The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

Chapter 17

I dropped Charlotte off at Rose’s apartment building. “Give Maddie my love,” I said.

“I will,” she promised.

Before I could pull away from the curb Elvis meowed from the backseat.

“What?” I said, turning around to look at him.

He craned his neck as though he were trying to see over the seat back and then he looked at me.

“You can come up if you want to,” I said.

“Merow,” he said somewhat plaintively, it seemed to me. Then he did the neck-craning thing again.

“You’re a cat,” I said. “You can jump from there.”

He stood up and seemed to study the seat back.

“You can make that,” I said.

He sat back down and blinked his green eyes at me.

I shrugged. “Okay. You can stay there. We’re not that far from home.” I looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see him flick his tail at me.

I took Elvis home, gave him his supper and made myself a scrambled egg and tomato sandwich. I had to get to the grocery store. My refrigerator had officially gone from bare to pitiful.

After a shower I sat cross-legged on the bed while Elvis watched Jeopardy!, letting my damp hair air-dry instead of smoothing out the waves with the hair dryer. I opened my e-mail and looked through the file Grace MacIntyre’s detective had sent. I didn’t learn anything new. Everything he’d dug up on Arthur had ended up on the front page of the newspaper. My dad called halfway through the program. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to get any more information, either.

“Call me if I can do anything else for you,” he said. “Or if you need bail.”

I laughed. “I will, Dad,” I promised. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he said.

When I got to The Black Bear, Jess had already snagged a table close to the stage. “Hey, how was your day?” I asked as I slid onto the chair beside hers.

She was wearing her long hair smooth and sleek, parted in the middle, and her lip gloss matched her plum-colored sweater. “Great,” she said. “I found some fantastic vintage denim jackets in those boxes. Are you sure you want to sell them to me?”

I nodded. “We don’t have the space for them and that kind of thing really doesn’t go with everything else we sell.”

She smiled. “Okay, then. Thanks.”

I glanced around to see if I could catch sight of Nick anywhere. All I saw was a waiter threading his way over to us through the increasing crowd. He had a basket of nachos and a bowl of salsa, along with a glass of wine for each of us.

“I ordered,” Jess said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Absolutely. You know I’m a sucker for Sam’s homemade salsa.” I grabbed a chip. They were thin, crisp and warm. “What happened to your healthier lifestyle?” I asked.

“Salsa and chips are healthy,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve decided what I really need to work on is a healthier mind-set.” She made a sweeping circle around her head.

“How was your date?” I asked before I popped a chip in my mouth.

“Short.”

“Stature or duration?”

“Both,” Jess said, tucking her hair behind one ear and reaching for her wineglass.

“He’s a surgical resident. He got called back to the hospital before dessert.” She grabbed a chip, scooped up some salsa and ate the whole thing. “Umm, that is so good.” She gave a little groan of pleasure. “And he’s my height, so I guess he’s not that short by real-world standards.” Jess was five-nine in her socked feet and, like Liz, she usually wore heels, which made her closer to six feet.

I shot another look in the vicinity of the door.

“He’s not here,” Jess said.

I frowned at her. “Who’s not here?”

She took another sip of her wine before she answered. “Nick.”

I shifted in my chair so I was facing her. “How did you know I was looking for Nick?”

Jess tapped the side of her head with her right index finger. “Deductive reasoning,” she said. “You told me you saw Nick. You probably told him you were going to be here tonight. So he can pretend he’s coming for Thursday-night jam even though everyone in town knows he’s had a thing for you since he was fifteen.”

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open just a bit. “What do you mean everyone in town knows he’s had a thing for me?” Okay, so Nick and I had kind of made out a little that summer we were fifteen, but I’d never thought that meant he had a thing for me. Two weeks later he’d been in music camp, drooling over one of the percussionists, who had a big pair of . . . cymbals.

Jess shrugged and scooped up more salsa. “Okay, well, everyone but you.”

