The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

Chapter 13

“I thought you cleaned everything out of the garage last year,” Rose said.

“I did,” Charlotte said. “All I kept was the napthathion and something to get rid of the ants. But Maddie didn’t know I had it. Nobody knew.”

I turned to Avery. “Go help Mac, please. Now.”

“You don’t want me to hear stuff,” she said.

“No, I don’t.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “Okay.” She leaned down and gave Liz a hug and then left.

I looked at Mr. P. and gestured toward his laptop. “What can you tell me about napthathion?”

His fingers moved over the keyboard. “It was on a long list of herbicides and pesticides that the state banned two years ago,” Mr. P. said after a moment. He scrolled down the screen. “Where is that?” he muttered.

I waited.

“Here it is,” he said. He looked up at me. “Sarah, it wasn’t until napthathion was taken off the shelves that anyone figured out that it had any effect on people. It messes up electrical signals in the heart, but only in someone who already has some kind of heart problem and who’s taking a couple of different medications.”

“The perfect storm,” I said, softly.

Mr. P. nodded. “Exactly.”

“Whoever poisoned Arthur would have to have known that,” Liz said. “And they would have to have known that he had a heart condition and what drugs he was taking.”

“Maddie didn’t know,” Charlotte said. Her color was better now. “She told me that she liked the fact that he didn’t talk about his ailments, and then she said because he was so healthy he didn’t actually have any.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Rose said.

“It’s not bad,” I said.

“But that pesticide in my garage is.” Charlotte fiddled with her teacup.

I nodded. “Yes, it is. The police will say Maddie had motive. They’ll say she found out that Arthur was scamming her.”

“But she said that she hadn’t given him any money,” Rose said. “So she doesn’t have a motive after all.”

Liz shook her head. “Even if she can prove that, it doesn’t mean Maddie didn’t have a motive. The man had what? Four wives and at least that many girlfriends. That kind of humiliation is a pretty good motive.”

“So, who could have known that Arthur Fenety had a heart condition and also known what medications he was taking?”

“It sounds like the kind of things a wife would know,” Mr. P. said.

“Alfred’s right,” Liz said. “It’s a lot harder to hide something like that when you’re living in the same house.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up on Fenety’s wives.” Mr. P.’s fingers were already moving over the keyboard.

I nodded. I didn’t want to know how he planned to do that so I didn’t ask. Just the way I hadn’t asked how he’d gotten the name of the pesticide that had killed Arthur Fenety. I was beginning to suspect Mr. P. had a little more of the bad boy in him than I’d thought.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Liz asked.

“Do you have a phone?” Mr. P. said.

“Yes.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

“Can you sound like an old lady?” he asked.

“What? You’ll have to speak up,” Liz said. Her voice was shaky and pitched a little higher. She sounded a good ten years older.

Mr. P. smiled approvingly. “You can help,” he said.

Rose looked at her watch. “I need to get to work.” She got to her feet.

“And I should go home and see how Maddie’s doing,” Charlotte said.

Rose laid a hand on Mr. Peterson’s shoulder as she passed behind him. “Thank you so much for your help, Alfred,” she said. “I don’t know how to thank you. Could I at least get you another cup of tea?”

He smiled broadly. “Maybe in a little while,” he said.

I remembered the woman Jess and I had seen at The Black Bear the same day that Arthur Fenety died. I raked my fingers back through my hair. “Start with Grace MacIntyre,” I said. “Jess and I saw a woman who looked just like her photograph at Sam’s on Monday night.”

“One of Arthur’s wives was in town?” Rose paused in the doorway.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find her,” Mr. P. said.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Liz said to Charlotte. She pulled her chair a little closer to Mr. P. “So, where do we start?” I heard her ask him.

I walked out to the front of the store with Charlotte. “Can I ask you something?” I said.

She smiled. “I don’t know. Can you?” she said.

It was an old joke between us and I was glad to see it could still make her smile.

“Do you think Maddie killed Arthur Fenety?”

She looked at me like I’d suddenly sprouted an apple tree on the top of my head. “Why on earth would you ask that? Of course I don’t.”

“Then don’t beat yourself up because you have an old bottle of bug killer in your garage.”

Charlotte smoothed the front of her yellow shirt. “Maddie thought I’d gotten rid of all those chemicals. She’d been after me for years about using them.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “But what if the person who actually did kill Arthur used the napthathion in my garage?”

I looked at her. “Seriously?”

She looked back at me a bit sheepishly. “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” I said.

She reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You remind me of your grandmother.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”

“It’s meant as one.”

