“You know, I don’t think Arthur Fenety would have been able to work his way into your life,” Jess said, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, if you’d been closer to his age.”
“Thank you?” I said.
She laughed.
I thought about Gram. I couldn’t quite picture her being swept off her feet by anyone like Arthur Fenety. It wasn’t that she was smarter than Maddie or any of the other women Fenety had scammed. It’s just that she wasn’t the kind of woman that any kind of line would work on. Gram was drop-dead practical.
“Jess, why do you think Arthur Fenety was able to scam so many women? Maddie’s very intelligent and I don’t think of her as being particularly gullible.”
Jess shifted in her chair. “I don’t think any of those women were stupid or gullible. I think Fenety just made them feel like they weren’t invisible.” She looked around for our waiter, caught his eye and pointed at her glass, holding up two fingers. “Did you ever notice how women love Sam?” she asked.
I laughed. “Oh yeah,” I said. “Women adore Sam.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s funny. He’s a good listener. He’s just a nice guy.”
“Exactly,” Jess said. “I’m guessing that was what Fenety was doing. He probably couldn’t keep the nice-guy routine up long-term, but he could do it long enough to con someone.”
The waiter arrived with two more glasses of wine. He set one in front of me and I thanked him. He put the other one in front of Jess. “Hey, thank you,” she said, looking up at him and giving him the full force of her smile. He grinned back and almost fell over his own feet as he left.
I shook my head. If Jess suddenly decided to start conning men out of their money I could see she’d be very successful. “Promise me you’ll use your powers for good and not for evil,” I said.
She just laughed.
I looked around again. “I guess Nick’s not coming.”
Jess flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Oh, he’ll be here.” She snagged the basket of chips with one finger and slid it across the table, closer to us. Then she narrowed her eyes at me. “I bet you a basket of these that not only will Nick be here but he will have shaved.”
“What does shaving have to do with anything?” I reached for the bowl of salsa before Jess ate all of it and the chips, too.
“If a guy likes you he’ll shave again at the end of the day.” She put a hand under the chip she’d just loaded with tomato, onion and peppers. “What did Nick wear for aftershave when he was in high school?” she asked.
“Hugo,” I said.
“You got that one pretty fast.”
I made a squinty face at her, which she ignored.
“Okay. Not only will Nick shave, he’ll also be wearing Hugo.”
“Fine,” I said. “Just to prove that you’re wrong I’ll take your bet.”
Jess stuck out one hand and shook it like she’d just gotten it wet. “Shake,” she said with a grin. She’d been doing that as long as I’d known her. I held out my hand and did the same.
Sam came out first, without any announcement, carrying his favorite guitar. He slipped onto a stool and went right into the slow version of Clapton’s “Layla.” It took at least a minute for people who had never been to Thursday-night jam—in other words, tourists—to figure out that the set was beginning. About halfway through Eric came out, picked up his bass and joined in. Sean and Vincent slipped into place just as Sam played the first few notes of “Sunshine of Your Love.” Jess suddenly turned her head, looked toward the door and held up her arm. Then she smiled and turned back to the stage. I didn’t need to look to know Nick was on his way over to join us. Jess was still smiling, her eyes locked on the small stage.
Nick dropped onto the chair Jess had snagged earlier.
“Hey, big guy. How are you?” she said, a huge smile stretching across her face.
“I’m good and it’s good to see you,” Nick said, grinning back at her. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been well.” Under the table she kicked my leg. “You’ve been home, what? Two, three weeks? And you’re just making it down for Thursday-night jam now?”
“I’ve been busy.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “You sound like Sarah.”
Nick leaned forward and smiled at me. “Hi, Sarah,” he said.
I lifted a hand in hello. I was playing along in my head, already pulled away by the music. After the Clapton set Sam and the guys moved into some Joe Cocker. I glanced over on “When the Night Comes” and saw that like me Nick was mouthing the words.
The boys ended the set by playing “With a Little Help from My Friends.” Jess put two fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle of appreciation. The rest of us clapped and stomped our feet.
Sam lifted a hand in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll be back.”
Jess turned to Nick and nudged him with her elbow. “See what you miss when you run off to the big city?”
He nodded. “You’re right about that.”
She leaned in a little closer and sniffed. “What is that you’re wearing?” she asked. “It smells familiar.”
“Hugo,” he said.
She kicked me again. “It’s nice,” she said. “You clean up good.”
She was right about that. He was wearing jeans and a purple shirt and he did look good.
“You too, Jess,” he said.
She got to her feet and stretched. “I see someone I need to talk to.” She looked at me. “And I’ll see if I can find our waiter. Didn’t you say you wanted another basket of chips?”
“Yes, please,” I said, sending her a daggers look while she was blocking Nick’s view of me.
She gave me a sweet and very fake smile and squeezed between her chair and Nick’s. “Beer for you?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Please.”
“I’ll be back.”
Nick slid over into her seat. He folded his arms over his chest and studied me for a moment. “Charlie’s Angels?” he asked finally.
“I had nothing to do with the name,” I said, holding up my hands as though surrendering. “That was Avery.”
“And they have an office?”
“A table and some folding chairs on my sunporch.”
He pulled a hand over his chin. “Please tell me they didn’t really convince Alfred Peterson to join their band of merry detectives?”
I couldn’t help grinning at him. “He’s their computer guru.”
Nick shook his head. “Heaven help us.” He exhaled loudly. “So what have they been doing?”
“Did Charlotte call you?” I asked.
“If you’re asking if she told me about the bottle of banned pesticide she has in her garage, the answer is yes. I called Michelle. She’s sending someone to pick it up in the morning.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“What the heck was my mother thinking?”
“Probably that a little bit around her roses wouldn’t hurt anything.’
He pulled a hand across his neck and sighed. “You’re probably right. Anyway, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal.”
“You didn’t leave any fingerprints, did you?” I asked as I reached for my wineglass.
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t actually pick up the bottle and leave any fingerprints on it, did you? Because I know you went and checked on it.”
He got that little-boy-who’d-been-caught-with-his-hand- in-the-cookie-jar look. “How did you know?” he said.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Because if I’d had a key I would have gone and checked that bottle in the garage.”
“The bottle is up on a shelf and it has a layer of dust on it that you could write your name in.”
I felt my shoulders unknot with relief. So whoever killed Arthur Fenety hadn’t used the poison in Charlotte’s garage. “Did you know the son of one of Arthur Fenety’s wives is in town?” I asked.
“I can’t answer that, Sarah,” Nick said.
“All right, that’s a yes.”