Telling Tails

by Sofie Ryan

  “Just stay there a second,” I called to Liz.

  “Why?” Rose asked.

  I was already on my way down the few stairs. “Just please stay there for now and I’ll explain in a minute,” I said.

  I started around the side of the house. I only went far enough so I could see what I already suspected. Leesa Cameron was slumped in the chair. And it was clear she was dead.

  Chapter 15

  I called 911 and we waited for the police at Ashley Clark’s small house. She took one look at Rose and Liz and invited them inside for iced tea.

  “Go,” I said. “I’ll wait out here for the police.”

  I leaned against the SUV and wondered if I should call Michelle. Or Nick. Ashley came out with a tall, frosted glass of tea for me. “Thank you,” I said, taking it from her and taking a long drink.

  Ashley looked over her shoulder down the road. “You . . . um . . . you found Leesa, didn’t you?” she asked. Her hair was loose around her face and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She didn’t look any older than Avery.

  There wasn’t any reason not to tell her the truth. I nodded.

  She blanched and swallowed a couple of times. “She’s dead, isn’t she? I mean, she has to be because otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  “She’s dead. Yes.”

  Ashley shivered even though the sun was warm and wrapped one arm around her midsection. She shook her head. “I would have sworn that was her who drove by barely an hour ago.”

  “And maybe it was,” I said. “The police will figure all of that out.” I gave her a smile I didn’t really feel. “Thank you for the tea and for taking Rose and Liz inside. Why don’t you go in and wait with them? The police won’t be very long. I’ll come and get you.”

  “Okay,” she said, and she headed back across the lawn to the house.

  The police arrived less than five minutes later, a patrol car followed quickly by the forensic van, Michelle’s small sedan and Nick’s truck.

  “Bring me up to speed,” Michelle said. Nick stood silently beside her, his hands in his pockets.

  I gave them a brief rundown of our visit with Nicole Cameron and how we’d ended up at the cottage. “I took a quick look through the porch window, thinking maybe I’d see something that might explain Rose’s memory. I caught sight of . . . Leesa Cameron on the deck. There was uh . . .” I stopped and cleared my throat. “The angle of her head and neck seemed wrong. There was an empty bottle of vodka on the table beside her.” I had to stop again for a moment. “And a pill bottle.”

  Michelle said nothing; she just nodded as I recited how I’d called 911 and we’d come back here to wait. After I finished I took her inside and she talked to Rose and Liz and Ashley Clark. We waited maybe another twenty minutes while she went down to the Cameron cottage before she came back to tell us we could leave. Nick had stopped long enough to put a hand on my shoulder and ask if we were all okay before he’d headed to the cottage as well.

  We ended up back at Rose’s apartment. I’d called Mac and he’d taken care of closing up the store. Jess had been there picking up the tea towels that she was going to make into pillow covers for me. She drove Charlotte, Mr. P. and Avery over, and when Rose urged her to join us, she’d come in and seamlessly started helping, washing lettuce in the sink and clipping chives from the pot in Rose’s kitchen window.

  Rose had coached me through the recipe for rhubarb crumble and it was cooking in her toaster oven. I sat down next to Liz at the table. Elvis was sitting on the chair next to her as though he expected one of the places to be his. Charlotte and Avery had gone to get extra chairs from my apartment.

  “I can’t believe that young woman killed herself.” Liz shook her head.

  “Maybe once her husband’s body was found she felt the walls were closing in on her,” Mr. P. said.

  “I still don’t understand why she killed him in the first place,” Rose said. She kissed the top of Avery’s head. “Will you put out the knives and forks for me, please?” she said.

  Avery smiled at her. “Sure.”

  Rose went back over to the counter and I got up to peer in at my rhubarb crumble. “It’s going to be fine,” Rose said quietly in my ear.

  I wasn’t sure if she meant my dessert or everything associated with Jeff Cameron’s death.

  We all squeezed around the table for Rose’s Chinese chicken salad. “I need the recipe for this dressing,” Jess said, gesturing with her fork. “It’s so much better than the one I’m using.”

  “The secret is a good balsamic vinegar and a bit of Dijon mustard,” Rose said. “I’ll write it down for you.”

  Rose came to help me when I dished out the rhubarb crumble. “Does it look all right to you?” I asked.

  “It looks delicious,” she said. “I’m so glad we discovered that patch of rhubarb in the backyard before you dug it all up.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if that birch tree hadn’t come down in the middle of that windstorm,” I said, carrying the first two bowls over to the table. “There was no way I could move it by myself. It was way too heavy. If Cleveland hadn’t come over with his chainsaw to cut the tree up and haul it away, I never would have known I was digging out rhubarb and not some weed that looked like red celery.”

  I turned around, and Rose was staring into space, holding up the serving spoon like it was a magic wand. She shook her head and looked at me. “Say that again, please.”

