A Whisker of Trouble

by Sofie Ryan

  I nodded. “I know, that’s what worries me. We’re due for something a little over-the-top.”

  We were all in our places by quarter after four. Liz and Charlotte at one table, Mac and Rose at another and Michelle and I at a third. Michelle also had an officer in the kitchen and another working behind the counter with Glenn. Plus, ex–football player Glenn was, by himself, perfectly capable of popping your head off like the cap off a soda bottle.

  Michelle propped her elbows on the table and bent her head over her coffee. “See the car diagonally across the street?” she asked. “I think that’s them. The woman is using the last name Flaherty.”

  I pulled a hand back through my hair and looked out the front window of the sandwich shop. There was a silver Lexus parked on the street and I could see Leila in the passenger seat. “It is,” I said. “I recognize the woman who’s working with him.”

  Mr. P. was on his way up the sidewalk. He was wired again, this time just for sound with a tiny police-issue microphone attached under the edge of his sweater vest. He came inside, smiled at us all and sat at a table in the corner to the left of the door. Glenn took him a cup of coffee.

  Michelle looked around. “We got lucky,” she said. “This place could have been filled with people.”

  “That’s why Mr. P. decided on this time of day,” I said, picking up my cup and setting it down again. Across the street Leila got out of the passenger side of the Lexus.

  “They’re on the move,” I said softly to Michelle.

  She in turn looked over at Mr. P. and nodded.

  Leila and Thorne Logan stepped into the sandwich shop. I noticed that she was carrying the Burberry purse. She looked around. At his table Mr. P. stood up. “Hello, Leila,” I heard him say.

  “Hello, Harold,” she replied. “I’d like you to meet Thornton Logan.”

  The two men shook hands and they all sat down.

  “I like your hair like that,” Michelle said.

  For a moment I looked blankly at her, and then I remembered we were supposed to be having a conversation. “I’ve been thinking about shaving my head. What do you think?” It was the first thing that popped into my mind. I was not good at this, I realized.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

  I wasn’t sure if she was serious with her question or if it was just part of making conversation.

  “I’m thinking of training for a marathon,” I said. “It would just be easier, you know, showering so much.”

  “Well, you could have some kind of design cut into the stubble,” Michelle offered with just a hint of a smile. Now I knew she wasn’t serious.

  The officer working with Glenn approached the table. Both Logan and Leila ordered coffee.

  The door to the little shop opened and Avery walked in. My breath caught in my chest. I should have known she had agreed far too easily to being left out.

  “What is she doing here?” Michelle asked, her voice low.

  “I can get her out,” I said. I started to get to my feet.

  Michelle caught my arm. “Sit,” she said. “I don’t want to do anything to draw their attention.” She tipped her head, ever so slightly, in the direction of Mr. P.’s table.

  Liz was shooting daggers in her granddaughter’s direction.

  Avery ignored the look. “Hi, Gram,” she said, walking over to the table. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Michelle caught Liz’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. It looked to me as though Liz nodded in return, but I couldn’t be sure. She got up and headed to the counter, motioning at Avery to take her seat. That put Avery closer to the kitchen with the wall behind her.

  I had to swallow hard to get the lump in my throat to go down. Why had I agreed to this? It had to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

  Michelle squeezed my arm. “Breathe,” she whispered.

  I took a deep breath and then another. Panicking wasn’t going to do me any good. These people were my family and I would protect them with my life if it came to that. I was really hoping it wouldn’t.

  Michelle and I talked about hair and running for the next few minutes. Avery bought a cinnamon roll. Liz and Charlotte seemed to be making a grocery list and from what little I could hear of Mac and Rose’s conversation, she was asking questions about his love life. I sent him a smile of sympathy when he looked my way. Finally the officer turned counterperson came over to the table with the coffeepot. It was the agreed-upon signal for Michelle to make her move.

  “We’re good,” he said almost under his breath to her.

  She looked across the table at me. “Everyone stays out of the way,” she said.

  I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t have to dramatically fling myself in front of anyone or take Rose down with a running tackle.

  Michelle got up and moved toward Mr. P.’s table in one quick, smooth move. She stopped by Thorne Logan’s chair, the officer positioning himself closer to Mr. P., effectively shielding him from the others.

  “Hello, Mr. Logan,” Michelle said. She flashed her badge. “I’m Detective Andrews. Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  “I’m sorry, Detective,” Logan said, smoothly confident. “As you can see, I’m in the middle of something. Perhaps another time.”

  A flash of uncertainty passed across Leila’s face.

  Michelle smiled. I’d seen that smile before. It did not mean good things were going to happen. “Mr. Logan, please stand up,” she said.

  He gave a sigh of annoyance. “Look, I know I have a couple of parking tickets that I should have paid.” He held up both hands and gave her his best approximation of a boyish smile. It was pretty good. “I plead guilty to having a lead foot and I promise I’ll come by the station and pay them as soon as I’m done here.”

