Telling Tails

by Sofie Ryan

  I shrugged. “Four, maybe five . . . hundred dollars.”

  His mouth actually fell open a little. “You’re not serious?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said, grinning at him. “I know about this much about accordions.” I held up my thumb and index finger about half an inch apart. “But I know that Hohner is a quality instrument and this particular accordion is in very good shape. I’ll see what Sam thinks, but this is better than a growler of Clayton McNamara’s beer.”

  Rose came downstairs then, carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed one to me and the other to Mac. “There’s rhubarb cinnamon coffee cake in the staff room,” she said. Then she smiled up at Mac. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said slowly, frowning in confusion.

  She patted his arm. “Liz is going to kill you when she finds out you sold that accordion to Avery,” she said. She turned to me. “I’m just going to put out those quilts you washed,” she said. “We should get two bus tours today.”

  I nodded and managed not to laugh until she’d gone into the workroom. Then I bumped Mac with my hip. “I’m going to miss you, too,” I said, grabbing my things and heading for the stairs.

  I knew it was wrong to compare two people with very different personalities, but I couldn’t help noticing how easy everything was with Mac. I couldn’t help wishing it was that way with Nick.

  Half an hour later I’d just finished printing out the orders that had come in via our Web site when Mr. P. knocked on my door. “Sarah, do you have a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, gesturing at the love seat across from my desk. “Have a seat.”

  Mr. P. sat down and I leaned forward, propping my elbow on the arm of my chair. “What’s up?”

  “I discovered some interesting information about Jeff Cameron’s young assistant, Chloe Sanders.”

  “Interesting how?”

  “This job was just for the summer.”

  I nodded. “Chloe’s a student at Cahill College.”

  One eyebrow went up. “That’s the interesting part, my dear. She isn’t.”

  I frowned at him. “What do you mean she isn’t?”

  “I mean she didn’t take any classes last semester.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Did she fail the previous term or did she drop out?”

  “As far as I can determine, she took a one-term deferment at the very last minute. She said it was for personal reasons.”

  “Do I want to know how you know that?” I asked.

  Mr. P. smiled. “I don’t think that you do,” he said. “What I find interesting is that she left that information off her résumé and off the job application she filled out for Helmark online.”

  “She wouldn’t be the first person who fudged a résumé,” I offered.

  He nodded. “True. But it’s more than that. Jeff Cameron was a guest lecturer in the Global Studies Department back in March. The lecture was only for students and faculty.”

  “Chloe was at the lecture.”

  “She was. It piqued my curiosity, so I did a little digging.”

  I could tell from the beginnings of a smile on his face that his digging had unearthed something.

  “So what did you dig up?” I asked.

  “Two weeks after he was at Cahill, Jeff Cameron was at a business roundtable at the University of New Hampshire. There were photographs on the university’s Web site.”

  It was obvious where he was going. “Chloe was in the audience.”

  Mr. P. nodded. “The tickets were sixty-five dollars. I don’t like to generalize, but how many young women would spend that amount of money to attend a talk on outsourcing?”

  “Not a lot.” I pulled my hands back through my hair. “Do you think she was having an affair with Jeff?” I remembered what Leesa Cameron had said about Jeff calling his assistant a Roomba. Would he have been having an affair with someone he saw as the equivalent of a vacuum cleaner? I was starting to dislike the man even more.

  My office door moved then and Elvis padded into the room. He jumped onto the love seat next to Mr. P., who smiled at the cat and reached over to stroke his fur. “I don’t know,” he said. “According to Rosie, the young woman didn’t seem that upset at the idea that her boss had run off with another woman.”

  He was right. Chloe Sanders had seemed a bit concerned, but she had showed none of the emotion that Leesa Cameron had displayed.

  “I’d like to know more about why Chloe took a semester off and why she left that information off her résumé. She used her faculty adviser as a reference on that résumé.”

  I linked my hands behind my head. “You’re thinking a road trip to Cahill College?” I asked.

  Mr. P. smiled. “I’m thinking a road trip to the library, my dear.” He glanced at his watch. “In about half an hour.”

  “For?” I prompted.

  “A half hour talk on the changing face of the European Community by Dr. Isabella Durand, assistant professor of government and Chloe Sanders’ faculty adviser.”

  We agreed to leave for the library in ten minutes. When I got downstairs I expected to find Rose waiting with Mr. P., but he was alone. “Where’s Rose?” I asked.

  Mr. P. gestured in the direction of the Angels’ office. “She said she has other irons in the fire. It’s just going to be the two of us.”

  I frowned, looking past him to the door to the back of the building. “What do you mean ‘other irons in the fire’?”

  He shook his head. “Those were her exact words. Other than that I don’t know.” He followed my gaze. “Sarah, you do realize that we have exactly”—he looked down at his watch—“twenty-one minutes to get to the library?”

  And Rose wasn’t going to tell anyone what she was up to until she was good and ready. Mr. P. didn’t say the last part, but it was implied.

  I made a face. “We should go,” I said.

