“I’ll see what I can dig up on Fenety’s wives.” Mr. P.’s fingers were already moving over the keyboard.
I nodded. I didn’t want to know how he planned to do that so I didn’t ask. Just the way I hadn’t asked how he’d gotten the name of the pesticide that had killed Arthur Fenety. I was beginning to suspect Mr. P. had a little more of the bad boy in him than I’d thought.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Liz asked.
“Do you have a phone?” Mr. P. said.
“Yes.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.
“Can you sound like an old lady?” he asked.
“What? You’ll have to speak up,” Liz said. Her voice was shaky and pitched a little higher. She sounded a good ten years older.
Mr. P. smiled approvingly. “You can help,” he said.
Rose looked at her watch. “I need to get to work.” She got to her feet.
“And I should go home and see how Maddie’s doing,” Charlotte said.
Rose laid a hand on Mr. Peterson’s shoulder as she passed behind him. “Thank you so much for your help, Alfred,” she said. “I don’t know how to thank you. Could I at least get you another cup of tea?”
He smiled broadly. “Maybe in a little while,” he said.
I remembered the woman Jess and I had seen at The Black Bear the same day that Arthur Fenety died. I raked my fingers back through my hair. “Start with Grace MacIntyre,” I said. “Jess and I saw a woman who looked just like her photograph at Sam’s on Monday night.”
“One of Arthur’s wives was in town?” Rose paused in the doorway.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find her,” Mr. P. said.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Liz said to Charlotte. She pulled her chair a little closer to Mr. P. “So, where do we start?” I heard her ask him.
I walked out to the front of the store with Charlotte. “Can I ask you something?” I said.
She smiled. “I don’t know. Can you?” she said.
It was an old joke between us and I was glad to see it could still make her smile.
“Do you think Maddie killed Arthur Fenety?”
She looked at me like I’d suddenly sprouted an apple tree on the top of my head. “Why on earth would you ask that? Of course I don’t.”
“Then don’t beat yourself up because you have an old bottle of bug killer in your garage.”
Charlotte smoothed the front of her yellow shirt. “Maddie thought I’d gotten rid of all those chemicals. She’d been after me for years about using them.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “But what if the person who actually did kill Arthur used the napthathion in my garage?”
I looked at her. “Seriously?”
She looked back at me a bit sheepishly. “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe a little,” I said.
She reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You remind me of your grandmother.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”
“It’s meant as one.”
Mac had carried in a large box with the rest of the quilts that Jess had repaired and I’d managed to remove the musty smell from with vinegar and Woolite. I’d made a display stand out of an old folding clothes rack and painted it creamy white. Rose was sorting the quilts by color. She clearly had everything under control, and I left her to it.
“I’m going to do those dishes before I go,” Charlotte said. “I just remembered that Maddie had another meeting with Josh so she isn’t home right now.”
“Thanks,” I said.
She smiled. “Liz and Alfred Peterson are out in the sunporch, trying to find Arthur Fenety’s wives. I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
I shrugged. “I like Mr. P., especially when he has his clothes on.”
Charlotte laughed and headed for the steps. Mac walked over to me, carrying a couple of message slips. He handed me the pieces of paper. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“There’s a geriatric computer hacker using my Wi-Fi and doing things I don’t want to think about, but, otherwise, things are fine.”
“I’ve got things covered here,” he said. “Rose and I can handle the shop. Avery’s outside, washing those plastic chairs you wanted to put in the window. Why don’t you go up to your office to take a break?”
I pulled a hand over my neck and looked at the messages Mac had given me. “I suppose I could return these,” I said.
“Or you could put your feet up and let the world turn without you for five minutes.”
“Okay, that too,” I said.
As I started up the steps Elvis came from the small storage area underneath the stairs. There was a dust ball stuck to one of his ears and a bit of tape on his front left paw.
“What were you doing down there?” I said as he came level with me.
He seemed to shrug and then moved past me on up the steps.
“You’d better not have been poking around in any boxes,” I warned.
He flicked his tail at me. I was pretty sure I knew what that meant.
I unlocked my office door, sank onto my chair and propped my feet on the edge of the desk. Elvis jumped onto my lap and nuzzled my cheek. I reached over and scratched underneath his chin.
“I wish Gram was here,” I said.
My cell phone rang. I reached for it, smiling when I saw who was calling. “Hi, Mom,” I said.
I leaned back, shifting Elvis on my lap.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “How’s everything?”
“You talked to Gram,” I said. I pictured her smiling and nodding.
“I did. I can’t believe Maddie Hamilton was arrested. She wouldn’t kill anyone.”
Elvis had stretched out in my lap and was lazily washing his face with a paw.
“Do you remember Josh Evans, Mom?” I asked.
“Was he the little guy in the purple cape who could argue your ear off?”
I laughed. “That’s Josh. The purple cape is gone, and he’s a lawyer now. He’s representing Maddie.”
“Good,” she said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“There might be,” I said. Elvis took one last swipe at his face, then laid his head on my leg and closed his eyes. “Does Dad still have any contacts at the paper?”
My stepfather had been a journalist for many years. Now he taught journalism and writing at Keating State College in New Hampshire.
“He does,” Mom said. “A bunch of them got together a few weeks ago to talk about their glory days.”
“I bet that was fun.”
She laughed. I pictured her sitting out on the patio overlooking the backyard, watching the squirrels defeat Dad’s latest contraption to keep them out of the bird feeder. “Actually it was,” she said. “I finally got the real story about how he got that little scar on his forehead.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to like it,” I said.
She laughed again. “I know you are.” I heard her shift in her seat, probably reaching for a cup of tea.
“So, what do you need to know?” she asked. “I’m assuming that’s why you asked about the paper.”
“Yeah,” I said, picking a clump of black cat hair off my shirt and dropping it onto the floor. Elvis didn’t stir. “It’s a little complicated. Rose and Charlotte and Liz are kind of investigating.”
“You mean the murder?” Mom said.
I sighed. “Yes.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“I know,” I said. “Try convincing them of that. I’m just trying to keep them from getting in too much trouble.”
“What do you need to know?”
I shifted in my seat again and this time Elvis lifted his head and glared at me. I stroked his fur and after a moment he put his head down again.
“Arthur Fenety spent some time in New Hampshire,” I said. “At least one of his wives is there. Anything about Fenety’s background might be useful. And I’ll pass everything on to Josh.”
“I’ll ask your dad when he gets home,” Mom said.
“Tell him thank you,” I said.