by Sofie Ryan
I got to my feet and came around the desk. “I’m better. Thank you for being the voice of reason earlier.”
Jess wrapped me in a hug. “Yeah, that’s me. The voice of reason.” She narrowed her blue eyes. “Have you heard from Nick yet?”
I shook my head.
“Want me to go bang on his door and wake him up?”
I knew she’d do it and a tiny part of me wanted to say yes. But I didn’t. “No, you don’t need to do that,” I said.
“Are you sure?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “You must have a boom box somewhere out in the old garage. I could do my impersonation of John Cusack as Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything and play Peter Gabriel outside Nick’s bedroom window.”
I laughed. “Sadly, there are no boom boxes in any of our storage spaces, so even though I’m sure you’d do a wonderful Lloyd Dobler, I’m going to have to say no to that idea, too.”
Jess dipped her head in a half bow. “If you change your mind I’m only a text away.” She lifted her head and her eyes met mine. “For whatever you need.”
I felt my chest tighten. Jess had been my best friend since we’d met in college. She was up for any hare-brained idea I came up with. She was up for any hare-brained idea Rose came up with. It gave me a sense of a bit of the grief Debra was feeling.
“What would I do without you?” I blurted.
“You planning on running off to join the circus?” Jess said.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Did you forget to mention you were heading up to the International Space Station?” She pointed a finger at the ceiling.
“Also no,” I said.
She smiled. “Then I guess you’re not going to find out.”
I gave her another hug, thanked her for dropping off the pillows and she left after I promised I’d talk to her later. I sat down at my desk again and picked up my phone, hoping I’d somehow missed a call or a text from Nick. I hadn’t. It didn’t matter. Maybe I’d been hanging around Rose too much because I’d already made up my mind. One way or another I was going to find out exactly how Christine had ended up dead.
We gathered in the sunporch just before ten. Charlotte took a cup of tea and came over to me. “I’ll hold down the fort and Rose will fill me in later,” she said.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
As I reached for my coffee it struck me that there seemed to be too many cups on the table. Then Nick and Liz walked in together.
Nick was dressed for work in a long-sleeved polo-style shirt and black pants with what seemed to be myriad pockets. He stopped to speak to Rose for a minute, taking one of her hands in both of his. Then he looked around. He spotted me and made his way over to where I was standing by the table.
Liz, meanwhile, was talking to Rose now, one hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Nick said. “I got your message. I was in a meeting, that’s why I didn’t call you back; and then I knew I’d see you here.”
“Rose called you,” I said.
He gave me a wry smile. “It seems I’m part of the team.”
“There are advantages to that, you know.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “And they would be?”
“All the cake you can eat and there’s a rumor we’re getting team T-shirts.”
He laughed, then his expression grew serious. “Mom told me you and Rose knew the woman who died. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said. “We met Christine at the cat show in Searsport. She was funny and kind and I’m sorry I’m not going to get to know her better.” I cleared my throat. “I hear you went above and beyond to try to save her. You didn’t want to give up.”
He pulled a hand across his mouth. “We did everything we could think of. It was too late.”
“I know,” I said. For a moment I didn’t say anything more, but then I asked the question I wasn’t sure if he’d answer. “Nick, what do you know about the cause of the fire?”
“Only what I’ve heard, which isn’t much.” His expression grew wary. “Last night I was focused on the victim . . . I’m sorry, on your friend. I didn’t see much.”
“I’m guessing the cause of death was smoke inhalation.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked away for a moment.
“C’mon, Nick,” I said, making sure I kept my voice low. “You know Mr. P. can find out.”
“It looks that way,” he finally said.
I set my cup on the table. “How long before they know what happened?”
“I don’t know.” He held up a hand. “I really don’t. The medical examiner’s office will be working with the arson investigator. I’m going over to the scene when I leave here.”
I took a step closer to him. “What aren’t you saying?” I asked. He was sticking very tightly to just the facts—more so than he usually did. Something, some instinct told me there was more.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean you’re not telling me something.”
The muscles along his jawline tightened. “I can’t give you information about an ongoing investigation, Sarah. You know that.” His eyes flicked away from mine once again.
“I’m not asking you to do that,” I said, struggling to keep the growing frustration I was feeling out of my voice. “But I know you. I know you paid attention to everything you saw and heard last night because that’s who you are and there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”
I kept my gaze locked on his, almost daring him to look away. “It isn’t anything concrete,” he finally said. “It’s just a gut feeling and for all I know it was the leftover cold pizza I ate on the run and not any kind of insight. It looked like the fire could have started on the sofa. Maybe a light tipped over. Maybe. People are careless. Accidents like that happen all the time, sadly.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything.
