by Sofie Ryan
The jury was still out on whether or not the battle-scarred black cat could actually tell when someone was lying, but there was certainly some evidence to suggest that it was possible. More than once I’d seen him make a disgruntled face when someone was stroking his fur and not telling the truth. Mac thought maybe Elvis could somehow feel a person’s sweaty palms and racing heart when that person was lying. Maybe the sour face was because it didn’t feel very good to him.
“Am I crazy?” I said.
Mr. P. gave me his Mona Lisa smile. “Well, my dear,” he said. “It seems to me that’s a separate question from whether or not Elvis can tell if someone is lying.”
I laughed. “I think I’m just going to quit while I’m ahead.” I gave Rose’s arm one last squeeze.
“I’ll be right out,” she said to me.
Mac and Charlotte were both with customers. I headed for the stairs. Avery was on her way down, a cookie in one hand with—I was pretty certain—a second one wrapped in the napkin peeking out of her shirt pocket. Elvis trailed behind her, licking his whiskers.
“Do you want me to stay in the shop or go back to the silver?” Avery asked.
“Would you stay in the shop just until Rose comes out?” I asked.
“Sure thing,” she said, pushing her bracelets up her arm. “I’ll straighten up those place mats and runners.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Elvis had stopped on the third stair from the bottom. “Are you coming up?” I asked.
He cocked his head to one side and after a moment’s thought turned and walked up with me. I went into the staff room for a cup of coffee and one of Rose’s cookies.
“Mrr,” Elvis said, doing the head-tilt thing again because he knew it made him look extra adorable.
I got three kitty crackers from the bag and held my hand out to him. His nose twitched as he sniffed them. He looked past me to the cookie can on the little stretch of counter.
“Like you didn’t already have part of a cookie with Avery,” I said.
He made a huffy noise, grabbed all three crackers in his mouth and stalked out, flicking his tail at me so I knew just how miffed he was.
I was answering Web site e-mail when Mac tapped on my door about half an hour later.
“Your presence is requested in the Angels’ office,” he said.
“I’m guessing Liz is here,” I said as I signed out of the store’s Web mail.
He nodded. “Your guess would be correct.”
“Did Rose and Mr. P. bring you up-to-date?”
“Rose did,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you really think it was the former bank manager Teresa saw?”
I shut off the computer and stood up. “Mr. P. found a photo of the man online.” I stretched my arms out in front of me. “It’s him, Mac. The sketch, Teresa’s description, they match the photo.”
“So what was he doing skulking around Edison Hall’s house before six o’clock in the morning?”
I gave him a wry smile. “I’m pretty sure that’s where Liz comes in.”
Liz was standing in the middle of the porch, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a jacket the color of butter toffee and her nails were flame orange. “So basically you want to pimp me out,” she was saying.
Mr. P.’s eyes widened.
“No!” Rose exclaimed, shaking her head. “No one is expecting you to . . . do anything.” She looked shocked at the implication. “We just want you to invite him for lunch and see what you can find out.”
I came up behind Liz and wrapped my arms around her. “All they’re looking for is your very considerable charm,” I said.
She turned her head and glared at me. “That giant sucking sound you hear in the room is you, Sarah,” she said.
“You know that Channing Caulfield has always had a soft spot for you,” Rose said. “And don’t tell me you never noticed that. I wasn’t born yesterday. You know you’ll get a lot more out of him a lot faster than either Alfred or me.”
“She’s right,” I said before Liz could say anything. “Remember Royce?” Liz had managed to get information out of the retired mail carrier when the Angels were investigating Arthur Fenety’s murder.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, either,” Liz retorted. “But I’m not so old that I don’t recognize that the three of you are trying to flatter me into going along with this ridiculous scheme of yours.” She paused for a moment. “Luckily for all of you”—she raised a finger and made a loop that included Alfred, Rose and me—“flattery works on me.”
Mr. P. beamed at her. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said.
I pressed my cheek against her face. “Thank you,” I said softly. “I’m sure Channing Caulfield’s pants aren’t nearly as low-hanging as Royce’s were.” The older man’s trousers had sat so low on his hips that I’d been a little afraid that if he sneezed they’d end up at his ankles.
“Oh no, missy,” Liz said in a low voice. “You’re not getting off that easy. You’re coming with me.” She turned her head and gave me a gleeful grin. “Channing Caulfield may like me, but he likes younger women even more.” She raised one eyebrow. “Make sure you wear something that shows some leg. And when I say some, I mean lots.”
I had the sinking feeling that it wasn’t Liz who had just been played, it was me.
Chapter 8
Channing Caulfield might have been retired from the bank, but he was still working, at least part-time, for an investment firm in town. Liz called the office and set up a lunch appointment for the next day.
“You see?” I teased. “There’s no way we’d be able to see him on a Saturday if it wasn’t you he was going to be having lunch with.”
“Us,” Liz said firmly. “And remember what I told you: wear a dress. Short is good. Tight is better.”
