“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.
Grace nodded. “Me too. Maybe if he’d given us another chance he’s still be alive.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “My mother always said it’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor one. I think it’s the same for a rich woman. But Arthur didn’t see it that way.” She cleared her throat. “And since I’m confessing my weaknesses to you I may as well tell you that I spent the rest of the day with my private detective going over all the information on Arthur that he had.”
I’d wondered how the newspaper had dug up so much on Arthur Fenety so fast. “You sent it all to the paper,” I said.
She nodded. “I did. My mother also said revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“In my experience, revenge is a dish best not served at all,” Charlotte said softly.
Grace turned and pointed to a man several people back in the line behind her. “The man in the brown leather jacket, he’s the detective I hired. You can ask him where I was on Monday.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I hope things work out for you friend,” she said. The line moved again and she was at security.
Grace MacIntyre’s detective, Malcolm Kent, had a strong handshake, deep blue eyes, and iron gray hair in a brush cut. I introduced Charlotte and myself and explained who we were.
“Mrs. MacIntyre just sent me a text,” he said. “What would you like to know?”
“She was with you on Monday?” I asked.
He nodded. “She was. From about eleven thirty until close to three o’clock at the Fairgate Hotel. We ordered room service, if that helps.”
“It does,” I said.
“Mrs. MacIntrye asked me to give you a copy of everything I learned about Arthur Fenety. If you give me your e-mail address I’ll send it to you.”
I gave Malcolm Kent the store’s e-mail, thanked him and Charlotte and I walked over to Liz and Mr. P.
“Any luck?” Liz asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “She has an alibi.”
We headed back out to the parking lot. “There has to be an easier way to do this,” I said, fishing the keys to the SUV out of my pocket. “There has to be some way to find out which one of the women in Arthur Fenety’s life wanted him dead.”
“Wasn’t that pretty much all of them?” Liz said dryly.
Charlotte shook her head. “No. Grace MacIntyre actually wanted him back.”
Liz rolled her eyes.
“Don’t you think the woman who knew him best would know that?” Mr. P. said.
We all looked at him.
“Who would that be?” I asked.
Mr. P. looked at the three of us, a slightly baffled expression on his face. “His sister, Daisy. Has anyone gone and talked to her?”
Chapter 16
“No,” Charlotte said. “None of us know her very well. She only got here a couple of months ago and she’s kept pretty much to herself.”
“I’ve never met her,” I said, sliding onto the driver’s seat. Elvis had climbed into the front while we were gone and he nuzzled my arm. “Good job on keeping the SUV safe,” I said, giving him a quick scratch behind one ear. He licked my hand and sat up just a little straighter.
“Actually, you have,” Charlotte said. “Do you remember the woman who came in—let’s see—maybe three weeks ago and bought that forget-me-not cream pitcher?”
I shifted so I could see Charlotte in the backseat. “That was Daisy?”
She nodded.
I pictured the woman in my mind. Daisy Fenety was tall and elegant with blond hair waved back from her face in a smooth bob. She’d come across as a little aloof but very knowledgeable about the china.
“I’ll go talk to her,” Charlotte said. “I’ve at least spent a little time with her. She and Arthur came with Maddie to help sort books for the book sale for the playground fund-raiser.” She pulled out her phone.
“I’m calling Rose,” she said. “I don’t have time to make anything and I can’t go to see Daisy empty-handed.”
“Charlotte, we can stop at Lily’s and get a cake or something.”
She looked at me like I’d suggested we all go skinny-dipping in the fountain in front of the library. “I’m going to express my condolences,” she said. “I can’t show up with a store-bought cake.”
Mr. P. caught my eye and gave a tiny shrug. Obviously he hadn’t heard of that rule.
“Do you have any blueberry muffins in your freezer?” Charlotte said into the phone. Rose must have said yes because Charlotte smiled. “Okay, then. Take them out to thaw. I’m going to see Daisy and I need something to take with me.” There was another pause and then they started debating the merits of blueberry muffins versus rhubarb muffins. At least I assumed they were debating it, since I could hear only Charlotte’s side of the conversation.
I started to back out of the parking spot. “I wouldn’t have a problem taking a store-bought cake,” Liz said quietly beside me.
I shot her a quick smile. “That’s why I love you,” I said.
We got back to the store just in time to catch a busload of Canadians on their way to a football weekend in Boston. Mr. P. disappeared into the sunporch with his laptop.
“I’ll go make the tea,” Liz said. She headed upstairs, Elvis at her heels. I made a mental note to get tea bags. It seemed like this version of Charlie’s Angels pretty much ran on tea.
The bus tour kept us busy until after four thirty. Liz brought us all tea and I was happy to sit down for a minute and drink it. The teacup gardens had sold out again, along with three of Avery’s four wine-carafe gardens. One woman had bought a small corner table that we were going to pack and ship all the way to Newfoundland for the ridiculously large fee Mac had quoted to her. Without prompting, Avery got the vacuum out and started on the stairs.
“Where does Daisy live?” I asked Charlotte. She was straightening up the bookcase.
“She and Arthur were renting a house just down from the stone church.” The stone church was actually the Church of the Good Shepherd, but around town it was known as the stone church. It was close to two hundred years old, made from Maine limestone.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “It’s too far for you to walk down to Legacy Place and then all the way to Daisy’s.” I seemed to be getting way more involved in this investigation than I’d planned to—than I’d wanted to, but it didn’t seem right to let Charlotte walk all that way and talk to Daisy by herself.
Charlotte smiled. “Okay. I wouldn’t mind having some company. I’m not exactly sure what to say to her.”
“We’ll just play it by ear,” I said. I didn’t really know what to say, either. I called Rose to let her know we’d be down soon to get the muffins. “We should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I said.
“I’ll be out in front of Shady Pines, waiting for you,” she said.
Rose was standing on the sidewalk when we pulled up in front of her apartment building. She handed a small pansy-patterned tin to Charlotte through the passenger’s window.
“I put them in a tin because she’ll have to give it back to you and that will give you another chance to talk to her,” Rose said.
I leaned over and smiled at her. “Pretty crafty.”
“I try.” She smiled, not at all modestly. “I’ll save you some supper,” she said to Charlotte. She looked at me again. “What about you, Sarah? Could you join us? I’m making potato scallop.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “But I’m meeting Jess later.”
“I’d better get back upstairs and check on things,” she said.
We waved and I headed across town for Daisy Fenety’s house.
“What do you know about Daisy?” I asked Charlotte.
“Not very much,” she said, smoothing a wrinkle out of her skirt. “I know she’s a few years younger than Arthur. She worked in the registrar’s office of a small private college but I don’t know where. And as far as I know she never married.” She folded her hands over the tin of muffins in her lap. “And the only reason I know any of that is because Maddie tried so hard to draw her out while we were sorting the books.”