Софи Райан - No Escape Claws

“Why would I bring something for you?” she asked. “Have you done anything to deserve a treat?”

“Yes,” I said, squaring my shoulders and tossing my hair. “I’m a joy to be around. I spread sunshine wherever I go.”

“You spread something,” Liz said. “I’m not sure it’s sunshine.” She glanced at the top of the stairs. “Do you have a couple of minutes?”

I nodded. “Sure. I was going to call you.”

We headed up to my office. I got Liz a cup of tea and a fresh cup of coffee for myself. The bag from McNamara’s held two blueberry muffins.

“So what’s up?” I asked.

“I had supper with Channing last night,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at me and pointed one French-tipped finger at my face. “And don’t start with me, Miss Sunshine.”

I broke my muffin in half. “How’s Channing?” I asked.

“Fine,” Liz said. “He found some more interesting information about Gavin Pace.”

“How interesting?”

“He couldn’t find a job for several months after he lost his. It turns out Sam’s pub and the school weren’t the only places his wife chose to make a scene. Word got around.”

“So he has some incentive to keep this job,” I said. The muffins were good. I licked a bit of blueberry from my thumb.

“A little more than you’d think,” Liz said. “He’s still in a probationary period. He could still be let go.”

“So he lost his job and Gina kept hers, at least for a while.”

Liz took a sip of her tea and nodded. “And from what Channing could find out Pace is up to his eyeballs in debt from his divorce.”

The office door moved and Elvis came into the room. He launched himself up onto the desk and settled himself on one corner. “Mrr,” he said to Liz.

“Hello, cat,” she said.

“Do you think he might have blamed Gina for any of what happened?”

“Try all of what happened.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Channing talked to a couple of people who used to work with young Mr. Pace, all on the understanding that what they say would stay off the record.”

I nodded.

“It seems that he was pretty vocal about putting the blame for all of his problems squarely on Gina. Sounds like a motive for murder to me.”

I wasn’t sure, although I tended to agree with Rose’s assessment of Gavin Pace.

“Rose and Mr. P. are talking to someone who lives near the Pearsons’ former house,” I said. “Maybe she’ll remember seeing him.”

“I think we’re going to have to pay him another visit.”

I nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Liz asked.

I explained what I’d learned from John at supper the previous night.

“I knew there was something off about those so-called projects,” she said.

“I think you should tell Wilson what’s going on,” I said. I realized I was beginning to sound like a broken record on that subject.

She waved my suggestion away. “And let the culprit get away with it because my brother can’t keep his mouth shut? I don’t think so. I do have an idea, though.”

I popped a piece of muffin in my mouth and made a go-on gesture with one hand.

“I’m going to get in touch with Marie’s son. Marie was a meticulous record keeper. She kept Wilson’s files just so and I know she kept a journal. Maybe she kept some kind of notes, maybe she wrote about what was going on.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I said.

Liz drank the last of her tea and got to her feet. “Bring Rose and Alfred up to date, please,” she said.

I looked at my watch. “They should be here anytime now.”

“I can’t stay,” she said. “I’ve got places to go and things to do.”

“Is one of those things Channing?” I asked. A crumpled paper napkin whizzed past my head as she left.

• • •

I knew the moment Rose and Mr. P. walked in that they’d had some kind of success.

“So what did you find out?” I asked as Rose took off her sweater and unwound the gauzy scarf from around her neck.

“Well, Denise makes a lovely zucchini bread,” Rose said. “She uses pecans instead of walnuts.”

Denise.

I was pretty sure she was the woman who lived near the Pearsons, the former girlfriend of the son of the senior Casanova who had lived in Rose’s old apartment building. Or something like that.

“I’ll, uh, remember that,” I said. “Did she recognize Gavin Pace?”

Rose shook her head. “No, she didn’t.”

Then why did she look so pleased? It had to be more than just the pecans in the zucchini bread.

“But she did remember seeing a homeless man wandering around the neighborhood,” Mr. P. said. “It seems he relieved himself in someone’s yard and the police came and rousted the man.”

“And you think he may have seen something?” I said.

“Yes I do,” she said, brushing a bit of sparkly thread that had probably come from her scarf off of the front of her pale yellow top. “I suspect that being homeless, just like being old, means people don’t really pay attention to you. So who knows what he might have seen?”

I straightened a pillow in the tub chair and brushed a clump of cat hair from the seat, making a mental note to ask Avery to give the chair a good vacuuming. “But how are we going to find this man? Were there any security cameras?”

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Rose said airily. “And no, as far as Alf could find out no one had a security camera. But I called Nicolas. There should be some kind of report since the police were called. The man, whoever he was, would have had to have given them his name and told them where he lived. We’ll find him.”

She seemed confident and I hoped Nick came through for her.

“Liz was here,” I said. I told them what Channing had unearthed about the precariousness of Pace’s job.

“I knew he wasn’t being straight with us,” Rose said. “Everything he said was nothing more than twaddle.” She looked at Alfred and me. “I think another visit to that young man is in order.”

It was about a half hour later and I had just finished selling an iron bed frame and helping the customer fit it into the back of her car when Nick pulled into the lot.

“Hi,” he said, walking over to me.

“Hi yourself,” I said. I studied him for a moment. “I know that look. You found Rose’s homeless man.”

“In a way.”

I brushed a bit of dirt off the front of my gray pants. “What does ‘in a way’ mean?”

“Is Rose here?” Nick gestured at the shop. “I’d rather just tell the story once.”

“She’s here,” I said. “When I came out she was showing a customer a set of dishes. By now she’s probably sold him the dishes and the flatware.”

It turned out Rose had sold the man dishes, flatware, a tablecloth and napkins. He was just walking out with two large paper shopping bags. Avery was with him carrying a large cardboard box.

Rose turned to Nick, a gleam in her gray eyes. “What did you find out?” She beckoned to Charlotte, who was fitting pale pink tapers into a cut-glass candelabra. She joined us, still holding one candle.

“What about Alfred?” I asked.

“He’s in the office with Liam,” Rose said.

“Liam’s here?” I said. I seemed to be losing control of my day.

“He just got here.” She gestured toward the street. “He found a blackboard.”

“A blackboard? What for?”

“The office, dear,” she said with just a hint of impatience in her voice.

I decided to stop while I was ahead. A bit confused but ahead.

Nick cleared his throat. “First of all, your homeless man wasn’t—isn’t—homeless.”

Rose frowned. “But Denise said he relieved himself on the rhododendrons across the street from her house.”