weren’t so far away after all.

Sam was standing by the bar when Nick and I walked in. He turned around as if somehow he’d known we were there and smiled as he walked across the room to us.

“Nick Elliot! How the heck are you?” Sam said. They shook hands and grinned at each other.

Nick exhaled loudly and looked around. “I haven’t been here in years,” he exclaimed.

“I’m glad you decided to change that,” Sam said.

“Please tell me you still have live music,” Nick said.

Sam gestured at the corner stage.

“The good stuff?” Nick asked raising an eyebrow.

Sam held out his hands. “I like that old-time rock and roll.”

Nick laughed. “You know,” he said. “It’s good to be home.”

“Did you bring a guitar home with you?” Sam asked. “Tomorrow’s Thursday.”

“You still have Thursday-night jam?” Nick glanced over at the stage again. I wondered if he was remembering the first time he took his guitar up on the stage in here and sat in with the band. “I haven’t played much lately.”

“It’ll come back,” Sam said. “Or you can do what the rest of us do: make it up as you go along.”

Nick laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.”

Sam showed us to a table near the front window, grabbing a couple of menus as we passed the bar. “I’ll send Adam over.”

I slipped off my jacket and hung it on the back of my chair.

“I’ll be up in the morning to pick up the Rickenbacker,” Sam said.

“Okay,” I said. “I put it in my office. Mac knows, in case I happen to be out.”

Nick looked at me. “Sam bought the Rickenbacker? The one I played?”

I nodded.

“Nice,” he said, nodding, and I wondered if Nick was sorry he hadn’t bought the guitar.

“Think about tomorrow night,” Sam said. “Sarah and Jess are coming, and I’ll probably have the Rickenbacker.” He laid a hand on my shoulder for a moment and headed for the kitchen.

Nick pulled out his chair and sat down. “You and Jess are still friends.”

I smiled. “I think we’re like Gram, your mom, Rose and Liz. I think we’re friends forever.” I traced the edge of my menu with a finger. “She makes me laugh. She nags me about working too much, and I still can’t get her to come running with me.”

“She’s probably busy,” he said, completely deadpan.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Uh-huh. There’s a lot of that going around.”

“You and Michelle didn’t reconnect?” he said, opening the menu.

I shook my head. All these years later I still didn’t know why Michelle had stopped being my friend, all but stopped talking to me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw our waiter on the way over. “What about you?” I said. “Did you keep in touch with anyone?”

He closed the menu and pushed it aside. “No,” he said, picking up his knife and setting it back down again. “I kept saying I’d get back for a visit but it didn’t happen that often.” He shrugged. “Time would just get away from me. You know how it is.’

I nodded.

“Mom kept me more or less up-to-date, though.”

“Yeah, so did Gram when I was away.” I didn’t say that listening to my grandmother talk about what people were doing in town—and sometimes who they were doing—after I’d lost my job kept me from falling down a rabbit hole of depression.

Nick ordered a Bear Burger, Sam’s take on a cheeseburger made with fresh mozzarella cheese, a tangle of sweet fried onions and a spicy mayo-mustard blend that was Sam’s own creation. I ordered what I’d been craving: chili over rice.

We talked about the town while we waited for our food, and then as we ate.

Neither one of us felt like dessert. Nick picked up both checks when Adam brought them to the table.

He smiled at me. “Don’t waste your breath, Sarah,” he said. “I asked you to join me and I’m my mother’s son. That means I’m paying.”

“Which way are you headed?” I asked when we were outside on the sidewalk again.

“I’m walking you home,” he said, zipping his jacket. It had gotten a little cooler and there was a breeze coming in off the water.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He smiled down at me. “I know, but, like I told you, I am my mother’s son.”

I tipped my head to one side and studied him for a moment. “You are, you know,” I said. “You both get that same look when you’ve made up your mind about something.”

He winced. “Is that good or bad?

I bumped him gently with my hip. “From my experience it depends on whether someone’s on the same side or the opposite one.”