  * * *

  Far more people in North Harbor were interested in the changing face of the European Community than I expected, although the strawberry shortcake they were serving after the talk may have had a little to do with the good turnout. Isabella Durand was much younger that I had expected. She couldn’t have been more than a year or so out of graduate school. She was tall and curvy, with a mass of curly blond hair and dark eyes behind her gray-frame glasses. She was wearing a chambray sundress and black lace-up gladiator sandals that showed off her runner’s calves. She was also an excellent speaker, advancing her argument that a European economic and political union made the case for a similar construct in our part of the world.

  Mr. P. and I waited until the crowd had thinned before we approached Isabella Durand. Mr. P. offered his hand. “Dr. Durand, I enjoyed your talk very much, although we disagree on the influence of a resurgent Russia.”

  Resurgent Russia? Mr. P. never ceased to amaze me.

  The professor smiled. “You’re not the first person to challenge my reasoning in that area.”

  “And I’m certain I’d enjoy hearing more about your logic, but I’d like to talk to you about one of your former students, Chloe Sanders.” He extended one of his business cards.

  Isabella Durand’s expression changed even before she read the card. Her body stiffened and the smile on her face tightened. “Is Chloe in some kind of trouble?” she asked.

  “She’s been working for a man named Jeff Cameron,” Mr. P. said. “He’s been out of touch with his family.”

  “You mean he’s missing.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “You can’t believe Chloe had anything to do with that?”

  Mr. P. cocked his head to one side. He reminded me of a curious bird, eyeing a worm. “Dr. Durand, why did Chloe attend a lecture by Mr. Cameron which was supposed to be for students and faculty when she was taking a semester off?”

  For a moment the professor didn’t say
anything. Her mouth moved and then she seemed to swallow whatever response she’d been about to make. She exhaled softly. “Mr. Peterson, the reason Chloe took last term off is between her and the university. You obviously don’t have Chloe’s permission to have that information or she’d be here right now.”

  Mr. P. didn’t say anything. He’d told me once that people didn’t like silences and if you left one, the other person would often step in to fill it.

  “But it’s not a big secret,” the professor continued. “Chloe was a little overwhelmed with the amount of work global studies requires. She needed a bit of a break; that’s all. As for Mr. Cameron’s lecture, Chloe had written an excellent paper on outsourcing—his lecture topic—for my class the previous term. I thought coming to the talk might encourage her to return to classes in the fall. That’s it.”

  She looked around before giving us a polite smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are other people I need to talk to.” She started for the table under the window, where there was coffee and some of what looked to be Glenn McNamara’s cinnamon-raisin muffins.

  Mr. P. turned to me. “I’m ready to leave if you are,” he said.

  We started for the door. “Do you think she was telling you the truth?” I asked.

  “Not for a moment.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “What about you, my dear?”

  I thought about all the evasive behaviors I’d seen from Dr. Durand: how she’d stiffened, hesitated, swallowed down her words. The professor was definitely keeping something from us. “Me, neither,” I said.

  He reached over and patted my arm. “Now all we have to do is find out why.”

  Chapter 11

  We returned to the shop to find Rose using her considerable charm on a couple—a man and woman who looked to be in their early thirties.

  “Thank you for accompanying me to the library, Sarah,” Mr. P. said. “I’m going to see what I can find out about our professor.” He headed for the sunporch, and since everything seemed under control, I went up to my office.

  I spent the next while working on an estimate for a family that wanted us to handle the clearout of their mother’s house. Mom, it turned out, was on a South Pacific cruise and was moving into an apartment when she got back. After about forty minutes I shut off the computer and delivered a cup of tea and a butterscotch oatmeal cookie to Mr. P. in the sunporch office.

  “Any luck?” I asked.

  He broke the cookie in half and took a bite. “Not yet. Dr. Durand doesn’t appear to take part in any form of social media.” He reached for his tea. “However, there are still some more rocks to turn over.”

  “I forgot to tell you earlier; I talked to my mom this morning,” I said. “I asked her to ask Dad if he could find out anything about Jeff and Nicole’s grandmother. I thought it might help if we knew a bit more about his background.”

  “That’s a very good idea,” Mr. P. said.

  “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  Avery came in the back door then. “Hey, Sarah, I’m done painting for now. What do you want me to do next?”

  “Help Rose in the shop, and when you have time, change the tablecloth and the dishes on the round table, please.”

  “Okay,” she said. “What do you want me to use on the table?”

  “Whatever you decide,” I said. “I trust your judgment.”

  She clapped her hands together like a little kid. “I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Can’t wait to see it,” I said. I headed outside. There was no wind and it seemed like a good time to work on my chairs.

  I opened the big front doors to the former garage work space and put down a large tarp on the pavement in front of the building. Then I got out my homemade spray box, which was nothing more than the cardboard carton a commercial washing machine had come in with the bottom and front cut out. I’d scrounged three of the heavy cardboard boxes when the Laundromat one street over from Jess’s shop had been renovated.

  I’d just set one of the wicker chairs in the box when Charlotte came walking up the sidewalk. I brushed off my hands on my old shirt and walked down to meet her. “Hi,” I said. “How was the gym?”