  “I never would have known I was digging up rhubarb.”

  She shook her head. “No, the part about the tree.”

  I frowned at her. “There was no way I could move it by myself?”

  She smiled. “Exactly.” She walked over to the table. “How did Leesa Cameron move her husband’s body? We still don’t have an answer to that question. It was found at Johnson’s Reach. It’s the other end of town from the Camerons’ cottage. There’s no way she could have done that by herself. I couldn’t.” She looked at me. “Could you?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “So she was having an affair with Michael Vega and he helped her,” Jess said.

  “Convenient, isn’t it?” Rose said.

  “What are you suggesting, Rosie?” Mr. P. asked.

  “Leesa Cameron killed her husband, and when his body is found she kills herself.” She looked at us all. “All the loose ends are tied up in a neat little bow. Whoever else was involved—whether or not it’s Mr. Vega—just walks away.”

  “You think there’s something we missed,” Charlotte said. “Something that will help us find that person.”

  Liz sighed loudly.

  “Yes,” Rose said, ignoring her friend.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Why was Chloe Sanders so gung ho about working for Jeff Cameron?”

  “She needed a summer job?”

  “Why that particular job?” Rose said. “She had a professor who was very much her advocate. Why did she put so much effort into getting Jeff to hire Chloe?” She folded her arms over her chest. “And why did Michael Vega buy an expensive fitness tracker for Leesa Cameron?”

  “So we keep digging,” Mr. P. said.

  Rose nodded. “We keep digging.”

  Chapter 16

  The Angels spent most of Tuesday morning checking out Michael Vega. The more they found out, the harder it was for any of us to believe he’d been having an affair with Leesa Cameron. Everyone, it seemed, said the same thing about the man; he was a good guy and a straight arrow.

  “I talked to Ann at the library,” Charlotte said when she arrived for her shift, referring to the head librarian at the North Harbor Public Library. “Michael Vega built the new puppet theater in the children’s department. Not only did he volunteer his time on a Saturday; he had the kids helping.”

  “He sounds like a nice guy,” I said.

 
“If you’re talking about Mr. Vega, it seems he’s pretty much perfect,” Liz said. She’d just come in the front door and she walked over to us, her high heels clicking on the wooden floor.

  “What did you find out? What did Elspeth say?” Charlotte asked.

  “I haven’t talked to her yet,” Liz said. “It occurred to me that maybe Jane Evans might know the man.” She looked at me. “Jess said he was a sports massage therapist. Remember? Jane injured her back last winter when she fell on the sidewalk. I know she went to someone for a massage.”

  “I remember,” I said. What I also remembered was how Liz had arranged for a weekly cleaning service at Jane’s house until she could get around.

  “Well, small town, small world—it was Michael Vega who worked on her back.”

  “What did she say?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, Jane pretty much thinks he walks on water. Not only did he do wonders for her back, but he’s also a devoted family man. She told me about this romantic dinner he planned and pulled off for his wife’s birthday.” She gave us a wry smile. “He and their four kids took her on a scavenger hunt to all the important places in their life—where they went for their first date, where he proposed, the little chapel where they got married. It ended with a catered picnic up at the park.” Liz rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly a romantic.

  “That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a man having an affair would do,” Charlotte said.

  “It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing most of the men I know would do,” Liz countered. “He had to have been up to something. No man is that perfect.” She looked over at me. “And don’t tell me I sound like a cynical old woman.”

  “I would never do that,” I said, putting a hand to my chest in umbrage.

  “Good,” she said.

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not stupid enough to ever tell you you’re old.” I could hear Charlotte laughing as I headed for the door.

  I went outside to talk to Mac, who was sanding a small metal cabinet. I had a couple of questions about my plan for Clayton McNamara’s house. He agreed with my estimate for the cost of the job and we talked for a few minutes about when we could fit the work into our schedule.

  I was back in my office, working on a plan of attack for Clayton’s house, when Nick called.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” he said. He sounded a bit off.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I got the results from Rose’s blood tests. I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you.”

  “That’s all right.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “What did you find out?”

  “I owe you an apology,” he said. “And Rose and, hell, probably Jess, too.”

  “Rose didn’t have a stroke.” I didn’t make the words a question because I already knew the answer.

  “No. You can say ‘I told you so.’”

  I pictured him shaking his head and probably raking a hand back through his hair. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Jess will.”

  I laughed, leaning back in my desk chair. “Yep. She probably will.”

  “I still don’t think Rose and my mother and the rest of them have any business getting involved in Michelle’s cases,” he said with just a little I know I’m right-ness in his voice.

  “I get that,” I said. I didn’t add that that was the problem. “More importantly, though, was Rose drugged?”

  “She was. Methohexital. They found very small amounts of it in her blood.”

  I couldn’t help it. “I knew it!” I said, pumping my fist in the air.