Mac had carried in a large box with the rest of the quilts that Jess had repaired and I’d managed to remove the musty smell from with vinegar and Woolite. I’d made a display stand out of an old folding clothes rack and painted it creamy white. Rose was sorting the quilts by color. She clearly had everything under control, and I left her to it.

“I’m going to do those dishes before I go,” Charlotte said. “I just remembered that Maddie had another meeting with Josh so she isn’t home right now.”

“Thanks,” I said.

She smiled. “Liz and Alfred Peterson are out in the sunporch, trying to find Arthur Fenety’s wives. I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

I shrugged. “I like Mr. P., especially when he has his clothes on.”

Charlotte laughed and headed for the steps. Mac walked over to me, carrying a couple of message slips. He handed me the pieces of paper. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“There’s a geriatric computer hacker using my Wi-Fi and doing things I don’t want to think about, but, otherwise, things are fine.”

“I’ve got things covered here,” he said. “Rose and I can handle the shop. Avery’s outside, washing those plastic chairs you wanted to put in the window. Why don’t you go up to your office to take a break?”

I pulled a hand over my neck and looked at the messages Mac had given me. “I suppose I could return these,” I said.

“Or you could put your feet up and let the world turn without you for five minutes.”

“Okay, that too,” I said.

As I started up the steps Elvis came from the small storage area underneath the stairs. There was a dust ball stuck to one of his ears and a bit of tape on his front left paw.

“What were you doing down there?” I said as he came level with me.

He seemed to shrug and then moved past me on up the steps.

“You’d better not have been poking around in any boxes,” I warned.

He flicked his tail at me. I was pretty sure I knew what that meant.

I unlocked my office door, sank onto my chair and propped my feet on the edge of the desk. Elvis jumped onto my lap and nuzzled my cheek. I reached over and scratched underneath his chin.

“I wish Gram was here,” I said.

My cell phone rang. I reached for it, smiling when I saw who was calling. “Hi, Mom,” I said.

I leaned back, shifting Elvis on my lap.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “How’s everything?”

“You talked to Gram,” I said. I pictured her smiling and nodding.

“I did. I can’t believe Maddie Hamilton was arrested. She wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Elvis had stretched out in my lap and was lazily washing his face with a paw.

“Do you remember Josh Evans, Mom?” I asked.

“Was he the little guy in the purple cape who could argue your ear off?”

I laughed. “That’s Josh. The purple cape is gone, and he’s a lawyer now. He’s representing Maddie.”

“Good,” she said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“There might be,” I said. Elvis took one last swipe at his face, then laid his head on my leg and closed his eyes. “Does Dad still have any contacts at the paper?”

My stepfather had been a journalist for many years. Now he taught journalism and writing at Keating State College in New Hampshire.

“He does,” Mom said. “A bunch of them got together a few weeks ago to talk about their glory days.”

“I bet that was fun.”

She laughed. I pictured her sitting out on the patio overlooking the backyard, watching the squirrels defeat Dad’s latest contraption to keep them out of the bird feeder. “Actually it was,” she said. “I finally got the real story about how he got that little scar on his forehead.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to like it,” I said.

She laughed again. “I know you are.” I heard her shift in her seat, probably reaching for a cup of tea.

“So, what do you need to know?” she asked. “I’m assuming that’s why you asked about the paper.”

“Yeah,” I said, picking a clump of black cat hair off my shirt and dropping it onto the floor. Elvis didn’t stir. “It’s a little complicated. Rose and Charlotte and Liz are kind of investigating.”

“You mean the murder?” Mom said.

I sighed. “Yes.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I know,” I said. “Try convincing them of that. I’m just trying to keep them from getting in too much trouble.”

“What do you need to know?”

I shifted in my seat again and this time Elvis lifted his head and glared at me. I stroked his fur and after a moment he put his head down again.

“Arthur Fenety spent some time in New Hampshire,” I said. “At least one of his wives is there. Anything about Fenety’s background might be useful. And I’ll pass everything on to Josh.”

“I’ll ask your dad when he gets home,” Mom said.

“Tell him thank you,” I said.

“I will,” she said. “I’ll let you get back to work. I love you, pretty girl.”

“Love you, too,” I said.

I ended the call and set the phone next to me on the loveseat. Someone knocked softly on my door.

“Come in,” I called.

Mac stuck his head around the door. “You’re not on the phone,” he said. “That’s good.”

I smiled. “I was, but I was talking to my mom.”

“I brought you a cup of coffee,” he said, coming into the room. He had a cup in each hand.

I took the mug he held out. “Thank you,” I said. “I could use a little kick start of caffeine.”

He leaned against my desk, folding his hands around his own cup.

“Have Charlie’s Angels come up with anything yet?” I asked. I took a long drink from my coffee. It was hot and strong, just the way I liked it.