  I wasn’t sure his charm would have worked on anyone, but it definitely didn’t work on Michelle.

  “Get up, please,” she repeated, and when he didn’t she nodded to the officer beside her.

  “Stand up, sir,” the young officer said, helping Logan to his feet. Michelle explained why he was being arrested while the handcuffs were snapped into place.

  While all the focus was on Thorne Logan, Leila had started to back toward the door. I noticed she wasn’t at the table and turned to see Mac block her way. “Excuse me,” she said, trying to go around him.

  He stepped in front of her again. “I think the police officer over there with your friend would like to talk to you,” he said.

  Michelle walked over to them. “I need you to come down to the station with me, Mrs. Flaherty,” she said.

  Leila pressed her lips together and glowered at Michelle. “You’re dumb as a stump,” she hissed as Thorne Logan passed her being led out the door.

  “Stop talking, Mother,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Michelle raised her eyebrows at me as she passed me.

  “That was so cool!” Avery said, bouncing up from her seat as soon as the door closed.

  “And you are so grounded,” Liz said matter-of-factly. “Two weeks.”

  “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t come!” Avery scowled like a petulant child. “You just said this was no place for me.”

  “Three weeks,” Liz said. “Want to try for four?”

  “That’s not fair,” Avery whined.

  I put a hand on her shoulder and swung her around to face me. “Avery, you scared the crap out of your grandmother,” I said.

  She started to argue, but I cut her off. “You scared your grandmother. You scared Rose and Charlotte and Mr. P. and Mac.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. I could feel my hands shaking. “You scared me. And you know better.” I kept my gaze locked on her face.

  After a moment her lower lip began to tremble. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice raspy w
ith emotion.

  “We all love you,” I said. “So you can’t just do whatever you feel like doing, because if something hurts you, all of us are hurt, too.”

  She swallowed again. “Okay,” she said in a small voice. Then she turned around to face Liz. “I’m sorry, Nonna,” she said.

  Liz wrapped her arms around her granddaughter and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, child,” she said.

  “I love you, too, Nonna,” Avery said.

  “You’re still grounded.”

  Avery nodded, her head still on Liz’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

  I felt the tension drain from my body. Mac appeared at my side. “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “So Leila is that young man’s mother,” Mr. P. said.

  “You were right about that,” I said, smiling at him.

  Liz had handed Avery off to Rose, who was cupping the teenager’s face with her hands as she talked to her. Liz came over to me and bumped me with her hip. “Remember what I said about that woman when we were in the car?” she asked me.

  I nodded. “I remember.”

  “I take it all back.”

  Glenn McNamara was at the counter. I caught his eye. “A refill on everything, please, Glenn,” I said. “And thank you for letting us stage this episode of Law and Disorder in here.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, reaching for the coffeepot. “I gotta say, though, it’s going to make Tuesday afternoons from now on feel pretty tame.”

  I didn’t hear from Michelle until after Jeopardy! was over. Elvis had just come out of the bedroom and jumped on my lap when my cell rang. I looked over at the screen. “It’s Michelle,” I said to him.

  “Merow,” he said, looking from me to the phone. Translation: Hurry up and answer.

  Rose was right. Thorne Logan and his mother had sold Edison Hall all those fake bottles of wine. “They were falling over themselves, each of them trying to put the blame on the other,” Michelle said. “That’s a screwed-up family.”

  But Thorne Logan wasn’t our killer. “He has an alibi, Sarah,” Michelle said. “When Ronan Quinn was killed, Mr. Logan and his mother were up in Bangor trying to scam another senior citizen in a crowded Dunkin’ Donuts with at least a dozen witnesses.”

  “Son of a horse,” I muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Michelle said.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Thank you for this.”

  “I owe you,” she said. “There are four other police departments in this part of the state alone who want to talk to Mr. Logan and his mother.”

  “I’m glad something came out of all this.”

  “We’re not done,” Michelle said. “We will find out who killed Ronan Quinn. We’re not even close to being done with this case.”

  I said good night and ended the call. “I should go tell Rose what’s going on,” I said to Elvis. “Want to come with me?”

  The cat put a paw up over his face, almost as though he were trying to tell me it was a conversation he didn’t want to be part of.

  Mr. P. answered the door when I knocked. He was wearing a pair of blue knitted slippers and one of Rose’s flowered aprons and holding a dish towel. “Hello, Sarah,” he said. He studied my face for a moment. “You’re not bringing good news, are you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sarah dear, come in,” Rose called.

  I stepped into the kitchen. She took one look at my face, closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  “Rosie, where are you going,” a clearly bewildered Mr. P. asked.

  Rose had already disappeared, headed I was guessing for the bedroom. In a moment I heard the door close.

  Baffled, Mr. P. looked at me. “Is she all right?”

  I nodded. “She just went into the bedroom to swear because she didn’t want to do it in front of me.”

  “Well, then,” he said. “Would you like a piece of pie? It’s lemon meringue.”