We walked along, talking about some of the differences of opinion Nick and his mother had had over the years.

“You know, the most humbling thing is when I look back I see that most of the time she was right.” He shook his head ruefully.

“Keep that in mind,” I said.

We were in front of my house. “This is home,” I said.

“Oh, you’re living in Isabel’s place while she’s on her honeymoon.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not in Gram’s place. The main-floor apartment is mine. Actually the whole house is mine. Gram was living here to keep an eye on things for me when I was away.”

Nick took a step backward and looked up at the house. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “How did you end up owning a house here?”

I brushed my hair back off my face. “It’s a long story, but basically I cleaned out a barn.”

His eyes darted uncertainly from side to side. “And what?” He gestured with his hands. “You found this in an old cardboard box?”

I shook my head. “No, I found a Volkswagen bug that hadn’t been driven in twenty-five years—maybe longer. The woman who owned the barn said if I could get it out of the building I could have it. So I did.”

Nick glanced at the house once more and then his gaze came back to me. “And then the car magically turned into this house? What? Were there magic beans in the glove compartment or something?”

“You’re not that far off,” I said with a smile. “I did a little work on the car—well, I bribed Liam to do a little work on the car. Then I traded it for an old MG.” I ticked off the trades on my fingers. “I traded the MG for a camper van, which I lived in for six months. I traded the camper for a one-room cabin”—I shook my head—“and when I say cabin, I mean ‘shack’—that Jess and I lived in for our last year of college. I used the cabin as a down payment on this house.” I held out my hands. “Ta-da!”

“Wow,” Nick said, shaking his head in amazement. “Why didn’t I know any of this?”

I shrugged. “Well it didn’t happen overnight.”

“I guess I should have come home more often.”

I smiled up at him. “You’re here now. You can catch up.” I looked at the stars overhead. It was a clear night, and away from the water there wasn’t any breeze. “Thank you for walking me home,” I said.

Nick smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m not on call tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll see you at Sam’s.”

I nodded. “Maybe you will.”

He took a step toward me and I thought he was going to kiss me, but all he did was lay a hand on my shoulder for a moment.

“Good night, Sarah,” he said, and then he headed down the sidewalk. I stood there for a moment, feeling oddly disappointed that he hadn’t at least tried to kiss me. Not that I wanted him to. At least that was what I told myself.

I opened the store in the morning, and once Rose arrived I printed out a copy of the offer for the pieces I wanted to buy from the Harrington property and got Mac to take a look at it. He leaned against the counter by the cash register, rapidly scanning everything I’d printed, Elvis at his elbow. The cat’s furry black head was bent over the pages like he was reading, too.

“It’s fine,” Mac said, after a few minutes.

Elvis put one paw on the pages and meowed his approval, as well.

“Thanks,” I said. I reached over and scratched the top of Elvis’s head. “And thanks to you, too.” He bobbed his head as if to say “You’re welcome”; then he jumped down and headed toward the storage room. “I’m going to drop this off and go to the bank,” I said to Mac.

“Take your time,” he said. “I’m going to finish sanding that table.”

“And I’m going to change that window display,” Rose said as she came bustling down the stairs. Halfway to the storage room she stopped and turned around. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”

I shook my head. “No. Do whatever seems right to you.”

She beamed at me. “Thank you,” she said.

Once Rose had disappeared into the back, Mac looked at me, a smile pulling at his lips. “You know you just gave Rose carte blanche to do whatever she wants.”

I shrugged. “It’ll be interesting.”

By the time I got back there were just a few clouds overhead and the sun was shining. Mac was sanding the top of the long table. I could see the fine grain of the wood now that the layers of paint were gone.

“You’re right,” I said, walking over to where he was working. “It should be stained. At least the top.”

He pulled the dust mask down off his face. “That’s the plan,” he said, running his hand over the dusty tabletop.

“You want me to paint the legs?” I said, leaning over to see what shape that wood was in. I could see some nicks and gouges but overall it looked good.