I stuck my tongue out at her back as she headed for the door. “I saw that,” she said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “One of these days your face is going to freeze like that.”
Charlotte was at the cash desk. She laughed and walked over to me. “I see you got drafted to have lunch with Liz and Chucky Caulfield.”
I rolled my eyes. “Liz wants me to wear something short and tight.”
Charlotte folded her arms over her aproned front. She narrowed her brown eyes. “Do you still have that blue-gray wrap dress?” she asked.
“Not you, too,” I said.
“Chucky always did like the ladies.” Charlotte smiled. “And you look so pretty in that dress.” She reached over and straightened my collar.
That dress met all of Liz’s requirements. It was short and tight and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d be able to breathe, let alone eat, if I wore it.
“Why do you call Channing Caulfield Chucky?” I asked.
Charlotte smiled. “We were in the same first grade class. In those days Channing was the kind of name that would get you beaten up on the playground. The teacher very wisely called him Chuck. In a classroom full of Bobbys and Tommys, that very quickly became Chucky and it stuck.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure he liked being called Chucky once we got a few years past first grade, but the name stuck.”
I put a hand on the back of my head and stretched my neck. I could use a cup of coffee and one of those peanut butter cookies, assuming there were any left in the staff room. “So don’t let Liz call him Chucky if we want to get any information out of him,” I said.
“Good grief, yes,” Charlotte exclaimed. “If she gets her knickers in a knot over something, she’s apt to do that.”
“I’ll try to keep her in line,” I said. “But I’m not making any promises.”
“I understand, dear,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Liz can be stubborn.”
I raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. “As opposed to you?”
“I’m not stubborn,” she said, nud
ging her glasses up her nose with one finger. “I’m determined.”
I laughed. “So, what did they call you in first grade?”
“Charlotte,” she said. “Not Lottie. Not Charlie. Charlotte.” A sly smile crept across her face. “I was determined back then, too.”
I had just set the timer on TV so Elvis could watch Jeopardy! when Nick knocked on my door after work. “C’mon in,” I called. It was about a minute before six o’clock. I leaned down and scratched the top of the cat’s head. “You’re so spoiled,” I said to him.
He licked my hand and wrinkled his nose at me.
I went back out into the living room. Nick was standing just inside the front door. “I’m in,” he said.
“I just have to grab my jacket and I’m ready,” I said.
He was holding his phone and he glanced down at it. “Are you waiting for a better offer?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. I was hoping I’d hear from Liam. I sent him a text to see what his plans were and if he could maybe join us after all.”
I grabbed my red plaid jacket from the closet. “He’s probably working late.” I picked up my keys and bag from the chair by the door. “I’m leaving,” I called to Elvis.
“Why do you do that?” Nick said with a laugh. “You’re talking to a cat. He doesn’t know what you’re saying.”
I held up one hand. “Wait for it.”
The answering meow came from the direction of the bedroom. The cat had impeccable timing.
I gave Nick a smirk and went out into the hallway. “That doesn’t prove anything,” he said as he followed me out.
“Yes, it does,” I said as I locked the door. “It proves that my cat is smarter than you—”
“Careful,” he warned, his dark eyes gleaming. “You don’t exactly have a lot of options for dinner at the moment.”
“—might expect,” I finished.
Nick laughed. “Good save!”
His SUV was parked at the curb. “Is it okay if we drive?” he asked.
I nodded. “Sure. Are you on call?”
He shook his head. “No. But I may need to stop at the station later to talk to Michelle.”
“About the Quinn case?” I asked as I climbed in.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said. He shut my door and walked around the front of the vehicle.
“Sure you can,” I said when he opened the driver’s-side door. “You just don’t want to because you’re afraid whatever you say to me I’ll share with your mother and Rose.”
“And how is the investigation going for the state’s newest licensed private investigator and his merry band of senior citizens?” Nick countered.
“I can’t tell you that,” I said, deadpan.
He laughed and slid behind the wheel. “Truce?” he asked.
I nodded. “All right. No talking about your case.”
“Tell me about your cooking lessons,” Nick said as he pulled away from the curb.
“New rule,” I said. “No talking about your case or my cooking lessons.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Nick said, darting a quick look in my direction. “You must have learned something by now. When are you going to make dinner for me?”
I settled back against the seat with a smile. “When you lace up a pair of sneakers and come running with me.”
Nick didn’t run. He played hockey. He biked. He swam. I’d never seen him run. Jess claimed it was because he looked as if he were being attacked by a swarm of bees when he ran. For all I knew, she was right.
“New rule,” Nick said after a moment, his eyes fixed on the road. “No talking about my case, your cooking or anybody running.”
I laughed. “Deal,” I said.
I didn’t ask Nick where we were going for supper. I was sure we were headed for The Black Bear, so I wasn’t surprised when he turned onto the street by the waterfront.