“The very first death I investigated was fire-related. Guy knocked over a lamp on his way out. A pillow caught fire. His grandmother ended up dying from smoke inhalation. There was just something about the burn pattern on the sofa last night that triggered that memory. It doesn’t mean this fire was your friend’s fault, which is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
The Christine I knew—I’d known—didn’t strike me as the type of person who would leave an overturned lamp on the couch. There had to be another explanation. “Thank you,” I said.
Mr. P. clapped his hands then. “Please take a seat, everyone,” he urged.
We all found chairs except for Nick, who leaned against the wall and Mac, who stood behind Mr. P., arms folded over his chest.
“I talked to our client a little while ago. Nothing has changed with respect to the show and the pet expo, except that there will be a mention of Christine’s death when the show opens and it will be dedicated to her memory.”
Mr. P. went on to talk about the plans for the show—Cleveland and Memphis were taking care of security including adding our extra cameras to the arena’s system. Both buildings would be checked carefully for any issues after everyone was gone for the night and again in the morning before things opened.
“By now you all know that we have a couple of suspects that we’re investigating. And we’ll keep working on unearthing any others.” He reiterated the details of the pet expo and the cat show. Then he looked around the room. “Is there anything else we need to talk about?”
No one said anything. I kept turning three words Nick had said over and over in my head: People are careless.
No. I didn’t believe the fire was Christine’s fault.
I stood up. “There is something we all need to talk about,” I said.
Mr. P. smiled at me. “By all means. What is it?”
“I would like the Angels to take on a new client.”
Rose was across the table f
rom me. “Who?” she asked.
“Me,” I said.
Chapter 9
For a very long moment no one spoke. They all just stared at me. I could see Nick out of the corner of my eye shaking his head. “Don’t do this,” he said in a voice so low I was certain I was the only one who heard him.
My mouth was suddenly dry and I swallowed a couple of times. Across the room I could see Mac looking at me. When he caught my eye and he gave an almost imperceptible nod, I felt the knot in my stomach untangle itself.
“And what would we be investigating?” Mr. P. asked.
“Christine Eldridge’s death,” Rose answered. She seemed to understand what had been going on in my head. Maybe because she’d been having the same thoughts?
“Yes,” I said.
Rose focused her attention on Nick then. “Do you know something?” she asked.
I didn’t want to put him on the spot. Before he could say anything, I turned to look at him and spoke first. Something had been itching in the back of my mind since I’d found Mac in the kitchen that morning and he’d joked about me sleeping through him singing opera. “Nick, did that apartment have a smoke detector?”
He thought for a moment. “There was one in the living room.”
“Why didn’t Christine hear it?”
“I believe that she was wearing noise-cancelling headphones,” Mr. P. said.
I kept my attention focused on Nick. “I know which headphones she uses.” I paused for a moment. “Used. They were in her bag when we had lunch yesterday. I have the identical ones. They don’t have active noise-cancelling because Christine didn’t want to keep buying batteries for them. They were passive noise-cancelling, which rely on padding. Even with headphones on, she should have heard the smoke detector. I’ve set the one in my apartment off more than once, so I know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t she hear it?”
Something changed in Nick’s expression. He straightened up. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “You can try my headphones if you want to.”
“Nicolas, is it possible that fire was something other than an accident?” Liz asked from across the table.
Nick rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t know. I only got a quick look at the scene last night. All my attention was on my patient. It will probably be a few days before anyone knows for sure if the fire was an accident or . . . not.”
“I don’t want to wait for a few days,” I said. “I want to start figuring out what happened now.”
“That works for me,” Mr. P. said.
I turned to smile at him.
“I’m in,” Liz said.
Rose took a sip of her tea and set the cup down in its saucer again. “My vote is yes.” She leaned sideways and looked at Mac.
“I get a vote?” he asked.
“Of course you do,” she said as though her answer was obvious.
“Yes,” he said.
Rose turned to Nick. I looked at him again as well.
“Can’t you wait for just a couple of days until we know if there’s anything to investigate?” he asked.
I shook my head.
Nick set his coffee mug on the table. “Why?”
I struggled to explain my thought process that I hadn’t completely sorted out myself. I knew I just have a feeling wouldn’t be enough of an explanation for Nick and I wanted him on board, although why I did was another thing that was hard to put into words.
“I don’t like the math,” I finally said.
“What do you mean?” Mr. P. asked.
“What are the odds the fire would happen on the one night of the week that Christine shouldn’t have been home but was?” I looked from Alfred to Nick. “And what are the odds that the smoke detector wouldn’t work on the exact same night?” I held up a hand to stop any objection Nick was going to make. “I know those headphones, Nick, and they wouldn’t have blocked the sound. And what are the odds that also on that same night Christine’s car wouldn’t be in the parking lot in its normal spot? It would have alerted her neighbors that she was in that apartment a lot sooner and maybe have saved her life.”