“Please,” Mac said as I straightened up. “You’re a lot better at detail work than I am.”

“Just let me know when it’s ready.”

The leaves on the big maple tree next to the old garage were about four or five different shades of crimson. The air was clean, and for some reason I just felt very glad to be home.

“It’s a good day,” I said to Mac as I started for the back door.

He set down the sanding block he’d been using and reached for a rag. “Hold on to that thought, Sarah,” he said.

What does that mean? I wondered as I opened the door. That thought was immediately followed by Why do I smell bleach?

The answer to that question was easy. There was a bucket of hot, soapy water that smelled like bleach in the middle of the small sunporch. Rose was on a stepladder, a hammer in one hand.

“Rose, what on earth are you doing?” I said.

She turned sideways to look at me, which made her perch on the ladder look a little precarious. “Oh, hello, dear,” she said. “I’m trying to get a nail into this bracket.”

“How about you come down?”

She shook her head, which made the ladder wobble just a bit. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t reach without the ladder.” She made a face. “Sometimes I don’t like being short.” She looked at me. “My mother used to say I was the little package good things come in, but sometimes I wish the package was just a bit longer.”

I crossed over to her and put a hand on the side of the aluminum stepladder to brace it.

“Come down,” I said. “I’ll do that for you.”

“I almost have it,” she said, and I caught the stubborn edge to her voice.

“Please,” I said, fighting the urge to lean over and snatch the screwdriver from her hand. “I’m taller. It’s easier for me to reach.”

“Fine,” she said. She climbed down off the ladder and handed me the screwdriver. I was tall enough to reach without having to climb on anything, and it took only a few turns to tighten the screw.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Rose had moved down to the end of the porch and was looking up at the single window.

“Well, bless me,” she said. “There are already brackets up here.” My words registered then and she turned to look at me. “I’m hanging blinds, dear. The sun can be pretty strong in here in the afternoon.”

I didn’t know where to start. I was still holding on to the screwdriver. The blinds, I decided. “Rose, I don’t have any blinds to hang in here,” I said.

“You do now.” She turned and walked back to me, stopping to take the screwdriver from my hand before she headed into the storeroom.

I stood there stupidly for a moment, and then I went after her. She was standing by the workbench. “What do you mean, I do now?” I said.

She brushed off the front of her apron. “Do you remember those old tea chests we brought over from Will Hathaway’s place?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said slowly, wondering where exactly the conversation was going.

“There were some nice roller blinds in one of them.”

“I know that,” I said, “But those blinds are way too wide for the windows in the sunporch.”

Rose beamed at me. “Not anymore. I cut them to fit.”

“You cut them to fit?” I rubbed the space between my eyes with the heel of my hand.

Rose picked a bit of cat hair from my arm. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “I measured every one of them twice.”

“Good for you,” I said.

The blinds were spread out on the workbench behind her. She started to gather them up.

“Let me get those.” I took them from her.

“They’re all numbered,” she said. “One is the window by the door, and they go from there.”

I smiled at her. “Pretty resourceful.”

She fluffed her gray hair and started for the porch again. “I’m not just another pretty face, you know.”

That made me laugh. “No, you certainly aren’t,” I said.

I set the blinds down on the floor just inside the porch and closed the stepladder, leaning it against the wall. “Rose, what did you use to cut the blinds?” I asked.

She was bent over, looking for number one in the pile, I guessed.

“Well, first I used pliers to pull off that little metal end thingy,” she said. “After that I just used that little saw of Mac’s to cut them, and then I glued the metal thingy back on.” She found what she was looking for and straightened up. “I do like that little saw,” she said. “It’s just the right size for someone who’s tiny like I am.”

I had to fake a cough to cover the laugh I couldn’t quite swallow. Now I knew why Mac had said “hold on to that thought” when I’d gone on about what a great day it was.

Rose had measured carefully, I discovered. The first blind fit perfectly into the slots in the hanger. So did number two.

She found the third one and handed it to me.