  “It could only help,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Mr. P. got a slice of pie for both of us and we were at the kitchen table with it when Rose came back. She joined us at the table. I told them what Michelle had told me.

  “Well, at least those terrible people won’t be taking advantage of anyone else,” he said.

  Rose had a look of grim determination on her face. “Tomorrow we’ll start at the beginning again. And we’ll find out who killed Mr. Quinn.”

  “Absolutely,” Mr. P. said, smiling at her.

  I speared another bite of pie. It was delicious. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. I just had no clue what that something was.

  Chapter 18

  The Angels gathered in their office before the store opened the next morning.

  “Since Mr. Logan and his mother have alibis for the time of Mr. Quinn’s death, we’re back to square one,” Mr. P. said.

  “So, what do we do?” Liz asked, tapping one pale pink nail on the arm of her chair.

  “We concentrate on Mr. Quinn. We take the last week of his life apart, day by day, hour by hour.” He looked at me. “Do you think the lawyer you spoke to would answer a few more questions?’

  “Put them together and I’ll call her,” I said.

  I was out working on the metal cabinet a couple of hours later when Mac came to the back door. “Sarah, phone,” he called.

  I set down my scraper, brushed my hands on my jeans and sprinted across the parking lot. “Do you know who it is?” I asked as I headed for the phone at the cash desk.

  “She said her name was Skye,” Mac said.

  I smiled. Skye Reynolds was the promotions director for Tanner Media, who owned that radio station I used to work for. It was Skye I’d called to see if she could come up with some way to help Ellie Hall.

  “Hey, Sarah,” Skye said. “I just wanted to check in with you. Look, are you sure those people you called me about actually want help?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Why?”

  “We have a showcase coming up next month. Half a dozen up-and-coming bands. You know how it works.”

  I did.

  “I called the husband’s office and talked to his teaching assistant. I was thinking we could turn it into a fund-raiser.”

  I could hear her tapping the end of her pen on her desk. “So, what’s wrong with the idea?” I remembered Ellie saying they didn’t want to take charity. Was Ethan so proud that he’d turn down a fund-raiser on Ellie’s behalf?

  “The husband’s going to be away on that weekend,” Skye said. It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in her voice.

  “What do you mean, away?” I asked.

  “Hawaii.”

  “That’s got to be a mistake.”

  “It’s not,” she said. “Look, Sarah, I’m happy to help. You know these kinds of stories are great for us. Listeners eat this stuff up. But if this guy’s wife needs surgery, what the heck’s he doing going to Hawaii?”

  I didn’t have an answer. I told Skye I’d find out what was going on, thanked her for what she’d done so far and hung up.

  “Something wrong?” Mac asked.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m not sure.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But thanks.”

  I went back out to my metal cabinet. I’d taken off about half the old finish. I walked around the piece, seeing in my mind the way it would look when I was finished. Avery, I’d discovered, could do the same thing.

  I’d let her work on a small side table I’d trash-picked. After sanding and priming, she’d painted it white. The front of the single drawer got two coats of lime green. She also taped off the tips of the tapered legs and painted them the same green. The sides she Mod-Podged with a bold lime
-and-cobalt geometric design paper.

  “I like it,” I’d said when she took me out to the old garage to show me her work. “How did you decide on the design?”

  “I don’t know,” she’d said with a shrug. “It’s kind of like to me, it’s what was there—at least in my head—under all the crap.”

  I wondered if the answer to Ronan Quinn’s death was under all the crap somewhere. Just then Nick’s SUV pulled in to the parking lot. Charlotte waved at me from the passenger seat. I walked over to them.

  “Hi,” I said. “You’re early.”

  “I brought Nicolas over to show him that wrought-iron bed frame,” she said. “Is it still in the workroom?”

  I nodded. “It’s wrapped in a couple of old blankets against the end wall. Mac will get it out for you.” I looked at Nick. “Does it have to be wrought iron? There’s a nice dark walnut headboard that might work for you. Either way I’ll give you the family discount.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I don’t really know what I want, mainly just something to get my mattress up off the floor.”

  “Are you bringing either of the bedroom sets from Edison Hall’s house down here?” Charlotte asked.

  I shook my head. “I’d like to try to sell them on-site if we can. We don’t really have the space to have everything set up here. But there is a spool bed. It needs a little work, though. A couple of the slats are cracked.”

  “Too small,” Charlotte said. “We need something for a double mattress.”

  “The wrought-iron one, then,” I said.

  “I’ll get Mac to get it out,” Charlotte said, heading for the door.

  “Do I get a vote?” Nick said to me.

  “Probably not,” I said with a grin.

  He smiled back at me. “Michelle told me about your little adventure yesterday. It sounds like Alfred missed his calling.”

  “Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. I told him about Liam playing the part of Mr. P.’s son.

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t know whether to laugh or tell you you’ve lost your mind.”

  “The first one, definitely,” I said.