by Sofie Ryan
I started looking for somewhere to park. Jess was doing the same thing. “Up there,” she suddenly said, pointing to the corner. “Someone just pulled out.”
We snagged the parking spot before anyone else did and then started down the sidewalk to the theater. “Jess, remember when that reality show was being filmed over the summer?”
“I do,” she said. “A couple of those people are in town, you know.”
I nodded. “Rose and I saw one of the producers at the pet expo.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, wishing I’d remembered to bring my gloves.
“Probably the same guy I saw outside Sam’s a couple of days ago.”
“Was he by himself?” I asked.
Jess shook her head. “No. Well, he might have been, but he was talking to a woman when I saw him.”
“What did she look like?”
She frowned at me. “Why are you asking?”
“Can you just tell me without me answering that question?” I said.
She eyed me for a moment before the frown was replaced with a smile. “All right,” she said. “The woman was probably in her forties. Very fashionable. She was wearing a fitted black wool jacket, sort of punk-looking with some leather and metal details. She had to be at least six feet tall, plus the boots she was wearing gave her three or four more inches, and she had the kind of perfect posture that dancers always seem to have. Does that help?”
Jess had just described Chloe Hartman. Why had she been talking to that reality show producer?
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. “Thank you for not pushing. I owe you.”
She looped her arm through mine as we joined the crowd heading toward the door of the theater. “I know,” she said. “I like it when people owe me.”
* * *
* * *
The concert was fantastic and we came out of the theater buzzing with energy. “How can they make so much incredible music with just garbage cans, brooms and a few wooden poles?” I said.
“I have no idea,” Jess said, “but it’s going to change how I look at garbage day from now on!”
I was too energized to sleep when I got home, so I surfed around until I found one of my favorite movies on TV and I curled up on the sofa with Elvis and some popcorn. We were about twenty minutes into the movie when I got a text from Nick.
You up?
I’m watching The Goodbye Gurl. Rats! I mean Girl.
I counted to four. My phone rang. “Hi,” I said. “Tell me you’re not still working.”
“I was, but I’m home now.”
“What’s up?”
“I talked to Michelle and to Tom Manning.” He let out a breath. “I jumped to a conclusion about the way the fire started and I’m sorry.”
I picked up the remote and muted the sound on the TV. “I appreciate the apology. And as Mr. P. would say, I’ve had a burr under my saddle about the fire. I’ve been pushing hard because I liked Christine. So we both haven’t been at our best.”
“Thanks,” he said. I heard him yawn.
“May I say something?” I asked.
“If I say no, will that stop you?”
“It won’t.”
“Go ahead then.”
I sat up a little straighter, which got me a glare from Elvis. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but you work way too much and you have no personal life.”
“Oh c’mon,” Nick said. “I’m not that bad.” I could hear doors opening and closing, which told me he was in his kitchen looking for something to eat.
“How many paramedic shifts have you taken in the last month?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to look at the calendar.” He was hedging.
“And as for your personal life, when was the last time you did something fun?”
“I was at the jam on Thursday with you and Jess, so ha.” He sounded more than a little self-righteous.
“Besides that,” I said, “and ha back at you.”
“Oh c’mon, Sarah, I’m busy.” I heard the crinkle of a popcorn bag being opened.
I laughed. “And you just made my point. All you do is work, and you’re eating popcorn for supper.”
“Not that long ago all you did was work, and I know you’ve had popcorn for supper more than once.”
“Guilty as charged,” I said. “And it’s not a good way to live. You need someone in your life, Nick.”
He groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to join forces with Rose and my mother and play matchmaker.”
“I just might have to.” I reached for my own popcorn and discovered I’d eaten it all. How had that happened? When had that happened?
“I’m changing the subject,” Nick said. “Do the Angels have any leads on who started the fire?”
“Not really. No one seems to know of any enemies Christine might have had.” I sighed. “I know it’s an overused word, but she was a nice person.”
“From what Michelle said, no one had a motive to hurt the woman. Her classmates liked her. Her former students and colleagues liked her. She even stayed close to her late husband’s family.”
I stretched both arms over my head, which seemed to annoy Elvis. He jumped down and headed for the bedroom. “I know I’m the one who’s probably jumping to conclusions now, but I can’t shake the feeling Christine’s death is connected to the show.”
“Gut feeling or something else?” he asked.
“Both,” I said. I explained what Christine had said about the vandalism at the shows being personal. “I didn’t think any more about her words at the time and now I can’t stop thinking about them. And you don’t have to tell me that I sound like Rose, because I know I do.”
Nick cleared his throat. “If you tell Rose I said this I will egg your house, but her gut feelings often turn out to be right. So don’t dismiss your own. And you know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?”
