I nodded.
“I take it she asked you to wait.”
“She did,” I said, suddenly feeling more than a little uncomfortable. This was the third time I’d found myself connected to a case Nick and Michelle were investigating.
“Okay, so you and Mac found the body,” Nick said.
“Strictly speaking, Elvis found the body.”
He raised an eyebrow and didn’t completely manage to keep a smile back. “I’m going to need to ask him some questions.”
“I’ll tell him not to leave town.”
Nick did smile then. “I should get to work,” he said. “I’ll need to talk to both you and Mac later, though. You’ll both be at the shop?”
I nodded, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “We can’t do anything here. As soon as Michelle says we can leave, we’ll head back. I’m going to have to call Stella at some point. This is going to move our timeline back.”
Nick looked over his shoulder at the house again. “I’m guessing she and Ethan want to get the house on the market as soon as they can.”
I knew that Nick and Ethan Hall—Edison Hall’s son—had played hockey together in high school. I wasn’t sure whether they’d reconnected when Nick moved back to North Harbor.
“I think it’s been a bit overwhelming for Ethan,” I said.
“The old man was never one to throw anything away,” Nick said. “I was in the garage a few times back when Ethan and I were in school. You couldn’t fit a car in it—that’s for sure.” He gave his head a slight shake at whatever memory had just slipped into his mind. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.” He started for the front door, raising a hand in hello to Mac as he cut across the lawn.
I walked up the driveway to rejoin Mac. He was standing by the front fender of the SUV. “Nick will have some questions later,” I said.
“I thought he would,” Mac said. He inclined his head in the direction of the car and lowered his voice. “You know Rose is going to see this as a case they can investigate.”
I sighed. “I know.”
They included Rose, Alfred Peterson, Charlotte and Liz French, another of my grandmother’s closest friends. They called themselves Charlotte’s Angels, a play on the movie and the television show Charlie’s Angels. Since Rose, at least, saw them as the three detectives—she’d dubbed herself Farrah Fawcett because she had the best hair—that meant Alfred was Bosley. And since they’d set up their detective office in my sunporch, where they used my Wi-Fi and drank my tea, by default I was Charlie. When I pointed out to Rose that, since they were Charlotte’s Angels, Charlotte should be Charlie, Rose had just smiled sweetly at me and said, “She’s Kate Jackson, dear. She can’t be Charlie, and you own the building.”
I didn’t even try to argue with her logic.
The Angels had been involved in two of Nick’s cases since he’d taken the medical examiner’s job. He’d explained how dangerous it could be for them to be mixed up in a criminal investigation. He’d pointed out that they weren’t detectives, that they had no training in law enforcement. He’d even threatened to have Michelle arrest them all. They’d pretty much ignored him.
“You didn’t tell Nick that Rose is here,” Mac said, narrowing his dark eyes as he studied my face. The corners of his mouth twitched.
“He didn’t ask,” I said. “And do you want the two of them to get into it yet again over the Angels getting involved in this case?”
Mac gave up trying to stifle the smile. “So, who were you trying to protect? Him or her?”
I leaned sideways and gave him a long, appraising look. “Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “Nick’s built like a hockey enforcer. He works in law enforcement. She’s barely five feet high in her sensible walking shoes and she’s blind as a bat without her bifocals.”
Mac looked at me, unblinkingly, the way Elvis did sometimes. “Her, then,” he said.
“Obviously.” I rubbed my left shoulder with my other hand, trying to work out a knot that had settled in when Mac reminded me that Rose was going to look at this dead body as an invitation for the Angels to investigate. “I should talk to her before she gets any ideas.”
Something caught Mac’s eye and he looked past me. “Sarah,” he said, a note of caution suddenly in his voice.
I turned to see what he was looking at.
A small silver car had just parked at the curb. I could see Ethan Hall behind the wheel. “What’s he doing here?” I said.
Mac touched my arm. “I’ll go.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ll do it.”
He inclined his head in the direction of the SUV. “Talk to Rose,” he said. “I’ve got this.” He started for the street before I could argue the point anymore.
I walked around the side of the SUV, opened the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel, turning to face Rose and Elvis. The cat straightened up and licked his whiskers. I knew it was pointless to ask Rose what she’d been feeding him.
“Can we leave now?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “Michelle and Nick are taking a look around inside. But it shouldn’t be much longer.”
She leaned sideways to look past me. “Is that Ethan Mac’s talking to?”
“Uh-huh.” I turned back around and flipped down the sun visor.
The cat craned his neck as though he were trying to see what Rose was looking at. She patted her lap and her climbed up on her knee. “What’s he doing here? Did you call him?”
“He probably came to see if he could get a better idea of how long it’s going to take us to clear everything out.” I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail and raked my fingers through my hair. Then I looked at her in the mirror. “This is not a case, Rose,” I said.
She reached forward and patted my arm. “Has Nicolas gotten his knickers in a knot, dear?” she asked.
“No. I didn’t tell him you were here.” I didn’t add that I didn’t see the point in the two of them having the same argument they’d already had at least half a dozen times. Nick was dead set against his mother—and Rose and Liz, whom he thought of as family—investigating crimes. Rose was just as fixed in her opinion that it was none of his business.
I understood why Nick worried, but I could also see Rose’s point of view—which meant a couple of times they’d been arguing I’d managed to get on the wrong side of both of them.
She smiled. “Thank you, Sarah. That was probably for the best.” She smoothed her white curls with the hand that wasn’t stroking Elvis’s fur. “He’s such a worrywart. I’d say he’s such an old woman about things, but really, none of us are anywhere near that bad.”
Elvis gave a soft murp of agreement.
“I think in this case, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Rose continued. “Thank you for having our back, sweet girl.”
Both she and Elvis were smiling at me and I wasn’t exactly sure how we’d gotten from me warning Rose to stay out of this investigation, to me having her back.
Mac and Ethan Hall had started up the driveway. “I should go talk to Ethan,” I said.
“Of course,” Rose said. “Elvis and I will stay here.”
I saw the cat’s green eyes dart over to Rose’s bag. I was pretty sure I knew how Elvis, at least, would be passing the time.
I got out of the car and met Mac and Ethan in the middle of the driveway. Ethan Hall was easily six feet tall with deep blue eyes that seemed to lock on to your face when he spoke to you, and blond hair in a modified brush cut. He looked over at the house. “Sarah. Do you know what’s going on?” he asked.
“The police are inside,” I said. “Detective Andrews should be out in a minute.”
His mouth twisted to one side. “How could someone have gotten into the house?”
I didn’t think he was looking for an answer. His gaze came back to me again. “You didn’t recognize the . . . you don’t know who it is, do you?”