The Whole Cat and Caboodle: Second Chance Cat Mystery (16 page)

“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.”

“She may not tell us anything,” I said, looking both ways before I turned left.

“Do you think she knew about all Arthur’s shady dealings?” Charlotte said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. You said she’s only been here a few weeks. And if she was working before that, it’s possible she didn’t know a thing.”

“See the white bungalow with the yellow door?” Charlotte leaned forward and pointed.

“That’s it?” I said.

She nodded.

I pulled to the curb in front of the house and shut off the engine. I turned to Charlotte. “We don’t have to give Daisy the third degree,” I said. “I can see it makes you uncomfortable. We’ll give her the muffins and express our sympathy. If we learn anything, fine. If not, that’s all right, too.”

Charlotte smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Maybe I’m too soft, but I feel sorry for Daisy. Her brother’s dead. Whether she knew anything about what he’d been doing or not, he was still her brother—the last of her family. She doesn’t have anybody now.”

I reached over and laid my hand on hers for a moment.

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” I said. “And I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

We walked up the stone pathway to the front door and rang the bell. Beside me I heard Charlotte take a deep breath. I understood how she felt. It didn’t seem right to ambush Daisy Fenety. But on the other hand, it didn’t seem right for Maddie to go to jail for something she didn’t do.

Daisy opened the door and seemed surprised to see us standing there.

“Charlotte. Hello.” She said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry about Arthur,” Charlotte said. She held out the tin of muffins. “These are for you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Thank you,” Daisy said, taking the small round can from Charlotte’s hands. “That’s so thoughtful of you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would you like to come in?”

“For a minute,” Charlotte said. She turned to me. “Daisy, this is Sarah Grayson, my friend Isabel’s granddaughter. She drove me here.”

I held out my hand and the older woman took it. “I think we met at my shop, Second Chance,” I said.

Daisy nodded. “Yes, we did.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you,” she said. I couldn’t help noticing how guarded her expression was. Then again, if my brother had been murdered I’d be guarded around people, too.

We followed Daisy inside. We stepped into a small entryway, which led to the living room. The house was beautifully decorated. Someone had excellent taste. Daisy, I suspected.

Charlotte and I sat on the sofa. It was leather, the color of a bar of dark chocolate and very comfortable. Daisy took a wing chair opposite us. She set the muffins on the round table by the front window and folded her hands in her lap. Then she looked at Charlotte and cleared her throat.

“I know you and Madeline are friends,” she began. She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’m not condoning what she did, but I want you to know I’m not condoning what my brother did, either.”

“You didn’t know,” Charlotte said, gently. “I’m sorry. It must have been an awful shock.”

“I opened the paper and I couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t the brother I grew up with.” She looked away for a moment. “I wish I could apologize to all the women he took advantage of. I wish I could do something for them.” She sat very straight, her shoulders rigid, and in her lap her hands were tightly clenched together. “As far as I can tell, just looking through Arthur’s papers, the money is gone.” She paused for a moment. “There were some pieces of jewelry I found in a box in his closet. I can give those to the police. But there don’t seem to be any secret bank accounts.”

“It’s very thoughtful of you to try to help,” I said. I wondered if that jewelry would turn out to belong to Jim Grant’s mother.

She looked at me. “I believed Arthur when he told me that he had a pension and had saved a lot of money. I didn’t really know my brother.”

I thought about Liam and wondered how I’d feel if I were in Daisy’s place.

She looked at Charlotte. “I really believed he cared about Madeline,” she said. “He called me right after he met her and he seemed genuinely happy.” She pointed to the vase of lilies on the coffee table. “He bought those flowers for me the day he died. He was in such a good mood that morning.”

“Did your brother do any gardening?” I asked.

Daisy shook her head. “He didn’t know a thing about plants. We grew up in Meridian, Florida, with a tiny backyard. He met Madeline at some event for the Botanic Garden but he was only there because he won the ticket.” The bottom hand on her lap kept pulling the fabric of her trousers into little folds. “Madeline talked about gardening and plants all the time. Arthur listened because . . . because he liked her.”

I gestured to the vase holding the flowers. It was china with a raised flower design; white daisies with yellow centers and deep green leaves. “That’s very pretty,” I said. “It’s the Daisy May pattern, isn’t it?”