“Rose, why did you decide to put these blinds up now?” I asked, pushing on the bottom of one of the brackets so I could slide the slotted end piece into place.

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I think an office needs a little privacy, don’t you?”

“I already have an office upstairs,” I said.

“Of course you do.” She pulled the blind all the way down and raised it again to make sure it was working. “But you need your office, so I thought we could work here.”

I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to get it. Even so, I asked her to make sure. “Who’s we?”

“Charlotte and Liz and I,” she said. “We can’t do any kind of an investigation without an office.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can,” I said.

I finished hanging the blinds, and then the two of us dragged a small wood-and-metal drafting table out to the porch along with a couple of chairs. Mac came in from outside while Rose was shifting the chairs around.

“Is it getting interesting yet?” he asked, working to keep from grinning at me.

I glared at him. “You knew,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“I was just letting Rose do what seemed right to her,” he said. He looked around. “And she did manage to find a use for those old blinds. At least they won’t end up at the landfill. That’s good.”

I laid a hand on his arm and crinkled my nose at him. “Hold that thought, Mac,” I said. “She used your miter saw to cut them.”

The rest of the morning was busier than I’d expected. We didn’t have any tour buses, but several tourists taking a relaxed few days to drive around and enjoy the changing leaves stopped in.

Mabel Harrington’s son called late morning to accept the offer I’d put together for the furniture and other items from his mother’s house. I told him I’d get back to him at the first of the week with a timeline for picking things up. I hung up the phone and smiled at Elvis, who had been sitting smack-dab in the middle of my small desk, seemingly listening to my side of the conversation.

“He took my offer,” I said. It seemed to me he smiled before licking his lips. I leaned over and gave the top of his head a little scratch. “Oh, c’mon, you know you’re not really going to eat anything you find out there,” I said.

He stared unblinkingly at me. I stared back at him, and I have no idea how long that would have gone on, except all of a sudden his whiskers twitched. His furry black head swiveled toward the door and he lifted his chin and sniffed the air.

“I don’t smell anything,” I said.

His green eyes focused on me for a moment. He gave me a look that could best be described as dismissive and then he jumped down and went over to the door. When I didn’t immediately jump up he looked back at me and meowed loudly.

“I’m coming,” I said. I got up, squeezed around the desk and opened the door for him. He went about half a dozen steps into the hallway; then he stopped and looked back at me.

“Give me a second,” I said, pulling my keys out of my pocket. “I need to lock the door.”

He sat down and began thumping his tail against the floor, not unlike someone impatiently drumming his fingers.

“That’s not making me move any faster, you know,” I said.

The tail thumping stopped. It occurred to me that not only was I turning into one of those people who talked to their animals, but now I was also expecting an answer.

Elvis led the way downstairs. Liz was standing just inside the front door. A brown paper shopping bag was at the floor by her feet. Mr. Peterson was on her other side.

“Good morning,” I said to Liz. I leaned sideways to smile at Mr. P. “Hello, Mr. Peterson.”

He smiled back at me. “Hello, Sarah,” he said. “I like your store. It’s a trip down memory lane for me.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I was shooting what is he doing here looks at Liz, who was studiously avoiding meeting my eye.

Mr. P. was carrying a small black nylon briefcase, but Elvis’s attention was completely focused on Liz’s shopping bag. He sniffed at it and then pawed at the brown paper.

“Don’t do that,” I ordered, bending down to pick him up.

“He probably smells lunch,” Liz said, finally meeting my gaze. “I brought Chinese chicken salad for everyone from McNamara’s.”

Elvis twisted in my arms and the look he gave me was totally triumphant.

“That was very . . . thoughtful of you,” I said. Now I knew something was up. I knew a bribe when it was sitting on the floor of my store in a paper shopping bag.

I was about to grab Liz by the arm, pull her away from Mr. P. and ask her what the heck was going on, when Rose came from the storage room. She caught sight of us and a smile stretched across her face. She hurried across the floor, stopping for a moment to speak to a man and woman who were looking at a large rectangular mirror that was hanging on the wall near the cash register.

