“Love you, sweetie,” she called after me.
“Just because you were vindicated doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep having a regular checkup once a year.” I stopped and turned back to look at her standing in the doorway.
“Don’t you have to get back to work, dear?” she asked sweetly.
I pointed a finger at her. “This conversation is not over,” I said.
She blew me a kiss and disappeared back into the sunporch.
It was a quiet morning at the shop, no bus tours and few tourists coming off the highway, probably because it was raining and people just wanted to get wherever they were going. Just before lunch I called Sam to see if I could get a second opinion on Mac’s accordion. Liz had already threatened to show up at two a.m. with the other accordion he’d given to Avery and play Queen’s “We Will Rock You” outside his bedroom window.
Mac had laughed and Liz had patted his cheek. “It’s fricking cute how you think I’m kidding,” she’d said.
Sam was in his office when I got to the pub. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk, his dark-framed glasses halfway down his nose.
“Knock, knock,” I said.
Sam looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said. “That was fast.”
“The shop’s quiet,” I said, pulling off my raincoat and draping it on the back of a chair. I set the bag with the accordion on the sofa.
Sam came around the desk and gave me a hug. “Where did you get an accordion anyway?” he asked.
“Mac,” I said, “and actually it was two accordions.” I told him the story of Mac helping Glenn move his uncle’s couch and being offered the accordions or the growler of beer.
Sam laughed. “From what I know of Clayton’s place, you could probably fill your store twice over, with enough stuff left for a good-size storage unit.”
“I know,” I said. “And it may come to that. I’m putting a proposal together for Glenn and his cousin for us to get the house a little more habitable.”
“Good luck with that,” Sam said. “Clayton has always been a bit of a pack rat.
He lifted the accordion out of the shopping bag I’d put it in. I leaned against his desk while he turned it over and examined the instrument from every angle. Finally he looked at me. “So what were you thinking?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Somewhere between four and five hundred.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t see why you won’t get that.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“Do you have time for a sandwich?” he asked. “Applewood smoked bacon and fresh tomatoes.”
“That does sound good,” I said.
Sam pointed at the sofa. “Sit. I won’t be long.”
I sat. From the couch I could see Sam’s photos from the early days of the pub and the band. My dad was in several of them. It always made me feel good to see them. He’d died when I was five, and both my mother and Gram had worked to keep my memories of him alive, but it was when I was with Sam that I seemed to feel the closest to him.
Sam came back with sandwiches and coffee for both of us. I groaned with happiness after the first bite of my sandwich. “What is this bread?” I said, my mouth half-full of food. “It’s really good.”
“Honey beer bread,” Sam said, wiping a dab of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. “Glenn made it.” His mouth twitched and he started to laugh. “I guess he had to settle for the beer since Mac took the accordions.”
I laughed. “Well, that worked out well, because I’m not sure Mac can make bread, although Rose would probably be happy to give him lessons.”
Sam’s expression grew serious. “I heard the police found Jeff Cameron’s body.”
I nodded.
“Rumor has it his wife killed herself.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Rumors are usually pretty accurate,” I said.
Sam reached for his coffee. “I forgot to tell you when I saw you last week. I actually saw him—it would have been Monday—having some kind of heated conversation with someone.”
“What do you mean by heated conversation?” I asked.
“Raised voices, mostly,” he said. “Although I wasn’t close enough to make out what was being said.”
“Was this a male someone he was having the conversation with or a female someone?”
“Male.” Sam leaned back and draped his free arm along the back of his chair. “My height, bit bigger build, hair cut close to his head.” He frowned. “Why the questions?”
“No reason, really,” I said.
“Rose isn’t ready to let this go.”
“Pretty much.”
Sam let out a breath. “Just be careful, all right?”
I nodded. “I will. I promise.”
The conversation turned to the bands Sam had lined up for the rest of the summer, and then I collected the accordion, gave him a hug and left. I hadn’t said anything to Sam, but the description of the mystery man arguing with Jeff Cameron matched the photo of Mike Vega that Mr. P. had found online. As I drove back to the shop I wondered why anyone ever bothered to commit a crime in a small town like North Harbor. It seemed someone who knew someone who knew you was always watching.
We made up for the quiet morning with a busload of tourists in the afternoon on their way from Boston to Newfoundland who dripped all over the shop but spent enough that I didn’t really mind. Just before we closed Rose came to find me. I was in the back, looking for a box of dishes.
“Two things,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, turning to face her. “What’s number one?”
“Charlotte talked to Maddie. Maddie said that when Chloe’s parents were out of town someone was staying with her. She has no idea who, but she saw someone getting into Chloe’s car a couple of times. The person was wearing a hoodie with the hood over their face.”
“Interesting.”
Rose nodded. “I thought so.”
“So what’s number two?” I asked.
“I know why Chloe worked so hard to get the job with Jeff Cameron,” she said, a self-congratulatory, cat-that-swallowed-the-canary expression on her face.
I pushed a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “It wasn’t because they were having an affair, was it?”
“Heavens, no!” Rose made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “What happened is, I started thinking, what would make her so eager to have that particular job?”
“And?”
“Why do people do anything?” she asked. “Sex, money, power.” She ticked them off on her fingers.
“You eliminated sex.”
“I’m not saying Jeff Cameron wasn’t an attractive man, at least physically, but he seemed a little long in the tooth for someone Chloe’s age. And no one I talked to seemed to think she was interested in him in that way. In fact, she didn’t seem to be interested in anyone. Up to the point that she took the semester off, all of her focus was on her studies.”
I leaned against the workbench. “Okay, so sex is out. What about money?”
“Chloe turned down a job at the library that would have paid more.”
“Really?” I said.
Rose nodded. “She had experience. She worked there during high school.”
“That leaves power,” I said. “What kind of power did Chloe Sanders get by working for Jeff Cameron?”
The smile returned to Rose’s face. “I don’t think she was looking to gain power. I think she was looking to use his, or to be more exact, his influence. Chloe wanted to transfer to the BA/MA program in international studies at Johns Hopkins.
I looked blankly at her.
“She needed a recommendation from someone with international business experience.”
“Jeff.”
Rose nodded. “Yes. And one of the professors on the acceptance committee worked at Helmark at one time. I think Chloe was researching the members of the committee and that’s why she went to Jeff’s lecture. When he mentioned he was going to hire an assistant for the summer, it must have seemed like the perfect opportunity to her. Remember, she did say it was her big chance.”
“So how is that a motive for her to have killed him?”
“Because the deadline for all supporting documents is two days from now and the only reference they’ve received for Chloe came from one of her professors.”