She was serious, I realized. For all of that teasing smile on her face, she was serious. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

I took a sip of my wine. “Why didn’t I know that?” I finally said.

“Because you don’t notice those kinds of things.”

“What kind of things exactly?” I said, running a finger up and down the stem of my glass.

“Men-women things.” Jess dragged another chip through the salsa and ate it.

“If you’re trying to say I don’t notice when some man tries to flirt with me, you’re wrong,” I said, reaching for another chip myself. “Every time I go to Noah’s for that organic cat food for Elvis, the guy who works behind the counter flirts with me. I notice that.”

Jess sank back against the chair, laughing. “Tyler is all of nineteen years old and he flirts with every woman who walks into the place. He’d flirt with his own grandmother if he thought it would sell a case of dog food.” She picked up her wineglass. “I mean you don’t notice when a man our age is interested in you.”

“That’s because there aren’t any men interested in me,” I said a little hotly. “Including Nick Elliot.” I knew I wasn’t as dense as Jess was making me out to be.

She tipped her head to one side and studied my face. “How many times have you seen Nick since the first time you saw him Monday afternoon?”

“He stopped by the store. So a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows went up but she didn’t say a word.

“He was worried about Charlotte. I told you that she and Rose and Liz are trying to help Maddie.”

“Uh-huh,” Jess said, fishing a chip out of the basket and breaking off a corner.

I made a face at her. “Nice try, but you’re not sucking me in. Nick and I have been friends forever and that’s all we are now.” That I’d thought about maybe kissing him when he’d walked me home after dinner was just a momentary aberration brought on by the fact that I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a date. And he hadn’t tried to kiss me. Which meant he wasn’t interested. The whole thing was meaningless, so meaningless I didn’t even need to tell Jess about it, I decided.

“You know, I don’t think Arthur Fenety would have been able to work his way into your life,” Jess said, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, if you’d been closer to his age.”

“Thank you?” I said.

She laughed.

I thought about Gram. I couldn’t quite picture her being swept off her feet by anyone like Arthur Fenety. It wasn’t that she was smarter than Maddie or any of the other women Fenety had scammed. It’s just that she wasn’t the kind of woman that any kind of line would work on. Gram was drop-dead practical.

“Jess, why do you think Arthur Fenety was able to scam so many women? Maddie’s very intelligent and I don’t think of her as being particularly gullible.”

Jess shifted in her chair. “I don’t think any of those women were stupid or gullible. I think Fenety just made them feel like they weren’t invisible.” She looked around for our waiter, caught his eye and pointed at her glass, holding up two fingers. “Did you ever notice how women love Sam?” she asked.

I laughed. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Women adore Sam.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s funny. He’s a good listener. He’s just a nice guy.”

“Exactly,” Jess said. “I’m guessing that was what Fenety was doing. He probably couldn’t keep the nice-guy routine up long-term, but he could do it long enough to con someone.”

The waiter arrived with two more glasses of wine. He set one in front of me and I thanked him. He put the other one in front of Jess. “Hey, thank you,” she said, looking up at him and giving him the full force of her smile. He grinned back and almost fell over his own feet as he left.

I shook my head. If Jess suddenly decided to start conning men out of their money I could see she’d be very successful. “Promise me you’ll use your powers for good and not for evil,” I said.

She just laughed.

I looked around again. “I guess Nick’s not coming.”

Jess flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Oh, he’ll be here.” She snagged the basket of chips with one finger and slid it across the table, closer to us. Then she narrowed her eyes at me. “I bet you a basket of these that not only will Nick be here but he will have shaved.”

“What does shaving have to do with anything?” I reached for the bowl of salsa before Jess ate all of it and the chips, too.

“If a guy likes you he’ll shave again at the end of the day.” She put a hand under the chip she’d just loaded with tomato, onion and peppers. “What did Nick wear for aftershave when he was in high school?” she asked.

