Claw Enforcement

by Sofie Ryan

  “This isn’t a complete surprise,” Rose said. She patted her white hair. “We just need to widen our investigation and take a closer look at Christopher Healy’s life. And we will. First thing in the morning.”

  I was sitting on the edge of Mr. P.’s desk. Rose put an arm around me and gave me a hug. “At least now we don’t have to tell Liam that his friend is a killer.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

  The rest of the afternoon was quiet. I checked the online auction and was happy to see that most of the toys had more than one bid on them. The response to the photos was better than I’d hoped for as well. It looked like this was going to turn out to be a good fund-raiser for the hot lunch program. That was one thing Joe Roswell had done well.

  Right before we closed for the day I went out to the garage work space to see what Mac was working on. He had the top attached to the ice cream table and was cleaning the glass. I stood in the doorway and studied the finished piece. “I have to say that turned out better than I expected,” I said.

  Mac turned at the sound of my voice and smiled. “You had a good idea,” he said. “The piece is different enough to catch people’s eye, but it has a purpose as well. And we kept an old chair from going to the landfill.”

  “That always makes me feel good.”

  He set down the cloth he’d been using to polish the glass and came over to stand in front of me. “I heard what happened with Joe Roswell.”

  I nodded, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I really did think he killed Christopher Healy. The pieces almost fit together. On the other hand, now I don’t have to tell Liam that his friend murdered someone.”

  “That’s something,” Mac said.

  “That’s it?” I said. “I was hoping for one of your rah-rah pep talks.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “I give rah-rah pep talks?”

  “You say things like, ‘The Angels are good at what they do.’ ‘People always underestimate Rose.’ ‘Liz has a way of ferreting out people’s secrets.’”

  Mac took a step closer to me. “The Angels are good at what they do,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “People do underestimate Rose, probably because she looks like everyone’s idea of a grandmother. And Liz is better at digging up people’s secrets than anyone I’ve ever met. In fact, she scares me just a little tiny bit.”

  I smiled.

  “They will figure this out, Sarah. You’ll figure this out.”

  We continued to stare at each other and I had the sensation—not for the first time—that we were moving toward each other, so slowly the motion couldn’t be seen, but it was happening.

  Then Avery stuck her head around the doorframe.

  “Sarah, Charlotte needs you,” she said.

  I jumped, shook my head and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Charlotte needs you,” she repeated, carefully enunciating each word as though I couldn’t hear well or didn’t understand the language.

  “What for?” I asked.

  “Some guy wants to buy a couple of guitars.” Avery was singing just under her breath even though she didn’t have her phone out or her earbuds in. Like her grandmother, it was like she was tuned in to music no one else could hear.

  “I’m coming,” I said. I smiled at Mac. “Thanks for the rah-rah pep talk.”

  He smiled back. “Anytime.”

  * * *

  * * *

  For supper that night, Elvis and I cooked a potato in the microwave and topped it with tomato sauce, chopped leftover broccoli, chicken and cheese. Comfort food. He had some of the chicken. I had everything else. After we’d eaten I wandered around the apartment putting things away and picking up cat hair. The book I’d been reading didn’t hold my attention and I ended up sprawled across the bed watching Jeopardy! with the cat.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the case, about Nora asking me if her son had suffered. What Liz had said earlier kept looping through my mind: Joe Roswell didn’t benefit enough to be the killer.

  In the kitchen I found a box I had flattened and put in the recycling bin. I cut it open along one side to make a big rectangle of cardboard, which I spread out flat on the counter. I got a couple of markers and started mapping out what I knew about the murder and everyone connected to it.

  Elvis jumped up and walked over the cardboard, looking at what I’d written. I propped my elbows on the counter. “Who benefits?” I asked the cat.

  He wrinkled his whiskers. He didn’t seem to have any answers either.

  I looked at the names I’d written down. I remembered the cut on Christopher Healy’s chin and how he smelled like he’d been drinking. I went over what Nick had said, that Healy hadn’t necessarily had to drink the aconite to get it into his system. Elvis leaned against my arm and I reached over to scratch behind his ear as I studied my handiwork. Everyone was connected to the lawsuit in some way, directly or indirectly, I realized. I thought about how Mr. P. had told me that while Elliot wanted to settle the lawsuit Nora didn’t.

  Who benefited?

  I got my laptop and looked up aconite poisoning. Halfway down the screen my stomach lurched. I sank onto the closest stool. Elvis cocked his head and meowed inquiringly. I picked him up and pressed my cheek against the top of his head.

  “I know who it was,” I whispered. Just saying the words made bile rise in my throat.

  I knew who had killed Christopher Healy and that truth was going to hurt someone I loved.

  Chapter 20

  I sat with Elvis for a while. Then I went down the hall, knocked on Rose’s door and stood in the middle of her kitchen floor as I told her what I’d figured out. She asked several questions. I had answers for all of them. Finally she looked at me with sad eyes. “You’re right,” she said. I hugged her and wished that she’d told me I was wrong.