  “She was attacked,” Nick said. “I should have listened to her. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

  I took a moment before I spoke. “I know you are. Maybe from now on just try to keep an open mind when it comes to Rose and the others.”

  “I am trying, Sarah,” he said quietly.

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I know.”

  “I already gave everything to Michelle. You’ll probably hear from her. And if anyone was helping Leesa Cameron, we’ll find them. I promise you that.”

  “Do you know yet how she died?” I asked. I didn’t really expect him to tell me.

  “The autopsy hasn’t been done,” Nick said. “But you saw the vodka bottle.”

  “And the pill bottle.”

  “Sleeping pills. She had a prescription for them.”

  “What about Jeff Cameron?”

  “C’mon, you know I can’t tell you that.”

  I didn’t say anything. Nick sighed. “He drowned.”

  “Drowned?” I whispered.

  “He was hit over the head first.”

  “That would explain why there was no blood in the kitchen.”

  “It answers some questions and it raises others,” he said.

  I knew it would be pushing it to ask what he meant. I thanked him for calling and said good-bye.

  I’d just come back from the staff room with a cup of coffee when my phone rang again. I leaned over to check the screen. It was Michelle.

  “Hi, Sarah. Did Nick call you?” she asked.

  “About five minutes ago,” I said.

  “So you know what the blood tests show.”

  “He told me about the traces of the drug they found.”

  “Rose was attacked and I dismissed what happened as just her being old,” Michelle said. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “Rose will, too.”

  “We’re still investigating, and I won’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”

  “Then, as Gram would say, ‘You learned something.’” I took a sip of my coffee. “And I don’t want to sound like some public service announcement, but you weren’t completely off base. Most strokes happen in people over sixty-five, which Rose is, and more women have strokes than men. You could have been right.” It was easy to be magnanimous when I’d been proved right.

  “I could have looked at all the possibilities, not just one.”

  “So you do that next time. C’mon, Michelle. You know there’s going to be a next time with Rose and the rest of them.”

  She laughed then. “There probably will be.”

  “So,” I said. “I know you can’t give me any details about your investigation, but can you at least tell me if you think it will be wrapped up soon?”

  There was silence and I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said, “Honestly, Sarah. I don’t know.”

  There wasn’t much more to say after that. I thanked her for calling and promised to be in touch if the Angels came up with anything. I went downstairs and found Rose out in the sunporch with Mr. P. I came up behind her and put my arms around her shoulders. “I talked to Nick,” I said.

  She turned her head and looked up at me. “And?”

  “And there were traces of methohexital in your blood.”

  A triumphant smile spread across her face.

  “So someone did drug Rosie?” Mr. P. said.

  I nodded.

  “We wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t seen the needle mark on my neck,” Rose said. She leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment before I let go.

  “That was mostly luck,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Mr. P. said. “You’re also very observant, Sarah.”

  “I will admit I do like being vindicated,” Rose said, “but I don’t know how this information is going to help us.”

  I rested a hand on the table Mr. P. was using as a desk. “Nick said dentists often use the drug because it acts quickly and the effects only last for a short period of time.”

  “Leesa Cameron was a buyer for a chain of stores,” Mr. P. said.

  “N
o one has any connection to any dentist,” Rose said.

  I shook my head vigorously in frustration. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  I tapped the back of my head with three fingers. “There’s something back here. I just can’t pull it out.”

  “Give it time,” Mr. P. said with a smile. “You know what they say about two heads being better than one.”

  I held up one hand and ticked off the fingers. “All right. But really, there’s you, Rose, Liz, Charlotte and me. If two heads are better than one, what are five?”

  “A basketball team,” Rose said.

  I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I have work to do,” I said and started for the store.

  “Love you, sweetie,” she called after me.

  “Just because you were vindicated doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep having a regular checkup once a year.” I stopped and turned back to look at her standing in the doorway.

  “Don’t you have to get back to work, dear?” she asked sweetly.

  I pointed a finger at her. “This conversation is not over,” I said.

  She blew me a kiss and disappeared back into the sunporch.

  It was a quiet morning at the shop, no bus tours and few tourists coming off the highway, probably because it was raining and people just wanted to get wherever they were going. Just before lunch I called Sam to see if I could get a second opinion on Mac’s accordion. Liz had already threatened to show up at two a.m. with the other accordion he’d given to Avery and play Queen’s “We Will Rock You” outside his bedroom window.

  Mac had laughed and Liz had patted his cheek. “It’s fricking cute how you think I’m kidding,” she’d said.

  Sam was in his office when I got to the pub. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk, his dark-framed glasses halfway down his nose.

  “Knock, knock,” I said.

  Sam looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said. “That was fast.”

  “The shop’s quiet,” I said, pulling off my raincoat and draping it on the back of a chair. I set the bag with the accordion on the sofa.

  Sam came around the desk and gave me a hug. “Where did you get an accordion anyway?” he asked.