“Alfred, thank you for coming,” she said, taking Mr. P.’s free hand in both of hers.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can, Rose,” he said, smiling back at her.

She let go of his hand and turned to Liz. “You brought lunch,” she said. “Thank you.”

Liz handed her the shopping bag and Rose peeked inside. “I thought you were going to cook,” she said, looking up at her friend.

“I said I’d bring lunch,” Liz said. “I didn’t say anything about cooking,”

Rose gave me a quick smile and turned back to Liz. “I’m going to give Sarah cooking lessons when all this upset with Maddie is over.”

“Won’t that be fun?” Liz said dryly.

“You can come if you need to brush up on your skills.”

“As long as I can call for takeout I’m fine.”

I could see where this was going. Time to change the subject. “So, what’s happening?” I said to Rose.

She shot Mr. P. another quick smile and then focused on me. “Alfred is going to help us figure out who really killed Arthur Fenety. He’s a computer genius.”

I looked at Mr. P.

“I don’t know if I’d say genius,” he said, ducking his head modestly.

“You didn’t say genius. I did,” Rose said. “And you are.” She took Mr. P.’s arm with her free hand. “The office is all set up. Come take a look and see if there’s anything else you need.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” he said. He couldn’t stop looking at Rose, and there was something about the expression on his face that made me think of a love-struck sixteen-year-old boy. It occurred to me that he would have happily followed her off the edge of a cliff.

Mr. P. had a thing for Rose. Oh, great.

I turned to look at Liz, raising my eyebrows.

Liz held up her hands. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “All I did was pick up lunch—and Alfred.”

I leaned over, put my arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I will get you for this,” I whispered. Then I headed for the cash register, where a customer was waiting.

Mac came in a few minutes later. “Table’s all sanded,” he said. “Do you want to see what I’m thinking about for stain?”

I nodded. “I do. Let me get Charlotte and I’ll come out and take a look.”

“Okay,” Mac said.

I headed for the storeroom door. “By the way, Liz brought lunch,” I said.

“That’s not all she brought, I see.” He tipped his head in the direction of the sunporch. “That’s Mr. Peterson, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Interesting.”

I shook a finger at him. “Oh no. We are not using that word in here for the rest of the day. It’s already gotten me in enough trouble.”

He laughed and made a shooing motion with one hand. “Go find Charlotte.”

Charlotte and Rose were with Mr. P. in their new “office.” Liz was unpacking lunch, dividing the food between two metal TV trays. Someone had brought in a black wicker chair and Elvis was perched on it, watching Liz’s every move. “Charlotte, could you keep an eye on the cash for a few minutes?” I asked. “I just need to look at some stain samples with Mac. You can take your lunch right after that.”

“Of course,” she said. She looked at Rose. “I’ll be right back.”

I linked my arm through Charlotte’s as we walked back to the front of the building. “Mr. P. likes Rose,” I said.

She smiled. “You noticed.”

“It’s kind of hard not to. He’s like a love-struck teenager.”

“Alfred is a nice man,” Charlotte said, glancing back over her shoulder. “That whole incident over at Legacy Place aside. He’s very popular with the ladies.”

I leaned my head against her. “You know that if he hurts Rose in any way I’ll have to have a serious talk with him.”

“I know,” she said. She reached over and laid a hand against my cheek. “And speaking of talks, thank you for whatever you said to Nicolas.”

“I didn’t have to say much,” I said. “Nick loves you.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “He also thinks I’m a hundred and two and should be home, in a rocking chair, with a shawl around my shoulders.”

I laughed. “C’mon, Charlotte. He’s not that bad.”

She smiled. “All right. He’s not. But he doesn’t understand why we need to help Maddie. I’m glad you do. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

As far back as I could remember, Charlotte and Rose and Liz had been in my life. They were a cross between Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother and Mother Teresa. I’d never for a moment doubted how much they loved me.