“You’re not going to find a parking spot down here on a Friday night,” I said.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, almost as if Nick had some sort of magical powers, a car pulled away from the curb just two doorways from the pub. “Good, clean living,” he said, backing smoothly and expertly into the spot.
The pub was busy, no surprise, since it was a Friday night. Sam was talking to a server by the bar. He looked up and smiled when he caught sight of us, heading across the floor to meet us. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, wrapping me in a bear hug.
Sam was tall and wiry with salt-and-pepper hair and a close-cropped beard. He’d been my father’s best friend and even though I’d eventually gained a wonderful dad in my stepfather, Sam had played a fatherly role in my life, too. He was always ready to listen and he never said, “I told you so,” no matter how badly I messed up.
He pulled out of the hug and offered his hand to Nick. “We missed you last night,” he said.
“I missed being here,” Nick said. I noticed that he didn’t offer an explanation for where he’d been.
“Liam didn’t say you were meeting him,” Sam said, looking toward the back corner of the restaurant.
“Liam’s here?” I said.
Sam looked a little surprised. “Yeah. They got here about five minutes ago.”
They. Nick looked at me. He’d caught the word as well. It probably meant my brother was using his considerable charm on some business associates.
I looked around Sam and caught sight of Liam in one of the back booths. He was leaning forward, one arm propped on the edge of the table, having an animated conversation with someone I couldn’t see seated opposite him. I knew that body language. He was definitely charming someone, probably a woman.
“We’re just going to say hi,” I said to Sam.
“Sure,” he said, giving me a look that could best be described as amused.
Nick and I started across the restaurant. I gestured toward Liam, who was so focused on his companion that he hadn’t noticed us yet. She—because I knew it had to be a woman he was with—must have said something funny, because Liam was laughing.
I looked up at Nick over my shoulder. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you?” I said.
He grinned back at me. “Of course I know what he’s doing. Who do you think taught him how to do it?”
I laughed. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a snappy comeback.”
One eyebrow went up. “In other words, I’ve left you speechless.”
I poked him gently in the ribs with my elbow.
Just as we got to the table Liam finally looked up and noticed us. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he said, getting to his feet and sliding out of the booth. He wrapped Nick in an enormous bear hug, clapping him on the back the way guys did. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“You, too,” Nick said.
Liam turned to me.
“We just came for supper,” I said. “I called you. Twice.”
He shook his head and put a hand to his pocket. “I’m sorry. I turned my phone off when my meeting started and then I forgot to turn it back on.”
“How long are you going to be here?” Nick asked.
Liam smiled and pulled a hand over his neck. “Looks like a couple of weeks.”
“That’s great,” Nick said. “We’re still playing shinny and I could probably scare up a pair of skates for you.”
My brother grimaced. “I haven’t been on skates since last winter. It would probably be pretty ugly.”
“You pretty much just described the entire team,” Nick said with a shrug.
“You’re in the middle of something,” I said, smiling at Liam. “We’re going to get a table. I’ll see you later, right?”
“He’s not in the middle of anything,” a voice said behind me.
I turned slowly around to see Jess, leaning out of the booth.
“W
hat are you doing here?” I said. Liam was having dinner with Jess? She hadn’t mentioned it early when she stopped by the shop to look at the wooden church pew. Liam was turning the charm on Jess? They’d known each other since she and I became roommates in college. As Avery sometimes said, What the frack?
“In about thirty seconds, eating mac and cheese,” she said, leaning sideways and pointing in the direction of a waiter approaching carrying an oversize-serving tray on each arm.
“We’ll let you get to it,” Nick said, taking my arm. He looked at Liam. “Give me a call when you have a minute.”
“Absolutely,” Liam said. He put an arm around my shoulders for a moment and kissed the side of my head. “I’ll probably see you at the house later.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jess said to me, turning to give the waiter her own megawatt smile.
Nick looked around, spotted Sam and pointed questioningly at a table near the middle of the room. Sam nodded and Nick led me toward it.
I took off my jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, using the opportunity to look back at Liam and Jess. “Is she feeding him?” I asked.
Nick picked up my chair and moved it around the table so my back would be toward their booth. “We don’t care,” he said, enunciating each word carefully.
I made a face at him and sat down, taking the menu a waiter had just brought over.
“Thank you,” Nick said to the young man. “We’re going to need a few minutes.”
“I don’t care that Liam is having dinner with Jess,” I said. “It’s just that he’s not her type and she’s not his.”
Nick pulled out his chair, sat down and opened the menu the waiter had left at his plate. “The clams and chips look good,” he said.
“I’m serious,” I said. “They can’t be on a date, can they?”
He shook his head. “Who are you, Sarah? The person who writes the couple-matching algorithms for Match-dot-com? Leave it alone.”
“Fine,” I said. I bent my head over my menu and watched him under my lashes. As soon as he dropped his own head, I turned to look over at Jess and Liam again.
A crumpled paper napkin struck me on my right temple. I turned back to Nick. “Hey! What was that for?”