I didn’t like the way he was selling his mother and Rose and Liz short. “Of course,” I said. “Because the police have done such a good job so far.” I tried to keep my voice even and nonjudgmental, but a little snark still snuck in.
His mouth moved as though he were trying out the feel of what he wanted to say before he said it. “They’ve somehow convinced you that this is a good idea,” he finally said. “Are you out . . . ?” He had the good sense not to finish the sentence.
I waited, arms folded, to see what he’d say next.
He let out a breath and studied the stars overhead for a moment. “I should just stop talking, shouldn’t I?” he said, when his gaze finally dropped to my face.
“I’m thinking it would probably be a good idea,” I said. My momentary anger was gone, like a match that had been struck and immediately blown out. I didn’t want Charlotte and the others investigating Arthur Fenety’s murder any more than Nick did.
“Still want to have supper with me?” he asked.
“As long as we talk about anything except Maddie’s case.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
We fell back in step again.
“Nice weather we’ve been having lately,” Nick said after a too-long awkward silence.
I stopped walking again. Nick stopped as well. “Sarah, at the rate you’re walking we’re going to be having breakfast instead of dinner.”
“Do you really want to spend the next hour talking about the weather?” I asked.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t want to argue with you.”
“So what do you suggest?” I said, smiling so he’d know I didn’t want to argue with him, either.
He laughed, pulling a hand down over his chin. “I don’t know.”
I laughed, too, because the whole situation was kind of funny when you thought about it. Or maybe I was just tired and hungry. “Look, Nick,” I said, “There isn’t anything either one of us can do about your mom and Rose and Liz. They’ve decided they’re going to investigate and it doesn’t matter what either one of us says. I’ll do what I can to keep them out of trouble. And you try not to huff and puff when you talk to your mother.”
“I don’t huff and puff,” he said, a little indignantly, it seemed to me, until I saw a glint of humor in his eyes. “Maybe I growl a little.”
I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “So, do we have a deal?” I asked.
He nodded. “We have a deal.”
We started walking again. “What exactly are they planning to do?” Nick asked after a moment.
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Not for sure. They think Fenety’s death has to be connected to all those women he scammed. Which makes sense to me.”
Nick turned to look at me, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Arthur Fenety was poisoned. That takes planning. It’s personal. It’s hard to poison someone without thinking it through.”
“You’re right,” he said, stepping behind me for a moment to let some people pass us. “A death like Fenety’s—just one person being poisoned—he was targeted. It was very personal. But Fenety’s victims are spread all over New England.”
“Nick, you don’t think Maddie killed him, do you?”
This time it was Nick who stopped walking. “Good Lord, no,” he said. “I’ve known Maddie my whole life. She couldn’t hurt anyone or anything.” He raked a hand through his hair. “When I was five she paid me a nickel a bug to pick aphids off of her rosebushes. I don’t see her poisoning a person when she wouldn’t poison a bug.”
We were in front of The Black Bear and Nick held the door open for me. “What I meant was that a lot of Fenety’s victims that we know about are in other states. Maybe there’s at least one we don’t know about who’s a lot closer.”
“Maybe,” I agreed as we stepped inside. I was remembering being at the pub with Jess and seeing one of the women who had been married to Arthur Fenety. Maybe his other victims weren’t so far away after all.
Sam was standing by the bar when Nick and I walked in. He turned around as if somehow he’d known we were there and smiled as he walked across the room to us.
“Nick Elliot! How the heck are you?” Sam said. They shook hands and grinned at each other.
Nick exhaled loudly and looked around. “I haven’t been here in years,” he exclaimed.
“I’m glad you decided to change that,” Sam said.
“Please tell me you still have live music,” Nick said.
Sam gestured at the corner stage.
“The good stuff?” Nick asked raising an eyebrow.
Sam held out his hands. “I like that old-time rock and roll.”
Nick laughed. “You know,” he said. “It’s good to be home.”
“Did you bring a guitar home with you?” Sam asked. “Tomorrow’s Thursday.”
“You still have Thursday-night jam?” Nick glanced over at the stage again. I wondered if he was remembering the first time he took his guitar up on the stage in here and sat in with the band. “I haven’t played much lately.”
“It’ll come back,” Sam said. “Or you can do what the rest of us do: make it up as you go along.”
Nick laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.”
Sam showed us to a table near the front window, grabbing a couple of menus as we passed the bar. “I’ll send Adam over.”
I slipped off my jacket and hung it on the back of my chair.
“I’ll be up in the morning to pick up the Rickenbacker,” Sam said.
“Okay,” I said. “I put it in my office. Mac knows, in case I happen to be out.”
Nick looked at me. “Sam bought the Rickenbacker? The one I played?”
I nodded.
“Nice,” he said, nodding, and I wondered if Nick was sorry he hadn’t bought the guitar.
“Think about tomorrow night,” Sam said. “Sarah and Jess are coming, and I’ll probably have the Rickenbacker.” He laid a hand on my shoulder for a moment and headed for the kitchen.
Nick pulled out his chair and sat down. “You and Jess are still friends.”
I smiled. “I think we’re like Gram, your mom, Rose and Liz. I think we’re friends forever.” I traced the edge of my menu with a finger. “She makes me laugh. She nags me about working too much, and I still can’t get her to come running with me.”
“She’s probably busy,” he said, completely deadpan.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Uh-huh. There’s a lot of that going around.”
“You and Michelle didn’t reconnect?” he said, opening the menu.
I shook my head. All these years later I still didn’t know why Michelle had stopped being my friend, all but stopped talking to me.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw our waiter on the way over. “What about you?” I said. “Did you keep in touch with anyone?”
He closed the menu and pushed it aside. “No,” he said, picking up his knife and setting it back down again. “I kept saying I’d get back for a visit but it didn’t happen that often.” He shrugged. “Time would just get away from me. You know how it is.’
I nodded.
“Mom kept me more or less up-to-date, though.”
“Yeah, so did Gram when I was away.” I didn’t say that listening to my grandmother talk about what people were doing in town—and sometimes who they were doing—after I’d lost my job kept me from falling down a rabbit hole of depression.
Nick ordered a Bear Burger, Sam’s take on a cheeseburger made with fresh mozzarella cheese, a tangle of sweet fried onions and a spicy mayo-mustard blend that was Sam’s own creation. I ordered what I’d been craving: chili over rice.
We talked about the town while we waited for our food, and then as we ate.
Neither one of us felt like dessert. Nick picked up both checks when Adam brought them to the table.
He smiled at me. “Don’t waste your breath, Sarah,” he said. “I asked you to join me and I’m my mother’s son. That means I’m paying.”