  Rose made tea and the two of us sat at her kitchen table and worked out what we were going to do with what I’d figured out.

  “This is the right thing, isn’t it?” I said.

  She nodded. “The right thing is never the easy thing,” she said. “That’s why so many people don’t do it.”

  When I got back to my apartment, Elvis was sitting just inside the door as though he was waiting for me. I bent down and picked him up. He nuzzled my chin. I sat down on the sofa, settled the cat on my lap and pulled out my phone.

  Mac didn’t answer. Then I remembered that he was still helping his friend with the repairs to his sailboat. He’d probably left his phone in the truck. I didn’t bother leaving a message.

  When I came out of the apartment in the morning Rose was just coming out of hers. She locked her door and came down the hall to join me. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. She reached for my hand.

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “I owe it to Nora.”

  The two of us had agreed that even before I talked to Michelle or Nick, Nora Healy-Casey deserved to hear the truth. So we weren’t going to the shop. We were going to pick up Mr. P. and head to Legacy Place.

  “I am at a loss for words,” Mr. P. said when he got into the backseat of the SUV. Rose reached an arm over. He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “I’m sorry it turned out like this,” I said.

  “I know, my dear,” he said. “So am I.”

  Mr. P. had used the pretext for the early visit that he was dropping off more pictures. This wasn’t the kind of thing any of us felt comfortable talking about on the phone. He’d actually found a photo album and brought it with him.

  “Please, all of you, come in for a few minutes,” Elliot said. “Nora’s resting. She’ll be sorry she missed you.” He took the album and sat on the arm of a chair, flipping through it. He grinned at a page of photos. “We were so young, Alfred. So full of life.”

  “Yes, we were,”
Mr. P. said. “So was your stepson. Why did you kill him?”

  I waited for a denial, an expression of outrage. It didn’t come. Elliot set the album aside and looked at his friend.

  “You don’t understand, Alf,” he said. “Christopher didn’t use the money he’d inherited from his father to buy that piece of land. Most of that inheritance is long gone, wasted on pipe dreams and pie-in-the-sky schemes. He convinced his mother to give him the money.” He looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting Mr. P.’s steady, nonjudgmental gaze. “We needed that money. There are treatments in Europe that could help Nora. I told him that. I begged him to settle the lawsuit, to get the money back.”

  “What happened?” Mr. P. asked. His voice was steady.

  Rose was beside me on the sofa. I felt for her hand and, when I found it, linked my fingers with hers.

  Elliot swiped a hand over his mouth. “I couldn’t just do nothing. Not with Nora’s life at stake. I went to see Christopher. We got into an argument. I admit I hit him.” He kept his eyes fixed on Mr. P., almost as if he thought that if he could explain things to his friend, then everyone else would understand. “We were talking about his mother. I asked him what the hell was wrong with him.”

  I could feel his anguish. See it on his face. He’d killed his stepson and yet I felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

  “He called me an old fool. He said I needed to accept that Nora was going to die and that these new treatments were nothing but a waste of time. He said he was going to turn the nature preserve into a lasting tribute to his mother.” Elliot’s voice was ragged with emotion now. “He cared more about a piece of ground than he did about his own mother.”

  I swallowed hard against the sudden press of tears. I looked at Rose. Unshed tears shone in her eyes as well.

  “You understand, Alf, don’t you?” he said. “I had no choice. It was Nora or Christopher and I chose her.”

  “You remembered about the wolfsbane from our Scouting days,” Mr. P. said, “and you put it in his aftershave.”

  Christopher always kept a change of clothes, a toothbrush and a shaving kit at our apartment, Elliot had told us.

  He nodded now. “I don’t know how he could have been Nora’s child and been so selfish.”

  I remembered the story Sam had told me about the person Elliot used to be and, it seemed, still was deep down inside. My throat tightened. There was a noise behind us and I turned to see Nora standing in the doorway. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body. Tears slid down her face.

  “Elliot, what did you do?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  “I took care of you,” he said, getting to his feet. “The way I’ve done from the moment we met. The way I will always do.” He started toward her and she recoiled. Mr. P. and I stepped in front of him at the same time. He leaned around us. “Nora, please,” he begged.

  Mr. P. put a hand on his friend’s chest.

  Elliot looked at him. “Tell her, Alf,” he said. “You understand. I didn’t have a choice. Tell her.”

  Mr. P. shook his head. “You did have a choice. There’s always a choice, Elliot. And you made the wrong one.”

  Nora stood there, silent tears dripping off her chin. Rose went to her, put an arm around her shoulders. I stepped away from them all, swiped at my own tears and called Michelle.

  Chapter 21

  The police took Elliot into custody. “I need the two of you to lay this out for me,” Michelle said, as he was being led from the apartment, her voice still raspy from her cold.

  I nodded. “Is it okay if we meet you at the station? I just need a couple of minutes.”

