“I could stop by late morning on Monday,” Michelle offered. “Would sometime around ten thirty be okay?” Once again I suspected she was motivated more by our friendship than by the desire to find out what Rose and her cohorts had come up with.
“That would be great,” I said. “Thank you.”
“See you Monday,” she said.
I ended the call but held on to the phone. I hadn’t been able to figure out why the name Vega had sounded familiar when Avery had told us it was the last name of the man she’d seen with Leesa Cameron. Jess knew a lot of people. Maybe the name would mean something to her. She was probably out on a date, but I decided to call her anyway. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, what are you doing home on a Friday night?” I said.
“A last-minute fix on a wedding dress.” She muttered something I didn’t catch. “Bride and her mother brought it in. I’m not sure which one was crying harder.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Next Friday night.”
“Ouch!” I said.
“It’s not that bad,” Jess said. “I’ve pretty much got the skirt fixed, and the bride is coming in Monday so I can fit the bodice. What are you doing home on a Friday night?”
“Eating pizza with Elvis. He didn’t feel like going out.”
Jess laughed. “I think he said that last Friday night, too.”
“I have a quick question for you,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“Why does the last name Vega seem familiar to me? Do you know anyone in town who’s a Vega?”
“Michael Vega,” Jess immediately said. “He’s a sports massage therapist. And I’m pretty sure he takes a few clients as a personal trainer. Elin went to him last year after she broke her arm.” Elin was one of her partners in the store.
“That’s it,” I said. I remembered Elin telling me how the massage therapist had helped restore the full range of motion in her arm.
“I thought Nick was going running with you,” Jess teased. “Is the big guy not willing to rub you the right way?”
“I’m hanging up now,” I said.
Jess was laughing. “I’ll see you Sunday,” she said before ending the call.
It was busy from the moment we opened the shop on Saturday. The tourists never seemed to stop coming. I only had time for half a sandwich at lunch. Thankfully, Mr. P. kept us supplied with coffee.
“How do you feel about Chinese food?” Liz asked as I locked the front door at the end of the day. She’d arrived a few minutes earlier to pick up Avery.
I blew a stray strand of hair back off my face. “Do you mean authentic Chinese cuisine or the American takeout version?”
Liz narrowed her gaze at me. “I mean Chinese food that you don’t have to cook.”
“Love it,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “It’s the last night of that film thing at the library so it turns out Avery won’t be home for supper and I probably ordered enough food for half a dozen people.”
“Merow!” Elvis interjected from his perch about halfway up the stairs.
Liz waved a hand in the direction of the steps. “Yes, you’re invited, too.”
Elvis bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
“Hey, I missed you yesterday,” I said to Liz. “Where were you?”
“I had Emmerson Foundation business. Did you want something?” No mention of meeting Michelle.
I explained about being out at Clayton McNamara’s place. “I didn’t know that Gram had a connection to the McNamaras.”
“Those two were thick as thieves when they were kids,” Liz said. “Clayton McNamara could have been your grandfather.”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” I said.
She laughed and started for the workroom to collect Avery. “I’ll see you later, toots.”
Elvis and I ended up spending the whole evening with Liz. Charlotte had found a box full of old photos of herself, Liz, Rose and Gram, taken when they were teenagers. She’d organized them by year and left them with Liz to go through, to see which ones Liz wanted copies of.
“Hey, you were a babe,” I teased, holding up a black and white snapshot of Liz in a one-piece swimsuit, standing on a rock by the shore, one hand on her hip, the other behind her head.
“Give me that!” She reached across the table for the photo.
I grinned and shook my head, holding the picture up out of her reach. “No way. I think I’ve found my Christmas card for this year.”
“You are a wicked child,” Liz said, glaring and pointing a finger at me. “I’m going to find one of those droopy diaper photos of you and that’s going to be my Christmas card this year.”
I laughed, thinking that spending the evening with Liz was way more fun than making awkward small talk on a date. Not that that had actually been an option.
Jess and I went prowling around several flea markets on Sunday and came home with the back of the SUV loaded. Elvis spent the day with Rose and Mr. P. and came home smelling like fish cakes.
I headed in early on Monday. Liz was bringing Rose and Alfred later. I wanted to spray the wicker chairs before it got busy, since I’d never actually gotten to it on Friday or Saturday.
I pulled into the lot to find a white extended-cab half-ton backed up to the rear door. Mac was helping two men in white shirts and loosened ties load a huge walnut armoire into the bed of the truck. He shook hands with both of them and they climbed into the cab and pulled out of the lot. I smiled and raised a hand in greeting as they came past me, and they did the same even though I had no idea who either of the men was.
Mac brushed off his hands and walked over to me. “Hi. You’re up early,” he said. He reached over to scratch the top of Elvis’s head.
“You, too,” I said. “You sold that armoire that’s been in the front window for the last month. Or we were just robbed by two very well-dressed criminals.”
“I sold the armoire.” He gestured toward the street. “They were driving by, saw it in the window and then noticed me in the garage and came to ask me about it. I took them inside to have a look and they asked if they could buy it.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind me saying yes.”
Elvis squirmed in my arms and I set him down. He headed for the back door. “I don’t mind,” I said. “I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to sell that thing. It’s a nice piece of furniture but it’s so big.”
“I know. That’s why they wanted it. They just bought a bed-and-breakfast in Camden—Herrier House. Does the name mean anything to you?”
I nodded.
“They’re redoing the entire place and I thought since they’re in the market for more furniture and other things it would be a good idea to accommodate them today. They were on their way to a funeral in Portland—that’s why the ties and starched shirts. They stopped for coffee and ended up driving by because they were trying to get back out to the highway.” He smiled. “Lucky for us.”
“More like lucky for me that you were here,” I said as we started for the back door, where Elvis had positioned himself, staring expectantly as though he could somehow will it to open. “I owe you for this.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “If I worked anywhere else I wouldn’t be able to arrange my days to get to sail as much as I do. You make that work. I owe you for that.”
“Mac, I rearrange things so Rose and her band of merry angels can chase bad guys. Adjusting the schedule so you can sail is a piece of cake.”
Mac held the back door open for Elvis, who meowed a thank-you and headed inside. “Do you know what’s on their schedule for today?” he asked as we stepped inside.
“Michelle is going to stop by sometime around ten thirty. Mr. P. says he doesn’t want to sneak around behind her back. He wants to share what we know about Jeff Cameron changing his name.”
“Do you think that might convince the police that Rose really did see his body?” Mac asked. I handed him the bag of clean dish towels and he set it up on the workbench.