Daisy looked surprised. “Yes, it is. Arthur bought it for my last birthday. She looked down at the gleaming hardwood floor, then met our eyes again. “It’s my fault he’s dead,” she said.

Charlotte shook her head. “No, Daisy, it’s not your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“She invited me, too.”

“You mean Maddie?” I said. Charlotte and I exchanged glances. Why hadn’t Maddie told us that?

Daisy nodded. “I declined because I had an emergency dentist appointment. I can’t help thinking if I’d gone to lunch, as well, Arthur would still be alive.”

“There was no way you could have known what was going to happen,” I said.

She gave me a faint smile. “Thank you for saying that,” she said. “It’s hard not to keep second-guessing myself. I took the car because I was going to the dentist. I dropped Arthur at the park. It was such a nice day he’d decided to walk. The last time I saw him he was standing by the park gates, talking to the mailman.” She lifted a hand to her throat. “What he did was wrong. I understand that. But Madeline shouldn’t have killed him for it.”

“We don’t think she did,” Charlotte said. “Maddie couldn’t kill anyone.”

“Arthur was at her house. She made the coffee,” Daisy said, two bright spots of color appearing on her cheeks. “I don’t see who else could have done it. I understand your loyalty, but I’m sorry. I think you’re wrong.”

There really wasn’t anything else to say. We told Daisy again how sorry we were for what she was going through and then we were back out in the SUV.

“I don’t know why I thought Daisy would be any help,” Charlotte said. “Of course she blames Maddie. I would, too, in her place.”

“We know where they grew up,” I said, sticking the key in the ignition. “Maybe Mr. P. will be able to dig up something.”

“So, what do we do now?” Charlotte said, fastening her seat belt.

What I should have said was “Nothing.” I should have said “The next thing to do is leave it to Josh’s investigator and the police.” But even against my better judgment I was getting caught up in Maddie’s case. “We need to know if anyone knew that you had that bottle of napthathion in your garage. Or if anyone else had kept a bottle.”

Charlotte nodded thoughtfully. “Could we stop at Liz’s house for a moment?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

We found Liz and Avery in the kitchen. Avery was making what I guessed was a quiche, based on the piecrust and eggs she had out on the counter. She also had a huge amount of kale.

“Any luck with Daisy?” Liz asked.

“We know where Arthur and Daisy grew up,” I said. “Maybe Mr. P. can do something with that.”

“We need to know if anyone knew I had that bottle of pesticide,” Charlotte said.

“Or if anyone else kept a bottle after it was banned,” I said.

“You want the town gossip,” Liz said.

I nodded. “I guess we do.”

“Done,” she said. “I’ll call Elspeth.”

Elspeth was Liz’s niece. She ran a very successful spa and salon in town, Phantasy. We had tourists who came to North Harbor several times a year just for a couple of days of pampering at the spa. Elspeth was a lot like Liz, with the same big heart and sardonic sense of humor, just in higher heels.

Liz held out her hand and studied her impeccably manicured nails. “I had my hands in too much water today. Look at my manicure.” She smiled. “I’ll have to go to the salon first thing in the morning for fingers, toes and what everyone knows.”

I dropped Charlotte off at Rose’s apartment building. “Give Maddie my love,” I said.

“I will,” she promised.

Before I could pull away from the curb Elvis meowed from the backseat.

“What?” I said, turning around to look at him.

He craned his neck as though he were trying to see over the seat back and then he looked at me.

“You can come up if you want to,” I said.

“Merow,” he said somewhat plaintively, it seemed to me. Then he did the neck-craning thing again.

“You’re a cat,” I said. “You can jump from there.”

He stood up and seemed to study the seat back.

“You can make that,” I said.

He sat back down and blinked his green eyes at me.

I shrugged. “Okay. You can stay there. We’re not that far from home.” I looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see him flick his tail at me.

I took Elvis home, gave him his supper and made myself a scrambled egg and tomato sandwich. I had to get to the grocery store. My refrigerator had officially gone from bare to pitiful.

After a shower I sat cross-legged on the bed while Elvis watched
Jeopardy!
, letting my damp hair air-dry instead of smoothing out the waves with the hair dryer. I opened my e-mail and looked through the file Grace MacIntyre’s detective had sent. I didn’t learn anything new. Everything he’d dug up on Arthur had ended up on the front page of the newspaper. My dad called halfway through the program. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to get any more information, either.

“Call me if I can do anything else for you,” he said. “Or if you need bail.”