“Hugo,” I said.

“You got that one pretty fast.”

I made a squinty face at her, which she ignored.

“Okay. Not only will Nick shave, he’ll also be wearing Hugo.”

“Fine,” I said. “Just to prove that you’re wrong I’ll take your bet.”

Jess stuck out one hand and shook it like she’d just gotten it wet. “Shake,” she said with a grin. She’d been doing that as long as I’d known her. I held out my hand and did the same.

Sam came out first, without any announcement, carrying his favorite guitar. He slipped onto a stool and went right into the slow version of Clapton’s “Layla.” It took at least a minute for people who had never been to Thursday-night jam—in other words, tourists—to figure out that the set was beginning. About halfway through Eric came out, picked up his bass and joined in. Sean and Vincent slipped into place just as Sam played the first few notes of “Sunshine of Your Love.” Jess suddenly turned her head, looked toward the door and held up her arm. Then she smiled and turned back to the stage. I didn’t need to look to know Nick was on his way over to join us. Jess was still smiling, her eyes locked on the small stage.

Nick dropped onto the chair Jess had snagged earlier.

“Hey, big guy. How are you?” she said, a huge smile stretching across her face.

“I’m good and it’s good to see you,” Nick said, grinning back at her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well.” Under the table she kicked my leg. “You’ve been home, what? Two, three weeks? And you’re just making it down for Thursday-night jam now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “You sound like Sarah.”

Nick leaned forward and smiled at me. “Hi, Sarah,” he said.

I lifted a hand in hello. I was playing along in my head, already pulled away by the music. After the Clapton set Sam and the guys moved into some Joe Cocker. I glanced over on “When the Night Comes” and saw that like me Nick was mouthing the words.

The boys ended the set by playing “With a Little Help from My Friends.” Jess put two fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle of appreciation. The rest of us clapped and stomped our feet.

Sam lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll be back.”

Jess turned to Nick and nudged him with her elbow. “See what you miss when you run off to the big city?”

He nodded. “You’re right about that.”

She leaned in a little closer and sniffed. “What is that you’re wearing?” she asked. “It smells familiar.”

“Hugo,” he said.

She kicked me again. “It’s nice,” she said. “You clean up good.”

She was right about that. He was wearing jeans and a purple shirt and he did look good.

“You too, Jess,” he said.

She got to her feet and stretched. “I see someone I need to talk to.” She looked at me. “And I’ll see if I can find our waiter. Didn’t you say you wanted another basket of chips?”

“Yes, please,” I said, sending her a daggers look while she was blocking Nick’s view of me.

She gave me a sweet and very fake smile and squeezed between her chair and Nick’s. “Beer for you?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Please.”

“I’ll be back.”

Nick slid over into her seat. He folded his arms over his chest and studied me for a moment. “Charlie’s Angels?” he asked finally.

“I had nothing to do with the name,” I said, holding up my hands as though surrendering. “That was Avery.”

“And they have an office?”

“A table and some folding chairs on my sunporch.”

He pulled a hand over his chin. “Please tell me they didn’t really convince Alfred Peterson to join their band of merry detectives?”

I couldn’t help grinning at him. “He’s their computer guru.”

Nick shook his head. “Heaven help us.” He exhaled loudly. “So what have they been doing?”

“Did Charlotte call you?” I asked.

“If you’re asking if she told me about the bottle of banned pesticide she has in her garage, the answer is yes. I called Michelle. She’s sending someone to pick it up in the morning.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“What the heck was my mother thinking?”

“Probably that a little bit around her roses wouldn’t hurt anything.’

He pulled a hand across his neck and sighed. “You’re probably right. Anyway, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal.”

“You didn’t leave any fingerprints, did you?” I asked as I reached for my wineglass.

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t actually pick up the bottle and leave any fingerprints on it, did you? Because I know you went and checked on it.”

