“Of course we’ll help you,” Rose said. She put her arm around Stella’s shoulders. “Come back to the office. I have a little paperwork for you.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “You don’t mind if I take my break now, do you, Sarah?”
“Um, no,” I said, because what else was I going to say? I gave her what I hoped was a supportive or at least positive smile and they started for the sunporch.
Liz took a couple of steps closer to me, leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, toots,” she said. Then she followed Rose and Stella.
Mac had come from somewhere, probably the garage, based on the bits of dirt and dried leaves on one leg of his jeans. He’d made himself busy by the cash desk, but I knew he’d heard most, if not all, of the conversation. He smiled at me as he crossed the floor of the store. I waited for him to say something, but all he did was pick up two of the three boxes I’d stacked at the bottom of the stairs.
I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. There were no answers up there. I looked at Mac, rubbing one temple because it suddenly felt as if the Seven Dwarfs had started mining the left side of my head. “You said this would all work out,” I said to Mac, glaring at him because he had told me that, and because there was no one else to make a cranky face at. “You said they wouldn’t have a client.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I thought you said you were going to stay out of the Angels’ business, anyway.”
I pushed a stray piece of hair off my face. “I was . . . I mean I am.” I sighed. “It’s pretty hard to stay out of what they’re doing when their office is in my sunporch and when I end up driving them everywhere because the state of Maine—very wisely—no longer allows Rose to drive.”
“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” Mac said. He raised a finger before I could ask him what color the sky was in his world. “Between the three of them—Rose, Liz and Charlotte—they know pretty much everyone in town, and more important, they know everyone over the age of sixty-five. Who do you think those people are more likely to talk to? The Dynamic Trio or the police?”
He was right, but I wasn’t quite ready to concede the point. “You’re forgetting that all those little old ladies would just love talking to Nick. He does that boy-next-door thing that they all like.”
Mac laughed. “All they’re going to do is feed him cookies and try to set him up with their granddaughters.”
“Feed who cookies?” a voice said behind us. Nick was standing just inside the front door.
“Horse pucks,” I muttered under my breath. Why did he have to show up now? It seemed as though the confrontation I’d been trying to circumvent between Nick and Rose was going to happen no matter what I did. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“My mother sent you a meat loaf,” he said. “I’m not exactly sure why. She just asked me to drop it by.” For the first time I noticed the vintage harvest gold casserole dish he was holding.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Let’s just say my last cooking lesson didn’t go so well and leave it at that.”
“Got it,” he said, handing me the Pyrex dish. “So, who are you feeding cookies to?”
Mac put down the boxes he was holding. “He knows, Sarah,” he said.
“I know what?” Nick asked.
He did a pretty good poker face, but as I studied him I realized Mac was right: Nick did know that the Angels had a case.
I sighed. “Seriously, Nick?” I said. “You really think you’re going to come over here and convince Rose and Liz to stay out of your investigation?” I knew that he cared about all of them, not just his mother, but going caveman wasn’t going to get them to go back to having bake sales to buy books for the library.
“They have no business getting involved.”
I glanced at Mac, whose expression gave away nothing about what he was thinking.
“They don’t think so,” I said, struggling to keep the frustration that was tightening in my chest out of my voice. “How many times now have you had this conversation with them? Give it up.” I was aware of the irony of me defending the Angels taking on a new case when it was actually the last thing I wanted them to do.
“This is the last time,” Nick said, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender.
I looked at Mac again and held out the dish of meat loaf. “Would you put this in the fridge for me?”
He set the boxes down again and took the container from me. “Sure,” he said. He looked from me to Nick. “Yell if you need reinforcements.” Then he turned and headed up the steps.
“Let’s go,” I said to Nick. “Rose and Liz are in their office. If Stella is still with them, can you at least wait until she’s gone before you pounce?”
“I’m not going to pounce,” he said, with just a touch of indignation in his voice.
“You’re not going to win, either,” I retorted as we got to the workroom door. “I don’t want them involved in anything dangerous any more than you do, but they’re adults, and as they like to point out, they changed both our diapers.”
Avery was just coming in the back door of the building. “Is it lunchtime already?” I asked.
The teenager shook her head and the dangling earrings she was wearing made a tinkling sound. “Nah, it’s only eleven o’clock.”
“So what are you doing here so early?”
“Water pipe burst,” she said. “There’s about a foot of water in the gym and the halls.” She grinned. “We got evacuated. I figured I might as well come and work.” The grin disappeared. “That was okay, right?”
I nodded. “Right now you can watch the cash for me. After that I have a project for you.”
The smile came back, a bit more tentative than before. “I kinda have a project I’d like to ask you about, too.”
I held up one hand. “I’ll be about five minutes.”
“No problem,” she said, moving past us.
Rose and Liz were in the sunporch, which was the Angels’ base of operations at least during the warmer months of the year. During the winter they had moved into a corner of the workroom. Stella Hall had left, but Alfred Peterson was at his computer sitting in the office chair that Rose had trash-picked and Mac had repaired.
“Hello, Nicolas,” Rose said. There was just an edge of challenge in her voice. She clearly knew why Nick was at the shop. On the other hand, she hadn’t come out swinging the way she had in the past.
Something was up and as usual I was the last one to know.
“Hi,” Nick said, with a nod that took in Liz and Mr. P.
“What can we do for you?” Rose asked.
“Stella Hall is hiring you to look into Mr. Quinn’s death.” He said the words as a statement of fact, not as a question.
“Yes, she is,” Rose said. She wasn’t so much smiling as looking smug, rather like Elvis after he’d just eaten a particularly tasty bite of chicken. As I had the thought I noticed the cat was sitting on a chair next to Mr. P., seemingly settled in to watch whatever was going to happen, almost as if he, too, knew what was coming.
“Then what I’d like you to do is tell her you can’t investigate,” Nick said.
“Why on earth would we do that?” Liz asked. She and Rose exchanged a look and as Rose turned back to Nick, I saw a quick smile pass between her and Mr. P. It really did seem that everyone knew what was up except me.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “Your agency is out of business.”
“No, it isn’t,” Rose replied. “We just got new business cards.” She took a couple of steps over to the table they were using as a desk, picked up a small cardboard rectangle and handed it to him.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “but you’re not a licensed private investigator. The state has rules.”