Jane Evans had worked for Daniel Swift, who was descended from the original family that had founded North Harbor, at Swift Holdings. Liz had persuaded her to come work for the Emmerson Foundation, Liz’s family’s charitable foundation.
“Liz probably told Jane,” Jess continued. “She told Josh. You know how those things work.”
Tina came back then with Jess’s order, including a bottle of the amber ale Sam had mentioned to me.
“Sam wanted your opinion on that,” I said, indicating the tall green bottle.
Tina smiled. “On the house.”
“I can do that,” Jess said with a smile.
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, Jess wordlessly handing over one of her breadsticks. “So is Nick coming?” she asked.
“As far as I know.”
“Do you want me to remember a previous engagement and make myself scarce?”
I frowned at her. “Why would you do that?”
She raised an eyebrow. “So the two of you can have a little alone time.”
I looked around at the rapidly filling room. “Because this is such an intimate romantic place,” I said.
“Hey, I was just trying to nudge you two along a little,” Jess said.
I rolled my eyes at her.
“Are you at least going to kiss him again? And I don’t mean that little peck-on-the-cheek thing you do, which is more like kissing your brother.”
“We’re not talking about kissing Nick or my brother.”
Jess opened her mouth to say something and I held up a hand. “Not. Doing. It.”
She laughed. “Well, at least tell me if the earth moved when you kissed Nick.”
“You’ve been watching Outlander again, haven’t you?” I said.
“Love me some Jamie Fraser,” Jess said. “I wouldn’t mind kissing him.”
I shook my head and bent over my bowl again.
“So have you figured out exactly what happened to Rose yet?” she asked after she’d devoured about three-quarters of her noodles and chicken. She’d tucked one leg underneath her and was leaning against the back of her chair, drinking the beer straight from the bottle.
I sighed and shook my head. “Not really.” I explained what Rose had seen, what Michelle thought had happened and how I’d noticed the needle mark on Rose’s neck, which had resulted in Nick taking the blood sample.
“So what do you think?” she said. “Do you believe Rose actually did see someone dragging that guy’s body?”
“I think she saw something. I just don’t know what. You know Rose. She’s not above taking a little dramatic license to get what she wants, but she wouldn’t make this up and she didn’t have a stroke. First of all, they checked her out at the hospital, and second, she’s as healthy as a horse. Her blood pressure is lower than mine.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think Leesa Cameron killed her husband, assuming that he’s really dead.”
I pushed my empty dish away. “And that would be because?”
“She’s been in the shop about half a dozen times,” Jess said. “And she just bought a vintage lace robe on Tuesday. It’s not the kind of sexy purchase a woman makes if she’s going to kill her husband the next day.”
“True,” I said. “But it is the kind of sexy purchase a woman makes if someone other than her husband is going to see her in it.”
Jess made a face. “Good point. You think someone else was going to get a look at the goods, so to speak?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “I wish there was a way to find out.”
“What are you drinking?” a voice said behind us. Nick was standing there.
He really was cute, I thought, looking up at him as he shrugged out of his rain jacket. His hair was windblown, which made him look younger and less serious. He’d always had the kind of boy-next-door looks that made women swoon.
Jess turned the bottle so he could read the label. “So what’s wrong with it?” he asked, snagging the third chair and pulling it closer to us before he sat down next to me. He smelled like Hugo, the aftershave he’d been wearing since high school, the aftershave he’d been wearing when I French-kissed him at fifteen.
I shook my head. It wasn’t a good time to think about that.
“Nothing,” Jess said. “It’s great—rich, warm with a hint of caramel.”
“So why the face?”
“We were talking about what happened to Rose,” I said. “Do you know if Michelle has managed to get a lead on Jeff Cameron?”
“Not as far as I know,” Nick said. “What about Rose and her cohorts? Have they come up with anything?”
Jess tried not to smile and took another drink of her beer.
“They have a couple of theories,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“Are you going to tell me what they are?” Nick scanned the room but couldn’t seem to catch the eye of any waitstaff. Jess looked up, and just like before, Tina was suddenly on her way to the table. “How do you do that?” he said.
“I’m cute,” she said with an offhand shrug. “And I tip better than you do.”
Nick ordered a cheeseburger and our usual chips and salsa, which we had winter or summer.
“And one of those?” Tina asked, pointing at the beer bottle in Jess’s hand.
Nick made a face. “Sadly, I’m on call. Just coffee.”
“Good choice,” she said. She looked at me. “Another decaf?”
“Please,” I said.
“And one for me, too, please,” Jess added.
“It shouldn’t take long,” Tina said.
Nick leaned an elbow on the table. “So tell me, what are the Angels’ theories about where Jeff Cameron is?”
“I’m not answering that question,” I said. “It’s just going to make you crazy if I tell you.”
He gave me that little boy smile that after all the years of using it on me shouldn’t have worked so well but often did. “Oh, c’mon, Sarah. Give me a break. I’m trying. I didn’t say one word to Rose about getting involved in this case.”
“Seriously? You didn’t?” Jess said, skepticism clearly in her expression and her voice.
He turned to look at her, narrowing his brown eyes. “You’re not helping.”
She pointed a finger at his face. “It’s so adorable how you think I was trying to.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she managed to keep it in check.
A different server appeared at the table with Nick’s coffee, along with a pot of decaf and a heavy stoneware mug for Jess. I waited until he’d filled both of our cups before I answered Nick. “Okay,” I said. “Rose and the others actually have two theories and they’re working on both of them. One is that Leesa Cameron killed her husband.”
“I thought she has an alibi.”
“Alibis can be faked,” Jess said, adding cream to her mug.
“Yes, Leesa Cameron has an alibi, but it’s just the word of one person at the moment,” I added.
“What’s the other theory?” Nick asked.
I hesitated, reaching for a packet of sugar to buy a bit of time.
“Oh, c’mon, Sarah,” he said. “Tell me.”
“Jeff Cameron faked his own death,” I said flatly.
I waited for him to laugh. To my surprise he just nodded.
“Wait a minute, you’re not going to tell me how preposterous the idea is?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Because it’s not. People have faked their deaths before. The problem is they tend to slip up in some way—they contact someone in their old life or their story makes the news and they get recognized. So if that’s what happened, there’s a good chance he’ll get caught.”
Jess leaned sideways out of Nick’s line of sight and winked at me. I ignored her even though I was happy to see that Nick was trying to be less judgmental when it came to the Angels’ detective agency. He’d been blindsided when Mr. P. had met all the state’s requirements, become a licensed private investigator and taken Rose on as his apprentice. He seemed to think his mother and her friends should spend their time baking cookies and holding fund-raisers for the library.