He got that little-boy-who’d-been-caught-with-his-hand- in-the-cookie-jar look. “How did you know?” he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Because if I’d had a key I would have gone and checked that bottle in the garage.”

“The bottle is up on a shelf and it has a layer of dust on it that you could write your name in.”

I felt my shoulders unknot with relief. So whoever killed Arthur Fenety hadn’t used the poison in Charlotte’s garage. “Did you know the son of one of Arthur Fenety’s wives is in town?” I asked.

“I can’t answer that, Sarah,” Nick said.

“All right, that’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say yes,” he countered.

I shrugged. “If it was no you would have been asking for details.”

The waiter showed up then with a large basket of chips, a big bowl of salsa and Nick’s beer. Clearly since I was paying, Jess was getting her money’s worth.

Nick picked up his beer. I used a chip to scoop up a mouthful of salsa. “Did you know one of Fenety’s ex’s was also in town?”

He drank a mouthful of beer before he answered. “Since I can’t talk about that seems to mean yes to you, I’ll just skip that part and say yes.”

I smiled at him. “I told you I’d keep you in the loop.”

“So I should consider myself looped?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Nick swiped a chip, scooped up some salsa and ate it.

“Don’t even think about double dipping,” I said, pointing to the half a chip he was still holding.

He put his free hand on his chest. “Me?” he asked, the picture of fake innocence.

“Yes, you,” I said. “You used to do that so you could keep the salsa all to yourself.”

“It never stopped you, as I remember.”

I felt my face flood with color. Nick laughed. I ducked my head over my wineglass.

“Are you going to play?” I asked after a minute of awkward silence.

He shook his head. “I didn’t bring a guitar and, anyway, I’m way too rusty. You heard me the other day.”

“You didn’t sound rusty to me,” I said. “And you know Sam has more than one guitar here.”

“That I do,” a voice said behind me.

I turned and smiled up at Sam. “What do you say?” he asked Nick.

“The same thing I said to Sarah.” He held up his left hand. “My fingers are out of practice.”

Sam shrugged. “Best way to get in practice is to play.” He looked at me. “The Rickenbacker is great. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” I said. “I’m glad someone’s playing it instead of leaving it in a closet.”

He pulled his fingers through his beard. “Yeah. A good guitar should be played.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Eric coming with his bass.

Sam saw him, too. “Almost time to get started,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed through the crowd toward his office.

Jess made her way back to the table. “Stay there,” she said to Nick when he went to get up.

She took Nick’s seat and pulled the basket of chips a little closer. “Umm, these are even better than the last batch,” she said after she’d loaded a corn chip with about a third of the bowl of salsa and eaten the entire thing in one bite.

Sam and the rest of the guys made their way back on stage and started with “For Your Love.” They went right into “Eve of Destruction” after that.

“Sometimes our friends join us for a song or two on Thursday nights,” Sam said after the song was over. That got him a cheer from the audience. “One of those friends is here tonight. And it’s been a few years since he’s been up here on stage.”

“He wouldn’t,” Nick said quietly beside me.

I just looked at him without saying anything. Because I knew Sam would.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sam said. “Please give a warm Black Bear welcome to Nick Elliot!”

There were enough people there who knew Nick that the room got loud with people clapping and hooting. Jess whistled again and clapped, hands in the air.

I leaned toward Nick. “Welcome home,” I said.

He got to his feet, raising a hand to acknowledge the applause. Then he made his way to the stage, and I saw him raise an eyebrow at Sam, who simply handed him the Rickenbacker and then gave a nod to Eric. As soon as Eric began the bass line I knew what song they were going to do. So did Nick. He had taken the empty stool next to Sam and he lifted his head from the guitar, looked right at me and flashed a quick smile.

“Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles was the first song I’d taught myself to play on my dad’s guitar, the one Maddie had rescued for me. I’d played it for Nick. I swallowed a couple of times against the rush of emotion I suddenly felt.

