Charlotte had been one of the volunteers at the clinic, which had been held in the main entrance of the building Rose still snarkily referred to as Shady Pines. Rose had gone with me to help Charlotte get set up and, she admitted, to catch up on all the gossip. I’d dragged her around for the various tests—Rose did not like doctors. Her blood pressure, pulse and blood sugar had all been lower than mine.
I stuck the key in the ignition and took one last look at the cottage. “I really am turning into Rose,” I said aloud. I couldn’t explain it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened in that little house. The question was, what?
Chapter 5
My cell phone rang then. It was Charlotte. The hospital was ready to discharge Rose.
“I want her to come home with me, but she won’t have any of that,” Charlotte said. “She wants to go home to her own apartment.” Charlotte had a spare room in her little yellow house that Nick had painted and installed new carpet in just a couple of months ago.
Rose’s unwillingness to stay with Charlotte didn’t surprise me.
“We’ll take her home,” I said. “If we have to, you and I and Mr. P. can take turns on guard duty all night.”
Charlotte laughed and I told her I’d be there in about fifteen minutes and ended the call.
Rose wanted to know what had happened to Jeff Cameron and she wasn’t going to rest until she got some answers. She wasn’t going to like the answers I had so far. That persistent streak was what had gotten her involved when Maddie Hamilton had been accused of murder. And it turned out she had a bit of a knack for ferreting out clues, probably because she looked—and baked—like someone’s sweet little grandmother and people just seemed to confide in her. Or maybe it was the cookies. It also helped that Mr. P. had all the computer expertise of a teenage hacking genius. Add to that the fact that Liz knew every bit of gossip going around town and Charlotte, after years of being a school principal, knew pretty much everyone in North Harbor, so it didn’t seem completely crazy that they’d decided to start their own detective agency.
Of course, Nick wasn’t happy about his mother and her friends investigating anything. I could still see the look on his face when he learned that Alfred had met all the requirements to get his PI’s license and Rose had begun an apprenticeship with him.
I knew Rose wasn’t going to let this go. I hadn’t totally been joking when I’d told Charlotte we might have to guard the door to keep Rose from going out to investigate.
Mr. P. was watching for me when I pulled up to the emergency room doors. He raised a hand and I waved back to let him know I’d seen him. I came around the front of the SUV and opened the door for Rose. Charlotte was on one side of her and Mr. P. was on the other. She looked well. She’d combed her hair, her color was good and she seemed to be moving without pain. And she didn’t like Charlotte and Mr. P. hovering. Her lips were pressed together in a tight smile.
“Where are we going, Sarah?” she asked as she reached the SUV.
“Home,” I said.
“Whose?” Her gray eyes were fixed on my face.
“Yours and mine,” I said.
She nodded. “Fine.”
Alfred had already gotten in the back. Charlotte hesitated. “I wish she’d just come with me,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I said, putting an arm around her. In flats she was taller than I was. Since I was wearing a bit of a heel, we were the same size. “And if you suggest that, I’m almost certain Rose will jump out at the first stoplight we hit. And you’ll be the one chasing her, because Alfred’s knees aren’t good and I’m not running in these things.” I stuck out one leg so she could see my pretty wedge sandals.
Charlotte laughed and shook her head. Then she slid in next to Mr. P. I hurried around the back of the SUV and got behind the wheel again. Mr. P. touched my shoulder. “Sarah, you’re in a no-parking zone,” he said.
I leaned forward to look out the windshield. The no-parking sign was right in front of me. “I didn’t even see that,” I said. I’d been so focused on getting as close to the door as possible that there could have been a bear standing there holding the sign and I still wouldn’t have noticed it.
“So put the pedal to the metal before someone sees you,” Rose said from the seat beside me. Her hands were folded in her lap, shoulders squared. My own grandmother would have said she was loaded for bear.
I started the car, drove to the bottom of the lot, paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the street. No one spoke.
I glanced over at Rose again. She hadn’t moved. “I’ll tell you when we get home,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said.
“You were going to.” I touched the brake as a couple of laughing teenagers cut across the street in front of us.
“You don’t know that,” she retorted.
I took one hand off the steering wheel long enough to tap my temple with two fingers. “I’m very smart.”
“You’re very saucy.”
I smiled but kept my eyes on the road. It was quiet the rest of the way home. I pulled into the driveway and we all piled out of the SUV, Mr. P. hurrying around to help Rose out of her seat.
The moment we stepped into Rose’s apartment, Charlotte held up a hand. “No detective work until the tea’s made.” She looked pointedly at Rose.
“Fine with me,” Rose said. “There are chocolate chip cookies in the blue tin.” She started for the cupboard but Charlotte stopped her with a look.
“Sit,” she said, making a shooing gesture with one hand. She had several inches on her friend, along with the bearing and tone of voice that went along with being a former school principal. Rose stood her ground for a moment and then took a seat at the table.
Once everyone had a cup of hot tea and a cookie, Rose turned to me. “You didn’t talk to Jeff Cameron, did you?”
I shook my head. “No, we didn’t.”
“I knew it,” she said, nodding for emphasis. “If you had, you would have said so the moment you picked us up.”
She was right. That’s exactly what I would have done.
“Did you talk to his wife?” Mr. P. asked, breaking a cookie in half and dipping the end of it in his tea.
“I did,” I said. “She claims he left her for another woman and cleaned out their accounts.”
Rose set her cup down. “You don’t believe that, do you, Sarah?” The skepticism in her voice made it clear what she thought.
I took a bite of my cookie to buy a little time before I answered. “I don’t know,” I said, finally. “It seems like an awfully convenient coincidence.”
“Coincidences do happen,” Charlotte said.
I nodded. “I know. And Leesa Cameron did show us—well, Michelle—the text she got from her husband and a bank statement that showed their investment account had been emptied.”
“Those things can easily be faked.” Rose glanced over at Mr. P., who nodded in confirmation.
“Michelle is going to check with the bank in the morning. Leesa also told us that her husband had an assistant, Chloe Sanders. She’s also going to talk to her.”
“I had a Chloe Sanders as a student,” Charlotte said. “She was on the debate team. Do you think it could be the same person?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I know she went to Cahill.”
“That sounds right,” she said.
I rattled off the phone number I’d memorized when Leesa Cameron had showed it to Michelle. “Will you see if you can contact her in the morning? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”
“You’re a pretty good judge of people, Sarah,” Alfred said. “What’s your impression of Mrs. Cameron?”
I sighed and played with my cup, turning it around and around in the saucer. “She seemed genuinely hurt and angry,” I said. “If she was lying, she’s a darn good actress. And it looks like she has an alibi. She said she was with her husband’s sister.”