I laughed. “Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Yes. And call me or Michelle if you or your . . . tribe come up with anything.”
“I will,” I said.
We said good night and I put the phone on the couch beside me. I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back against the cushions. A new thought was rolling around in my head.
If Christine was right and the vandalism at the shows wasn’t about the shows themselves, then what was it about?
Chapter 16
Rose was waiting in the hallway in the morning. She was wearing the scarf she’d gotten from Steven Tyler. Rose always claimed it was her good-luck charm.
“How were the crepes?” I asked.
“Delicious does not begin to describe them,” she said as we walked outside. “I had one with a fruit and cream cheese filling and another with chocolate and crushed hazelnuts.”
“They both sound good,” I said as I lifted Elvis onto the front seat of the SUV. He was starting to like being picked up.
“You could take Mac there. The atmosphere is very romantic.”
I laughed. “Is that why you took Mr. P. there?”
Rose gave me a sly smile. “It never hurts to stoke the flames a little.”
“Really sorry I asked that question,” I said. From the corner of my eye, I could see her grinning.
“So how was the concert?” she asked after a few moments’ silence.
I was grateful for the change of subject. “Loud and wild and wonderful. Jess said Mr. P. recommended the group.”
“He does have very wide-ranging tastes in music. Alfred is a Renaissance man.”
It seemed like an odd way to describe a little old man who wore his pants up under his armpits, but it was accurate.
Liz’s car pulled into the parking lot ahead of us.
“Oh good, she’s on time,” Rose said.
I looked over at her.
“You called a meeting.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now,” she said.
“And you’re going to do something you think I won’t be in favor of.”
Rose looked thoughtful for a moment, a small frown pulling her eyebrows together and her lips pursed. “Well, yes, there is that, too,” she said.
“So are you going to tell me what that something is?” I asked. I tried to sound stern, but the effect is lost on someone who once changed your diapers.
She nodded. “Of course. At the meeting.”
She was out of the SUV before I could say anything else. She moved fast.
I scooped up Elvis, who could not be expected to walk across the parking lot on his big day.
We all trooped inside. Mr. P. had walked. His cheeks were rosy from the cool morning air. Liz had brought Charlotte and Avery with her.
I could smell coffee as soon as we were in the workroom. Mac was coming toward us carrying a tray with cups and napkins.
“The tea and coffee are all made as per your instructions,” Mac said to Rose.
She beamed at him. “Thank you so much. It’s a busy day and we don’t have a lot of time.” She looked around at the rest of us. “Take a seat, everyone. The clock is ticking.”
We filed in and took our places around the table. I got myself a cup of coffee.
“Pour one of those for me, please,” Liz said.
I reached for a cup. Avery frowned at us. “You don’t need coffee, Nonna,” she said.
“I most decidedly do, child,” Liz replied. “I need something to get rid of that foul concoction you made me drink for breakfast.”
Avery was unfazed. She put her hands on her hips and smiled at her grandmother. “A green juice every morning will boost your immune system. It’s much healthier than a cup of coffee.” She glanced at me. “No offense, Sarah.”
“None taken,” I said, leaning around her to hand Liz her coffee.
Charlotte had taken off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Now she set a large rectangular tin on the table and took the top off. I could smell apples and cinnamon. “Applesauce muffins?” I asked.
Charlotte nodded.
I reached for one, thinking Rose was pulling out all the stops.
Once we all had tea or coffee and one—or two—of Charlotte’s muffins Rose got to her feet. “Are we waiting for Nick?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not this time.”
So Nick wouldn’t like what she had planned, either.
Rose looked around the table. “I’ve been thinking about what Christine said to Sarah the day we had lunch, about the vandalism at the shows—maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the cats, maybe it was more personal. Well, what could be more personal than having an affair?”
I suddenly had a feeling I knew what Rose wanted to do.
She explained briefly about what she’d learned from Junie. “I want to watch James Hanratty to see who he hooks up with. It’s Saturday night and I can’t believe he won’t be connecting with his paramour. He’ll be heading home tomorrow. So we’re going to watch the Rosemont Inn, where he’s staying, and see if he goes anywhere or if anyone comes to see him.”
“What do you mean by ‘watch him’?” I asked as I reached for the coffee.
“I mean exactly that. Watch where he goes, watch who comes to see him. Take photographs. That’s it. I think if we cover the time between six o’clock and midnight that should be enough.”
It struck me that if Nick were there his face would be red and he’d be sputtering objections.
Rose looked at me. “Sarah, you and Charlotte have the first shift from six until eight.”
“All right,” I said.
She waited for a moment as if she expected me to say something else, but I just took a sip of my coffee.
“Liz and I will take the second shift from eight until ten.”