Jess moved over into the empty chair next to me. She leaned against me as Sam and the guys started to play. “Thank you for the chips. They’re so, so good,” she said.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” I said, grateful to have something else to focus on.

“Yes, it does,” she said, reaching for another chip and nodding along with the music.

Nick had picked up the melody and Sam launched into the first verse. He gave Nick an encouraging smile on the chorus and as he slid into the second verse Nick joined in singing harmony. I’d forgotten what a great voice he had. Or maybe, more truthfully, I’d pushed the memory of how much I liked listening to him sing and play out of my mind. Sam came right out of “Peaceful Easy Feeling” right into “Hotel California” and Nick followed along.

“He’s good,” Jess said in my ear.

I just nodded. Not only was I enjoying the music, but I was also enjoying how much fun Nick was having. It was written all over his face.

At the end of the song Sam held out a hand toward Nick and once again the whole place erupted with cheers and applause. Nick stood up, grinning, and took a bow. Jess was whistling and stomping her feet, and I had my hands up over my head, clapping. Nick handed the Rickenbacker to Sam and came back to the table. He dropped into his seat, face flushed.

Jess grinned at him. “That was great,” she said, her eyes dancing.

Nick shook his head and leaned toward us. “I’m just lucky Sam picked something my fingers remembered.”

Sam and the guys were playing the intro to “Pinball Wizard” and the crowd was clapping along. I shook my head. “No. You’re just good,” I said, and then I turned back to the stage.

The music was over too soon. Jess slumped against the back of her chair, one arm folded up over her head. “We have to do this more often,” she said.

“You always say that,” I said.

“And I’m always right,” she countered.

I turned to Nick. “I’m so glad you sat in for a couple of songs.”

“Sam didn’t exactly give me a choice, but me too,” he said.

I got up and stretched. Across the room I caught sight of Michelle, standing near the door. She saw me and lifted a hand. From the expression on her face it was clear she wanted to talk to me. “I’ll be right back,” I said. I worked my way over to Michelle, smiling at more than one person I recognized.

“Hi,” she said when I got close to her.

She was wearing jeans, brown boots with chunky heels and a cropped black jacket over a green sweater. She was a little thinner than I’d first realized.

“Hi,” I said. “They were good, weren’t they?”

She nodded. “Some things don’t change.”

I thought about saying some things do, but decided that would probably be a bad idea.

“Was there something you wanted to ask me?” I said instead.

“Nick told me what his mother and her friends are up to.”

I nodded. “I thought he would.”

“If you have any influence with them at all, please tell them playing detective is a very bad idea.”

“I’ve already tried that,” I said with a sigh. “It didn’t work.”

“Poking around in a murder investigation isn’t something they should be doing,” she said. She touched the pocket of her jacket and I wondered if her phone was vibrating inside.

“I know that,” I said. I sounded defensive when I didn’t really mean to. I was feeling a little guilty about how much poking around I’d been doing, too. “C’mon, Michele. You’ve known all of them for years. You know what they’re like when they get fixated on an idea. And it’s not always a bad thing, by the way. We wouldn’t have the bookmobile or the Botanic Garden or the new playground. Short of locking them up I don’t think you can stop them.”

I was expecting she’d give me an argument. Instead all she said was, “I know.” She hesitated as though she was searching for the right words. “Could you do what you can to keep them out of trouble?”

“I’m trying,” I said. I was trying. It was just that I kept getting sucked into helping. I thought about what my Gram would say about good intentions.

She smiled. “Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate that.”

There was an awkward silence. “I should get back to Jess and Nick,” I said. I don’t really know what made me say what I said next. “Can you join us for a few minutes?”

She looked surprised. Then again, I was surprised that I’d asked. “Umm, thanks, but I have to get back to the station.”

I nodded. “Maybe another time.” I turned to head back to the table.

“I’m glad you’re home, Sarah,” she said.

It felt like she meant it.

“Me too.” I said.