I laid my head on her shoulder for a moment. “I’m always, always on your side,” I said.

Mac took me out to the workshop to show me his choices for the table stain. “That one,” I said immediately, pointing to the darkest of the four choices.

“That was my choice, too,” he said.

We talked about paint colors for the table legs and then I headed back to the shop.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Mac called after me.

I lifted a hand in the air to show I’d heard him.

Liz was waiting for me by the door to the sunporch. She handed me two cardboard takeout containers.

“Thank you,” I said. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder. Mr. P. was showing Rose something on his computer screen.

Rose looked up from the computer then and beckoned to me. I handed the food containers back to Liz and walked over to her.

“Alfred needs the—” She looked at Mr. P.

“Password for the Wi-Fi,” he said.

“Are you going to be doing anything illegal?” I joked, smiling so he’d know I was kidding.

“Not that could be traced back here,” he said. His expression was completely serious and for a moment I wondered if he was, too.

I gestured at the keyboard. “May I?” I asked.

Mr. P. nodded and I leaned over and typed in the long combination of letters and symbols that made up the password. “There you go,” I said.

Rose smiled. “Thank you, Sarah.” She caught my hand and gave it a squeeze.

I retrieved lunch from Liz just as Mac came in the back door. “I’ll be out front if you need me,” I told her.

I sent Charlotte back to eat with the others. Mac pulled out the low stool we kept behind the counter and I sat in the tub chair.

“We should make another one of those,” Mac said, gesturing at my seat with his chopsticks. “How many times has someone wanted to buy that one?”

“At least half a dozen,” I said, taking the lid off my container of Chinese chicken salad. Second Chance wasn’t usually busy at lunchtime. Today wasn’t any different. Mac and I ate our lunch and talked about when we could pick up the furniture from Mabel Harrington’s house.

“It’s awfully quiet back there,” I said, as he collected our containers to be rinsed and recycled.

“Go see what they’re doing,” Mac said. “You know you want to.”

I stood up and stretched my arms up over my head. “I do,” I said. “I’m just kind of afraid of what I might find them doing. What if Mr. P. has hacked into the police-department computer?”

Mac smiled. “Then you’d better hope he’s as good as he says he is.”

“You’re not helpful,” I said over my shoulder as I headed for the back of the building.

I could hear him laughing behind me. “I wasn’t trying to be,” he said.

In the sunroom Mr. P. was still working on his laptop. I decided that if I didn’t look at what he was doing I had plausible deniability if I needed it. Liz, Charlotte and Rose were sitting by the windows, talking.

I stuck my head around the doorframe. “Hi. Do you need anything before I head up to my office?”

Rose looked up. “Sarah, do you still have Tuesday’s newspaper?” she asked.

“I think it’s in the recycling bin.”

“It’s all right,” Mr. P. piped up. “I already retrieved it from their Web site.”

Rose smiled and Mr. P. glowed. “I guess we don’t need anything, then,” she said. She looked at her watch. “Is there anything special you’d like me to do this afternoon?”

“Would you unpack the last of those quilts?” I asked. “They seem to be popular with the leaf peepers.”

“I will. Would you like me to put out more of the Depression-glass plates, as well?”

I nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Avery blew in the back door then, her cranberry-hued hair windblown and her gray-and-black jacket hanging open. She stood in the doorway, held up a piece of paper and grinned from ear to ear. “I am a mathematical genius!” she proclaimed.

I leaned over to look at her math test—that was what she was holding up. Then I grinned back at her. “Avery! That’s a ninety-two. Wonderful!”

“Yes, it is,” she said, squaring her shoulders with pride. She held up her hand and I high-fived her.

Charlotte and Rose were both smiling. Rose clapped.

Liz got out of her seat and came over to Avery. “Good work,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” Avery asked.

“Really,” Liz said, wrapping her in a hug. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Rose. “Rose, we’re going to need a cake.”

“Well, yes,” Rose said. She leaned forward in her chair and looked at Avery. “What kind of cake would you like?”