“Charlie’s Angels?” Mac said, narrowing his gaze at me.

I nodded. “Yeah. Avery kind of gave them the name.”

“New Charlie’s Angels or classic?” he asked.

Elvis sat up and shook himself.

“That’s still up for debate. Although Rose sees herself as Farrah Fawcett.”

“Because?” Mac prompted.

“She has the best hair.”

He laughed. “So that must mean Mr. Peterson is Bosley?”

“He is.”

“And what about you?”

Elvis sniffed the air; then he jumped down and went out into the hallway.

I picked more cat fur off my lap. “I think I’m Charlie.”

He nodded. “I can see that.”

“This isn’t exactly what I envisioned when I hired Rose and Charlotte, you know,” I said.

“I seem to remember you telling me nothing ever happened around here,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Mac, do you ever wish you were back in your old life?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“What? And give up all this?”

“I’m serious,” I said.

He smiled. “So am I.” He set his coffee on the edge of the desk, tenting his fingers over the top of the cup. “I can sail for close to half the year. I get to work with my hands. And, c’mon, it’s never boring around here.”

I laughed.

“I don’t want to wear a suit and a tie. And I don’t want to sell stocks and bonds. I want to sell things I can touch. I don’t want to worry about what the Dow is doing. I’d rather see what Rose or Avery are doing.” He made a face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give a speech.” He pushed away from the desk and straightened up. “I’d better go see how Avery is doing.”

I held up my mug. “Thank you for the coffee,” I said.

Mac smiled. “Anytime,” he said.

I stretched my legs out in front of me. Then I reached for the phone. I really did need to return those messages.

Charlotte came out of the staff room just as I was about to head back downstairs. “Would you like more coffee?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

We walked downstairs together. “I talked to my mom,” I said. “Dad’s going to use his contacts to see if he can get any information about Arthur Fenety.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I just know his death has to be connected to all the women he scammed. Nothing else makes any sense.”

Mac was standing in the middle of the store, talking to two women. When he caught sight of me he beckoned me over. “Sarah, these women are looking for a rectangular table that folds for storage,” he said.

“The only thing we have is the Big Bird table,” I said, referring to the long canary yellow table that we’d had lunch at the day before. “And that hasn’t been restored yet.”

“Could I see it?” the younger of the two women said. She was dressed casually in jeans, boots and a fisherman-knit sweater. She looked enough like the older woman that I guessed they were mother and daughter.

“Of course,” I said. “It’s in the storage room. Come have a look.”

I took them into the back room and showed them the table. It really did seem to glow even under the bright overhead lights.

“That’s what I want,” the woman in the fisherman-knit sweater said. “Can you refinish it for me?”

I nodded. Behind her Mac held up two fingers, which I knew meant two weeks. “It’ll be about three weeks,” I said, adding an extra week so we’d have some wiggle room. I did a quick calculation in my head and added twenty-five percent to the cost. She didn’t quibble at all when I named the price.

“You have a deal,” I said, thinking maybe I should have added thirty percent instead.

We went out to the front counter and did the paperwork.

“Very nice,” Mac said once they were gone.

“I didn’t think anyone would want that table. I looked back toward the storeroom door. “It’s a very plain design. Not to mention it glows in the dark right now and most people can’t see beyond that.”

Mac just smiled his Cheshire cat smile at me.

I hadn’t seen any potential in that table but he had. “You can say ‘I told you so,’” I said.

The smile got wider. “No. That would be petty.”

I laughed. “You were right about that table.”

“Always good to have my genius recognized.”

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Mr. P. standing there with his laptop. He had a pleased look on his face.

“Did you find something?” Rose asked. She’d been dusting a collection of tiny china animals.

“I think I might have,” he said. “I’ve been looking through the archives of the Burlington Free Press.” He carried the computer over and set it on the counter. There was a photo of a man who looked like he was in his late forties on the screen. His head was shaved smooth but he had a neatly trimmed goatee that seemed to be about half graying. He was tall and heavyset, and in the photo he was wearing rimless glasses.

“Who’s that?” Charlotte asked.

“His name is Jim Grant,” Mr. P. said. “His mother is one of Arthur Fenety’s wives. Jim Grant threatened to kill him.” He pushed his own glasses up his nose. “Actually he threatened to drive his truck over Arthur and turn him into roadkill, which I think is pretty much the same thing.”

“Maybe he decided that poison would be a little neater,” Rose said. She smiled at Mr. P. “We should talk to this Jim Grant. How do we get hold of him?”

“That’s going to take a little more digging,” Mr. P. said.

I heard the front door open and I looked over to see if there was more than one customer.

“Maybe it’s not,” I said, slowly.

Jim Grant had just walked into the store