Liz didn’t seem surprised, which told me Rose had already run this part past her.
“And me,” Avery said.
“No,” Liz said.
Avery turned to look at her grandmother. “Why not? There’s nothing dangerous about being in the car with you and Rose except for maybe how fast you drive.” She reminded me so much of Liz. She had the same challenge in her eyes, the same matter-of-fact tone to her voice.
One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose just a fraction. “You’re not helping your case,” Liz said.
“I can keep you both awake.”
“Still not helping,” Liz retorted.
Avery leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. It made me think of an old Western with the young upstart going toe-to-toe against the grizzled veteran. “I have an iPhone with night mode that will let me take photos in the dark.”
Liz picked up her coffee cup. “No green drink and no speeches about how people with pets live longer.”
“Fine,” Avery said.
Round one to the upstart.
“And Alfred and Mac will take the last shift from ten until midnight,” Rose said. Mac looked surprised. Mr. P. didn’t.
“What if Mr. Hanratty leaves the inn?” Charlotte asked.
“Follow him,” Rose said. “This isn’t downtown Boston. It shouldn’t be a problem doing that without being seen. However, I suspect he’ll stay in.”
It occurred to me then that I hadn’t told Rose—or anyone else—about what Jess told me about seeing the producer with whom I was certain was Chloe Hartman. I was about to say something when my phone buzzed. I checked the screen. It was Dad.
I excused myself and went out into the workroom. “Hi, Dad, that was fast,” I said.
“I realized that my former student was in California so I called last night,” he said. “You were right. The producers of the treasure hunt show are pitching a project based on the cat show circuit. Now whether a pilot will get made is still up in the air.”
“What about the Lilleys?”
“They’re attached to the project as consultants at the moment, along with a woman named Chloe Hartman.”
I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Does this help at all?” Dad asked.
“It helps a lot,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
I put my phone in my pocket again and went back into the Angels’ office. Rose and Mr. P. were standing by his desk. Charlotte was talking to Avery and Mac and Liz were deep in conversation about who knew what.
“That was Dad,” I said to Rose.
“And?” Mr. P. prompted.
“And Suzanne and Paul Lilley are connected with the cat show project as consultants.”
“It doesn’t make the case for either of them having anything to do with the sabotage or the fire,” Mr. P. said. “If the cat shows are cancelled, there’s no reality show.”
Rose nodded. “I agree.”
“So do I,” I said. “I’m not sure they were ever really viable suspects, anyway.”
“Maybe we’ll learn something tonight,” she said.
“There is one more interesting piece of information I learned from Dad.”
“What is it?” Mr. P. asked, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
“Suzanne and Paul aren’t the only consultants attached to this project.”
Rose was already smiling. She’d made the connection.
“So is Chloe Hartman.”
Mr. P. made a face. “I should have guessed that one.”
“You did,” I said to Rose. “How?”
“Chloe is a self-made woman. Her father died when she was barely a toddler, leaving her mother with seven children and no family to help her.”
I shook my head. “That’s awful.”
I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. I needed to go for a run. A long one. “I hope we do find out something tonight.”
“You can be at the Rosemont by six o’clock?” Rose asked.
“I can,” I said. “I’ll get Charlotte to bring her camera. She’s better at taking pictures than I am.”
Rose patted my arm. “Thank you, dear,” she said.
“I take it we’re not sharing this little side project with Nick?”
“I would never ask you to lie to Nicolas.” She gave me a smile.
“But I don’t have to bring the subject up, either.”
The smile got wider. “Exactly.”
I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She smelled like lavender. “Leave in about forty-five minutes?” I asked.
Mr. P. nodded. “That will be fine, Sarah,” he said. “Thank you.”
I walked over to join Charlotte and Avery. “Want me to go open up?” Avery asked.
“Please,” I said.
She grabbed the last muffin and headed for the front.
“So we’re Cagney and Lacey tonight?” Charlotte said with a smile. She had introduced me to the ’80s TV show. I’d binged on all seven seasons the previous winter.
“It seems we are,” I said. “Could you bring your camera, please? You’re just better in general at taking photos than I am.”
Charlotte nodded. “Of course I can.”
I put my arms around her shoulders. “Will this stakeout involve cookies?” I told myself if I was going for a long run then I could have a cookie or two tonight.
“You do know that we’re just going to sit in your SUV for two hours, don’t you?” she asked. “Rose has taken the middle shift because she thinks that’s when the action will be.”
“All the more reason for cookies,” I said, tilting my head to one side and batting my eyelashes at her like I was Elvis trying to wheedle a bit of bacon.
Charlotte laughed. “Child, you are single-minded. How about this? You’re probably not going to have time for supper. I’ll bring sandwiches and a cookie for dessert.”