I nodded. “I do. I know it sounds crazy, but watch.” I pointed at the small screen. “See? There. Whoever that is just adjusted their hair.” The person in the video put his or her hand up and moved their entire head of hair slightly forward. “That hair is probably not real at all.”
Rose studied the video as she weighed my words. “I can’t tell,” she said finally, “but I trust your judgment.”
“So if that’s not Jon West, someone put in some effort to make it look like he was at Lily’s,” Mac said.
Rose took off her glasses and cleaned them on the hem of her sweater. “I think Alf and I need to do a little more digging.” She bustled back toward Mr. P., who had been diligently typing on his laptop for the previous ten minutes while sneaking little peeks in our direction.
Mac leaned over and scratched the top of Elvis’s head. “Stay out of that,” he said quietly. The cat immediately dropped his paw and stopped rooting in the box.
“Why does he listen to you when you tell him to stay out of something but ignore me when I tell him?” I asked.
“It’s a guy thing,” Mac said.
Elvis meowed his agreement.
“So are you going to tell Rose the other reason you think Jon West is innocent?” Mac asked.
“What would that be?” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm.
Elvis, with his uncanny sense of timing, meowed loudly.
Mac didn’t say a word. He just looked, pointedly, from the cat to me.
“Fine. I was watching while Jon was petting him.” I glanced at Elvis, who seemed to smile at me. “I don’t think Jon West had anything to do with Lily’s death because my cat, the feline lie detector, told me so. Nothing crazy about that.”
“It’s not so far-fetched,” he said. “Elvis has better night vision than we have. He has a better sense of smell. Why is it so crazy that he can sense the physiological signs that someone is lying?” He nudged me with his shoulder. “You think it was a coincidence that Elvis seemed to know who killed Arthur Fenety before the rest of us did?”
“I was kind of hoping it was,” I said.
Mac laughed. “Elvis being able to tell when someone is lying is not the strangest thing that’s happened around here,” he said. We headed out into the shop.
Avery and Charlotte were standing by the front window. Actually, Avery was standing in the window, gesticulating wildly while Charlotte nodded from time to time. Mac raised his eyebrows.
“Point taken,” I said.
I went back up to my office and spent the next hour putting together an offer for the items we wanted to buy from Malcolm Thomas’s family. When I came back downstairs, Charlotte was waiting on a customer who was holding two quilts and Avery was dusting a set of bookshelves that Mac and I had made from an old pantry cabinet.
I was glad I’d said yes to her window display idea. I didn’t know a lot of the details behind Avery’s problems at home, but I could see it had been good for her to be with Liz and spend time with Rose and Charlotte as well, just the way it had been good for me when I’d been her age.
Avery came over to me. “I talked to Sam,” she said. I could see from the grin on her face that he’d said yes, she could borrow the KISS costumes. I made a mental note to thank him the next time I saw him.
“And he said yes?” I said.
She nodded.
“I can’t wait to see what you and Charlotte come up with.”
Her expression grew serious, and she slid the stack of bracelets up and down her arm. “If you like it, could I maybe do a window all by myself sometime?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She threw her arms around me. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said.
I hugged her back. “You’ve been doing a good job,” I said. “I’m glad I hired you.”
She pulled back out of the embrace and rolled her eyes at me. “You mean because Nonna forced you into it.”
“Your grandmother didn’t make me hire you, Avery,” I said.
She looked surprised. “Really? I thought maybe she knew some embarrassing story about you or something.”
That idea made me laugh. “Avery, there are dozens of embarrassing stories about me floating around. So many there’s no blackmail potential left. Nobody made me hire you.”
The woman at the cash register had picked up one of the teacup gardens. “Look,” I said. “Your teacup gardens sell out as fast as we get them made. They were your idea.”
“I’ll bring the rest of them out as soon as I finish this shelf,” she said.
I nodded and headed for the storeroom.
Mac was still at the workbench talking on his phone. The top of a mantel clock was lying in three pieces, and I could see he’d gotten a couple of clamps out. The clock had been another yard-sale find, the wooden case in several pieces, but for two dollars it seemed worth the investment of a little time. Mac set his cell on the workbench, pulled one hand over his neck and uttered a couple of swearwords almost under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He made a face and shook his head. “The place where I’ve been renting my apartment has been sold. I have six weeks to find a new place.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Maybe I should see if Rose is interested in being roommates.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If I had another apartment, I’d let you have it. If I had any space other than the little storage closet you saw under the stairs, it would be yours.”
Mac managed a smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the thought.”
“Why don’t you let Mac move in here?” Avery was standing behind us, probably on her way to get the tiny planters.
I looked around the space. “Avery, this is a storage room,” I said. “Mac can’t live here.”
She gave me the look teenagers have been giving adults for millennia. That “how dumb can you be” expression.
“Not down here, duh,” she said. “There’s that big space upstairs that we don’t even use half of for storage. Why can’t Mac live there?”
Chapter 13
Mac said, “No,” at exactly the same time as I said, “What do you mean?” He spoke first the second time. “No,” he said again.
I pictured the second-floor storage area Avery was talking about. The big room that faced the side parking lot was actually two rooms with doors that slid back into the wall. In one of the building’s previous incarnations, it had been a private smokers’ club. There had been a wet bar at the end of the bigger of the two rooms, and the plumbing was still in place.
“Hang on a minute,” I said. “Avery might be onto something.”
“I am,” she said. She didn’t lack confidence in her ideas. “There’s not that much stuff up there. I know because I was just upstairs to get a couple of the quilts for Charlotte—nothing really big because it’s too hard to get big stuff up the stairs in the first place. And we still have under the stairs and even the sunporch until spring because the Angels have their office in here now anyway. And Mac could even use the back staircase because it’s only sort of blocked off, and then he wouldn’t have to go through the store all the time.”
I held up both hands. “Avery, take a breath.”
“No,” Mac said for the third time.
It could work, I realized. “Mac, we should at least take a look.”
“We should,” Avery echoed. She tucked her dark hair behind one ear. “I already have some ideas for how you could do the layout.”
“And I’m sure they’re good ones,” I said. “But we’re just going to take a quick look. I need you down here with Charlotte for now.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Come take a look,” I said to Mac, inclining my head in the direction of the stairs.
He shook his head in resignation. “All right.”
He didn’t say a word until we were at the top of the stairs. Then he turned to me. “Okay, we’re here. Just count to ten and then we’ll go back downstairs and say it won’t work.”