“Channing Caulfield,” Rose said. “The former manager of the North Harbor Trust Company.”
Chapter 7
Mr. P. took his cell phone out of his pocket. After a moment he nodded at the screen and held out the phone to me so I could see the photo he’d found. “That’s Channing Caulfield,” he said.
Rose leaned over for a look and nodded.
The photo was of a man in his late sixties or early seventies. It looked like the kind of picture businesses take of their senior staff—a head-and-shoulders shot of a smiling man posed in front of a blue-gray background. The resemblance between the photo and Avery’s drawing was strong.
I took the phone from Mr. P. and showed the picture to Teresa. “That’s him,” she said.
“After you got in your van, what did you do?” Rose asked. Elvis had wandered in. He jumped onto the bench and walked down to us, stopping next to Teresa.
“I went home,” she said, reaching out to pet the cat.
Mr. P. put a hand on Rose’s arm. “Which way did you go?”
“I went back down Beech Hill Road. It’s faster.” Elvis was purring, looking at Teresa with a blissful expression on his face as she stroked his fur.
“Where was the man going?” Mr. P. asked.
Teresa gave another shrug. “He wasn’t going anywhere,” she said. “He was standing behind that big maple tree next to the curb, looking at old man Hall’s house.”
Teresa couldn’t really tell us much more. I walked her to the door and thanked her for stopping in. I told her again that I’d do everything I could to get the sign Edison had cheated her out of.
Avery had gone back to polishing the silver teapot. I smiled at her and held out my hand. We fist-bumped and she smiled back at me. “I didn’t know you could draw like that,” I said.
“I haven’t had any lessons or anything like that,” she said. Her eyes darted over to Elvis for a moment. Rose was talking to him and he seemed to be listening intently to every word. “I have some I did of Elvis if you’d like to see them sometime.”
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
As if he’d somehow known we were talking about him, the cat came walking down the workbench. He nudged Avery’s arm with his head and meowed softly.
Rose joined us. She put an arm around Avery’s shoulders. “That was a marvelous drawing. Thank you,” she said.
The teen’s cheeks flushed with color. “It was easy,” she said. “Teresa was really good at remembering details.”
“And you were really good at turning it into a drawing,” Rose countered. “We wouldn’t have figured out who it was without you.”
“Mrrr,” Elvis said.
Rose nodded at the cat. “Everyone agrees.” She looked at Avery. “I think you deserve a treat for all your hard work. There are cookies in the staff room.”
“Merow!” Elvis said with great enthusiasm. He jumped down to the floor and started for the door.
Rose smiled. “You can get Elvis a treat, too.”
“There’s a bag of those fish crackers he likes in the cupboard over the refrigerator,” I said.
Avery slid off her stool and started after the cat. “Okay,” she said over her shoulder.
Mr. P. was just ending a conversation on his cell phone. “She’s on her way,” he said to Rose.
“Who’s on her way?” I asked.
“Elizabeth,” he said.
I remembered what Avery had said about the retired bank manager. “You’re going to get her to talk to Channing Caulfield,” I said.
Alfred nodded. “One needs to use all the tools in one’s toolbox,” he said sweetly.
I shook my head and smiled at him. “Of course.”
Rose leaned against me as the three of us walked toward the sunporch. “Teresa didn’t have anything to do with what happened to that man,” she said.
I squeezed her arm. “I know.”
She looked up at me and smiled back. “You saw Elvis.”
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.”