I laughed. “I will, Dad,” I promised. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he said.

When I got to The Black Bear, Jess had already snagged a table close to the stage. “Hey, how was your day?” I asked as I slid onto the chair beside hers.

She was wearing her long hair smooth and sleek, parted in the middle, and her lip gloss matched her plum-colored sweater. “Great,” she said. “I found some fantastic vintage denim jackets in those boxes. Are you sure you want to sell them to me?”

I nodded. “We don’t have the space for them and that kind of thing really doesn’t go with everything else we sell.”

She smiled. “Okay, then. Thanks.”

I glanced around to see if I could catch sight of Nick anywhere. All I saw was a waiter threading his way over to us through the increasing crowd. He had a basket of nachos and a bowl of salsa, along with a glass of wine for each of us.

“I ordered,” Jess said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Absolutely. You know I’m a sucker for Sam’s homemade salsa.” I grabbed a chip. They were thin, crisp and warm. “What happened to your healthier lifestyle?” I asked.

“Salsa and chips are healthy,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve decided what I really need to work on is a healthier mind-set.” She made a sweeping circle around her head.

“How was your date?” I asked before I popped a chip in my mouth.

“Short.”

“Stature or duration?”

“Both,” Jess said, tucking her hair behind one ear and reaching for her wineglass.

“He’s a surgical resident. He got called back to the hospital before dessert.” She grabbed a chip, scooped up some salsa and ate the whole thing. “Umm, that is so good.” She gave a little groan of pleasure. “And he’s my height, so I guess he’s not that short by real-world standards.” Jess was five-nine in her socked feet and, like Liz, she usually wore heels, which made her closer to six feet.

I shot another look in the vicinity of the door.

“He’s not here,” Jess said.

I frowned at her. “Who’s not here?”

She took another sip of her wine before she answered. “Nick.”

I shifted in my chair so I was facing her. “How did you know I was looking for Nick?”

Jess tapped the side of her head with her right index finger. “Deductive reasoning,” she said. “You told me you saw Nick. You probably told him you were going to be here tonight. So he can pretend he’s coming for Thursday-night jam even though everyone in town knows he’s had a thing for you since he was fifteen.”

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open just a bit. “What do you mean everyone in town knows he’s had a thing for me?” Okay, so Nick and I had kind of made out a little that summer we were fifteen, but I’d never thought that meant he had a thing for me. Two weeks later he’d been in music camp, drooling over one of the percussionists, who had a big pair of . . . cymbals.

Jess shrugged and scooped up more salsa. “Okay, well, everyone but you.”

She was serious, I realized. For all of that teasing smile on her face, she was serious. I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.

I took a sip of my wine. “Why didn’t I know that?” I finally said.

“Because you don’t notice those kinds of things.”

“What kind of things exactly?” I said, running a finger up and down the stem of my glass.

“Men-women things.” Jess dragged another chip through the salsa and ate it.

“If you’re trying to say I don’t notice when some man tries to flirt with me, you’re wrong,” I said, reaching for another chip myself. “Every time I go to Noah’s for that organic cat food for Elvis, the guy who works behind the counter flirts with me. I notice that.”

Jess sank back against the chair, laughing. “Tyler is all of nineteen years old and he flirts with every woman who walks into the place. He’d flirt with his own grandmother if he thought it would sell a case of dog food.” She picked up her wineglass. “I mean you don’t notice when a man our age is interested in you.”

“That’s because there aren’t any men interested in me,” I said a little hotly. “Including Nick Elliot.” I knew I wasn’t as dense as Jess was making me out to be.

She tipped her head to one side and studied my face. “How many times have you seen Nick since the first time you saw him Monday afternoon?”

“He stopped by the store. So a couple of times.”

Her eyebrows went up but she didn’t say a word.

“He was worried about Charlotte. I told you that she and Rose and Liz are trying to help Maddie.”

“Uh-huh,” Jess said, fishing a chip out of the basket and breaking off a corner.

I made a face at her. “Nice try, but you’re not sucking me in. Nick and I have been friends forever and that’s all we are now.” That I’d thought about maybe kissing him when he’d walked me home after dinner was just a momentary aberration brought on by the fact that I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a date. And he hadn’t tried to kiss me. Which meant he wasn’t interested. The whole thing was meaningless, so meaningless I didn’t even need to tell Jess about it, I decided.

“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.