  “Educational,” she said. “I learned I’m way too uncoordinated for aquacize.”

  I slipped my arm around her waist. “I do not believe that,” I said.

  Charlotte smiled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but it’s true. That class was like the Rockettes’ kick line in water. I did learn a few things, though.”

  “How to kick your foot up as high as your nose?” I teased.

  “Heavens, no,” she said. “If I tried that—even in the water—I’d be in traction.”

  I held open the back door for her and we went inside. Mac was on his way out.

  “I think I found a pair of hinges that will work for that old hope chest,” he said to me. He smiled at Charlotte. “Yell if you need me.”

  Charlotte waved hello to Mr. P., who was still bent over his laptop, and we headed for the shop. We walked in to find Avery high-fiving Rose.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I sold that dresser and bed that came from Edison Hall’s house,” Rose said. She looked pleased with herself, and for good reason. We’d been trying to sell that bedroom set for months.

  “Rose is a selling ninja,” Avery said, nodding for emphasis.

  “That’s good news,” I said.

  “I got the full price,” Rose said tipping her head to one side to look at the heavy mahogany head- and footboards, which were resting against the back wall along with the side rails and dresser.

  “Full price? Avery is right. You are a selling ninja,” I said, giving her a hug. “I’ll get a check ready and let Stella know it’s here.” We didn’t take many items on consignment, but the bedroom set was a special case. The money would go toward Stella’s niece’s medical bills.

  “I saw Stella and Ellie at the grocery store last weekend,” Charlotte said. “Ellie is getting around with a walker now.” Stella Hall was the late Edison Hall’s sister. Ellie had been his daughter-in-law.

  “That is good news,” I said. Ellie Hall had had surgery on her back about six weeks earlier. She had little ones at home. I was happy to hear she was doing well.

  “Sarah, can I use some stuff in the boxes under the stairs?” Avery asked. Her eyes darted to Charlotte. “I mean, may I use some stuff in the boxes under the stairs?”

  I nodded. “Go ahead.”

  She headed for the storage space. Rose brushed her hands on her apron. “Alfred told me about your conversation with Dr. Durand.”

  Charlotte looked from Rose to me. “Who’s Dr. Durand?”

  Rose waved a hand at her friend. “I’ll explain later. What I want to know is, how was aquacize?”

  “Remember when Maddie convinced us to try Zumba?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Rose said. I was clearly missing something, not the least of which was that I didn’t know Rose and Charlotte had tried a Zumba class.

  “Maddie takes Zumba?” I said. “Maddie Hamilton?”

  “Yes, dear. It’s very good exercise,” Rose said. She turned back to Charlotte. “What did you find out?”

  “Nothing as far as another woman goes.”

  Rose sighed.

  “Jeff Cameron arrived at the gym to change and run, and that was it,” Charlotte continued. “No one saw him with a woman. Or anyone else, for that matter. He was pleasant, but he kept to himself for the most part.”

  “They hadn’t been here that long,” I said. “It’s not surprising.”

  Charlotte nodded. “The only thing anyone noticed about him was that he’s very competitive. He did some of the weekly timed runs the gym ran, and he always wanted to be the top person in his age group.”

  “What about Leesa Came
ron?” I asked.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No one I spoke to remembers ever seeing her there. I think she pretty much kept to herself.”

  “Maybe it was because she was doing Reece’s father,” Avery said. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the storage space under the stairs.

  “Excuse me?” Charlotte said.

  Avery turned to look at us over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said. “Maybe because she was sleeping with Reece’s father.” She made air quotes around the words “sleeping with.”

  “Sweetie, who’s Reece?” Rose asked.

  “She goes to my school.”

  “Why do you think her father was involved with Mrs. Cameron?” Charlotte said, frown lines forming between her eyebrows.

  Avery shrugged. “I saw them, two or three weeks ago, maybe. I didn’t know who she was until I saw the photo of her that Mr. P. had.”

  “Saw her where?” Rose said.

  “Running.” Avery made a face. “She pretty much sucked at it, by the way.” She looked over at Charlotte. “I know, I know, you hate the word, but she did suck. Her arms and legs were going all over the place and she had to keep stopping.” Avery looked at me. “She didn’t look like you when you run.”

  “Thank you,” I said. She seemed to have meant the remark as a compliment. “When exactly did this happen?”

  “Sometime between five thirty and six.”

  “In the morning?”

  “I like mornings,” Avery said with a shrug.

  Charlotte and I exchanged a look. Avery had to be the only teenager in town who willingly got up at five thirty during the summer.

  “I like to get up and make a smoothie and sit in the elm tree in the front yard. I like it there. I saw Mrs. Cameron and Reece’s dad go by a bunch of times—at least five or six. When she had to stop, she’d be all bent over like she couldn’t get her breath and he’d rub her back. Seemed kind of personal to me.” She looked up at Rose, who had walked over to the stairs. “I’m sorry. If I’d known it was important I would have said something sooner.”

  Rose leaned down and put her arm around Avery’s shoulders. “It’s enough that you said something now.”