  “All right,” she said.

  I turned to Mr. P. I wanted to cry, but I knew it wouldn’t help either one of us. Rose had taken Nora into the kitchen. The two of us were alone. I saw for the first time how painful this had been for him.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” I said.

  Mr. P. nodded. “At one time he was my best friend,” he said. His whole body seemed to sag.

  “I know,” I said. And then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I just wrapped my arms around him and let him lean on me.

  * * *

  * * *

  Mr. P. and I spent a lot of time at the police station explaining how we’d eliminated everyone else and how I’d figured out that Elliot had killed his stepson.

  “Next time, call me first,” Michelle said when she finally let us go.

  Rose had stayed with Nora until her sister arrived. Liz had picked Rose up and taken her home and that’s where I took Mr. P.

  Before he got out of the car he turned to look at me. “You did the right thing, Sarah,” he said. “Don’t doubt that for a moment.”

  I headed back to the shop. My head ached and my stomach hurt. I’d called Mac when we first got to the police station. He met me at the door. Charlotte was with him.

  “Forget about the shop,” he said. “You’re going home with Charlotte.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t.” It registered that he was worried. I could see it in his eyes, in the lines pulling at his mouth.

  “You can. Avery and I can take care of things here.”

  “I can’t leave Elvis all night.” Gram and John were in Portland and I didn’t want to disturb Rose and Mr. P.

  Mac put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll go feed him. And I’ll watch Jeopardy! with him. I’ll read him a bedtime story if he wants one. Go with Charlotte. Let us take care of you for a change.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I took my house keys off of my key ring and handed them to him.

  He put the keys in his pocket, then he leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Go,” he said.

  I went.

  Charlotte made me tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She listened while I talked and put her arms around me when I started to cry. Then we watched The Great British Baking Show and I was asleep by eight thirty.

  Mac picked me up in the morning to take me home to shower and change. Elvis seemed happy to see me. I picked him up and he nuzzled my face as I stroked his fur. There was a knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Mac said. “It’s probably Rose.”

  It wasn’t Rose. It was Mr. P. He was holding a small blue cardboard box with a lid. I recognized it at once.

  “Hello, my dear. How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m all right,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right as well,” he said.

  He indicated the box. “Rosie gave me this last night.” He glanced at Mac. “It’s a View-Master. I had one as a boy.”

  “That was a thoughtful thing to do,” Mac said.

  Mr. P. nodded. “Yes it was.” He looked at me. “She told me it was really you who bought it.”

  I smiled. “When we were at the reception it seemed like it brought back happy memories.”

  “It did,” he said. He reached over and laid his hand against my cheek for a moment. “And now I have another one.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days we settled back into our normal routine at the shop. Mr. P. had made the decision to help Nora in any way he could, which didn’t surprise me, and while he was horrified by what Elliot—who had been sent for a psychiatric evaluation—had done, he wasn’t abandoning his friend, either. That also didn’t surprise me.

  Nora’s stepdaughter, Chloe, had come from Phoenix. She was taking Nora home with her. Chloe’s two daughters were eager to see their grandmother and Nora had secured a spot in a very promising drug trial being conducted in the city.

  Nick had once considered going to medical school and I knew he had connections in that world. I suspected that he’d had something to do with Nora’s last-minute invitation to join the drug trial. Like the rest of us, he’d do anything for Mr. P. When I�
�d asked Nick, he’d just shrugged and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” which pretty much confirmed my suspicions.

  Late Saturday afternoon I was in the workroom trying to decide which table to move into the shop when Clayton McNamara called. “Sarah, I’m sorry to put you on the spot but a friend of Beth’s stopped by. Seems Beth showed her a picture of that china cabinet in the dining room. She seems interested.”

  Glenn and his cousin had hired us to help clear some of the clutter out of Clayton’s tiny home. He’d had some beautiful pieces of furniture and an extensive collection of Pyrex bowls and casserole dishes among other things.

  “Do you want to sell it?” I asked. The piece of furniture was 1920s vintage and had been well taken care of. The door had the original leaded glass and there were several different kinds of wood used in the inlaid door design. Clayton had bought it as a tenth anniversary gift for his wife.

  “Well, it’s not exactly Beth’s style,” he said. “I guess it all depends on how much money she wants to give me. I don’t have a clue what the thing’s worth. I don’t want to cheat her but I don’t want to get cheated myself if you know what I mean.”

  “Is she there now?”

  “No. She’ll be back in about half an hour. So what do you think? What should I put for a price on it?”

  I didn’t want to see him be ripped off. Glenn had been a good friend to me, and Clayton was the only family he had in town. And I liked the old man.

  “Why don’t I come over?” I said. “We can figure out a fair price before she gets there.”

  “I hope it’s not too much trouble because I’m going to say yes to that. If the woman hadn’t been a friend of Beth’s, I would have sent her on her way.” He laughed. “Glenn says I got to stop acting like a cantankerous old coot.”