“Chocolate with that topping stuff that has brown sugar and coconut,” Avery said, as Liz let go of her and took the test from her hand.

“German chocolate,” Rose said.

Avery nodded enthusiastically. “That’s it.” Then, like a little kid, she added, “Please and thank you.” She noticed Alfred Peterson then. “Hey, Mr. P.,” she said.

He looked up from the keyboard. “Hello, Avery,” he said. “Good job on the math test.”

She grinned again. “Thanks. I bet you were good at math because you’re good with computers.”

How did she know that? I’d found out about his alleged computer skills only about an hour ago.

Mr. Peterson smoothed a veiny hand back over the top of his mostly smooth head. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I was a bit of a bad boy in my high school days.”

Liz suddenly had a coughing fit. I thumped her on the back. “Avery, get your grandmother’s tea,” I said. “It’s dry in here.” I’d caught a glimpse of Liz’s face and I knew her sudden coughing spell had nothing to do with dry air and everything to do with Alfred Peterson’s declaration that he’d been a bad boy back in his high school days.

Liz took a sip of her probably cold tea and sat down again. I noticed she avoided looking me in the eye—just as well because I was a bit afraid that if she did I’d be the one having a sudden coughing jag.

“What are you all doing out here, anyway?” Avery asked.

“It’s our office,” Rose said.

“You mean for helping Mrs. H.”

Charlotte nodded. “Mr. Peterson is helping us.”

“Very cool, Mr. P.,” Avery said. She held up her hand and the old man high-fived her, which made me like him just a little bit more. “Hey, Nonna, you know what you are?” Avery asked.

“The world’s best grandmother?” Liz said.

Avery rolled her eyes. “You’re so funny,” she said. “You guys are Charlie’s Angels.” She looked at Charlotte. “You’re Lucy Liu. Nonna is Cameron Diaz and Rose is Drew Barrymore.”

Liz looked over at me. “Not a word, Sarah,” she warned, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I mimicked zipping my mouth, locking it and putting the key in my shirt pocket.

“Does that mean I’m Bernie Mac?” Mr. P. asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Avery said, as though that was obvious.

“I’d like to be Farrah,” Liz said, patting her blond hair.

Avery shook her head. “Well, whoever that is, she’s not one of Charlie’s Angels, so you can’t.”

Charlotte smiled. “Farrah Fawcett was one of the original Charlie’s Angels,” she said. “On TV.”

“Are you serious?” Avery asked. She glanced over at me.

I nodded.

“I have to see that. Can we download it?” she said to Liz.

“When your homework is done,” Liz said, reaching for her tea and frowning at the empty cup.

“You should be Jaclyn Smith,” Rose said to Liz.

“Why?” Liz asked.

“She had the nicest clothes.”

“So that would make you Farrah.”

Rose nodded. “I know. I have the best hair so I should be Farrah.” She tossed her gray curls.

“Maybe I should be Farrah,” Charlotte said.

Rose and Liz both turned to look at her.

“You’re Kate Jackson,” Liz said.

Rose nodded her agreement. “No doubt about it. You’re the smartest of all of us.”

I waved a hand at them. “What about me?” I asked. “Who am I?”

“Napthathion,” Mr. P. said.

I looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “That’s the name of the poison that killed Arthur Fenety.”

“Naptha what?” Liz asked.

“Napthathion. It’s a pesticide. It was banned just over two years ago.”

“This helps, doesn’t it?” Rose said. “How on earth could Maddie have gotten her hands on a chemical that was banned two years ago? What was it used for?”

Mr. P. glanced at the computer screen again. “Before it was banned it was used to control—”

“Earwigs,” Charlotte said, slowly. “Not slugs. Earwigs.” All the color had drained from her face.

“How did you know that?” I asked. This was the second time I’d seen Charlotte react to a conversation about what had killed Arthur Fenety.

She had to swallow a couple of times before she answered me. “I have a bottle of it in my garage,” she said.