“Random things happen, Sarah,” Nick said.
“Yes, they do,” I said, struggling to keep my rising frustration out of my voice. “You find a quarter on the sidewalk. That’s random. You get the cupcake with the most frosting. That’s random. Your class gets cancelled and you end up dead is not random.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked. I could hear frustration in his voice as well.
“Find out if the smoke detector was working properly last night. If . . . if you can show me it was then I’m willing to wait until we know whether the fire was accidental before we start digging in to what happened. If not, I’m the Angels’ newest client.”
He nodded and pushed away from the wall. “Done. I’ll talk to you later.”
Once Nick was gone, Rose got to her feet. “Where do you want to start?” she asked.
“I’m going to honor the deal I just made with Nick. For now we’re going to concentrate on the case we have.”
“We can do that,” Rose said. I saw a look pass between her and Mr. P. She’d said “can,” not “will.”
Liz had also gotten to her feet. She came around the table to me. “You know how to liven up a meeting, kiddo,” she said.
“I didn’t plan it that way,” I said. “It just kind of happened.”
“Nicolas doesn’t like losing.” There was a bit of a devilish twinkle in her eye.
I shrugged. “He’s going to have to get used to it this time.”
Her expression grew serious. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think you would have liked Christine. She was funny.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to know her.” Liz held up one hand. She now had a pale pink French tip manicure.
“Very nice,” I said.
“I fished all around that pond, and I talked to Elspeth, but the only thing I learned about Chloe Hartman is that she can be very single-minded.”
I looked over to where Rose and Alfred were deep in conversation. “That isn’t necessarily bad; Rose can be, too. And you.”
Liz laughed. “If you think you’re going to get me to say anything to incriminate myself you are out of luck, missy.”
Mac joined us then. “I’m going out to the workshop,” he said. “Come out when you’re done here.”
I smiled at him. “I will.”
“You can walk me out,” Liz said to Mac. “I have a lunch date.”
I folded my arms over my chest and gave her the once-over. Liz always looked impeccable, but it seemed to me she’d taken extra pains with her appearance. She was wearing a black skirt with a coral sweater and a gray jacket. “Are you having lunch with Channing?” I asked.
Channing Caulfield was the former manager of the largest bank in this part of the state. Liz had called on his expertise more than once for one of the Angels’ cases. He’d been happy to help because he’d been smitten with Liz for years. I teased her unmercifully about his unrequited crush, although I was beginning to think it might not be totally unrequited.
“That’s none of your concern, Nosy Rosy,” Liz retorted.
I leaned toward her and sniffed the air. “Spices, vanilla, patchouli. You’re wearing Tom Ford Black Orchid. Very foxy.”
“I am most certainly not foxy,” she said emphatically. “And what I’m wearing is none of your business.” She looked at Mac. “How do you put up with her?”
He smiled. “She’s awfully cute.”
“I have some photos of Sarah I’m sure you’d like,” Liz said, giving me the same sort of smile I imagine the crocodile gave Captain Hook. “I’ll find them for you.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. “You’re
not my favorite anymore,” I said.
She made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one’s going to believe that.” She started for the door, her high heels clicking across the floor. Mac grinned and followed.
“Tell Channing I said hello,” I called after them.
I walked over to Mr. P. “Thank you for your support,” I said. “I’m sorry for just dropping everything on all of you.”
“You always have my support, my dear,” he said. He slipped off his glasses and began the ritual of cleaning them. “May I ask what you’re trying to learn?”
I put both hands on the top of my head, lacing my fingers together. “I don’t exactly know.”
“Do you think someone wanted Christine dead?”
“I . . . no. If someone wanted her dead why would they pick the evening she wasn’t supposed to be at the apartment?” I sighed. “I don’t think her death was something that was planned. But something just feels wrong about the fire. I can’t exactly explain it and I realize I sound like Rose, but I just have a feeling.”
Mr. P. put his glasses back on. “I trust Rosie’s instincts and I trust yours. We’ll figure this out.”
“Thank you,” I said. I glanced in the direction of the parking lot. “What time is Memphis picking you up?”
He checked his watch. “In about fifteen minutes.”
“Call me if you need a ride back or anything else.”
He nodded. “I will. And please let me know when you hear from Nicolas.”
“I will,” I promised.
There was no sign of Rose in the workroom. I realized she must be in the shop updating Charlotte on everything she had missed. It turned out Charlotte was with a customer. They were looking at a galvanized washtub that was filled with a collection of old soda bottles. I couldn’t tell if the man was interested in the tub, the bottles, or both. I found Rose rearranging the pillows that were heaped in the blue steamer trunk. She had laid another plaid blanket over the open top, which made the whole arrangement look even cozier. She fluffed a fat blue pillow and came over to me.
