Софи Райан - No Escape Claws

“Gina Pearson,” Liz said. “The woman you had an affair with.”

The muscles along his jawline tightened. “I don’t discuss my personal life with clients,” he said stiffly. He set the pen down on the desk and got to his feet.

Liz stayed seated, crossing one leg over the other as though she was prepared to sit there all day. “I’m not your client,” she said, her tone conversational as if they were simply chatting about the weather. “However, I am the chairman of the board of the Emmerson Foundation and former chairperson of the Midcoast Chamber of Commerce. I know every business owner in a fifty-mile radius of this office.”

Pace understood what she was getting at. He sat down on the corner of the desk, pushing a pile of paper out of the way. A file folder toppled to the floor. He ignored it. “Gina Pearson is dead.”

“I know that,” Liz said. “What I don’t know is what the relationship was like between the two of you.”

He shrugged. “You said it yourself. We had an affair. I’m not proud of it.”

Liz didn’t say anything. I’d seen her do that before.

After a moment he made a face. “Look, we were both drunks then. There’s no other word for it. The affair destroyed my marriage. I left my job because I needed a new start. We weren’t in love. There was no relationship.”

“You must have been very angry at Gina,” I said. “Her marriage did survive and she didn’t have to leave her job the way you did.”

He glanced over at me. “For a while yeah, I was pis—pretty mad at her. But in the end, no one made me pick up a drink. And no one made me get involved with Gina, either.”

“When was the last time you talked to her?” Liz asked.

“I don’t know,” he said after taking a moment to seemingly think about it. “A couple of months before she died. That was, I guess what you’d call an eye-opener for me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I glanced at Rose. Usually she wasn’t this quiet. All I could see was the back of her head.

He rubbed the side of his face with one hand. “I mean, she looked like she was living on the street. It was like she hadn’t been sleeping. The coat she had on just hung on her; she was so damn skinny, like someone who had an eating disorder or something. I couldn’t get the picture of her out of my head. I stopped drinking cold turkey. I’m sober. I go to the gym. I’ve got a pretty decent relationship now with my ex. So I guess in a way you could say she did me a favor.”

“So you didn’t see Gina the day that she died?” Liz asked.

Pace reached across the desk and straightened his pen, which had rolled sideways almost to the edge. It struck me that it was a gesture to buy time before he answered. “Like I said, the last time I saw Gina was a couple of months before she died. If I’d seen her again I would have told her to get some help. In fact, I wish I had seen her. Just maybe she would have listened. I don’t know.”

That was pretty much the end of the conversation. Pace didn’t bother walking us out.

No one said anything until we were in the car. I shifted in my seat to look at Liz.

“Well?” I said.

“That young man has only a passing acquaintance with the truth,” she said as she fastened her seat belt.

I nodded. “I agree. He was definitely lying. Did you notice how he kept pausing before he answered? And how he touched his face and straightened his pen?”

“What I noticed is that he couldn’t look me in the eye for any length of time,” Liz said.

“I saw that too,” Rose chimed in from the backseat.

“I think it’s possible Mr. Pace might be drinking,” I said. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions but he smelled like mouthwash and breath mints. It was kind of overkill.”

“Oh, he’s definitely drinking,” she said.

I turned around to look at her. “Did you notice the mints and mouthwash, too?” I asked

“Actually no dear, I didn’t,” she said. “But I did notice the half-empty pint of vodka in the bottom-left-hand drawer of his desk.”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Very nice, Rose,” Liz said with an approving smile.

“I’m not certain but I believe it was pickle flavor.”

I grimaced. “That just sounds wrong,” I said, not that I knew anything about vodka.

“How did you notice that bottle and we missed it?” Liz asked, looking over her shoulder.

“You were both paying attention to Mr. Pace,” Rose said. “I wasn’t. And I’m little so people tend not to pay attention to me. He closed that desk drawer pretty quickly, but I did see the bottle.”

“Do you think Gavin Pace could have killed Gina and set that house on fire?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. He has a rather weak chin and yes, I know that speaks more to genetics than character.”

I looked at Liz. “What do you think?”

“I think he went out of his way to lie to us. He’s hiding something.” She gave a sly smile. “Let’s find out why and what.”

Chapter 12

On the drive back to the shop we decided the next step was to ask Mr. P. to get in touch with Molly Pace and see what she could tell us about her former husband.

“Do either of you know anyone who lives on the Pearsons’ street other than the judge?” I asked. “It would help if we could find out if anyone remembers seeing Gavin Pace around the time of the fire.

Liz shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone,” Rose said.

“I thought you two knew just about everyone in town,” I said.

“Not everyone, dear. I can’t keep up with all the grandchildren.” She leaned forward. “Can you, Liz?”

Liz waved a hand in the air. “Good heavens, no. And I don’t always get to the Chamber of Commerce meetings, although in my defense Monday is a terrible night to have them.”

I wasn’t sure how the Chamber meetings were connected, but I was afraid that if I asked Liz might tell me.

“You know, I could ask Elspeth,” Liz said. “She might know someone.”

“And doesn’t Charlotte know somebody at Shady Pines who used to live in that area?” Rose asked.

I stopped at the corner before turning onto our street, clearing my throat loudly at Rose’s referring to Legacy Place, the senior citizen’s apartment complex where she had once lived, as Shady Pines.

“Oh sweet girl, I think you’re coming down with something,” she immediately said. “Is your throat scratchy?”

So this was how we were going to play it.

“My throat is fine,” I said.

“You can’t be too careful this time of year,” she said. “Once the children go back to school all sorts of terrible bugs start making the rounds.” I could hear her fishing in her bag. Then she tapped me on the shoulder.

“Here, dear. Try this,” she said. Something dropped into my lap.

I glanced down. It was a Fisherman’s Friend lozenge.

“Pop that in your mouth. It’ll cure whatever you might have picked up.” Fisherman’s Friend were Rose’s cure-all for everything—extra-strong menthol lozenges that would make a cough lie down and surrender and clear every sinus cavity in your head.

It was impossible to miss the challenge in her eyes.

“Well, put it in your mouth,” she said. “It won’t do you any good sitting on your lap.”

“Let me help you,” Liz said.

From the corner of my eye I watched her unwrap the cough drop. The gleam in her eyes told me she was enjoying this way too much.

“Hold out your hand,” she instructed. I took my hand off the wheel long enough for her to drop the lozenge into my palm. I popped it into my mouth.

“Thank you,” I said. My eyes immediately began to water. Point, set and match to Rose, with an assist to Liz.