Софи Райан - No Escape Claws

I looked at Mallory.

“All right,” she said. “But if he won’t take it back—”

“__then I’ll call my friend who is a police detective and you can tell her what you just told us.”

“Okay,” she said.

I looked at Charlotte. “We can handle things here,” she said.

I went back inside, told Rose and Liz where I was going and promised Charlotte would fill in the blanks. I went upstairs and grabbed my purse and keys. When I came down Liz was waiting at the bottom of the steps.

She raised an eyebrow. “Need a sidekick, Warrior Princess?” she asked.

I had once gone with Liz to confront businessman Daniel Swift at his office, which ironically had been located in the same building as Judge Halloran’s law office. She’d been fierce that day and I’d nicknamed her Xena after the heroine of the campy ’90s TV show. This time it seemed I was the Warrior Princess.

Xena had Gabrielle. I had Liz.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We took my SUV. “Do you mind if I make a quick stop at Glenn’s for a cup of coffee?” I asked. “I never did get one when we got back from Rockport.”

“It’s fine with me,” Liz said. “And it’s probably better that we don’t go see the judge when you’re down half a quart of caffeine.”

“Charlotte told you what happened?” I asked, slowing down for the stop sign ahead.

“She did.”

From the corner of my eye I could see that she was eyeing me. “You don’t think those two are stretching the truth just to get their father out of jail?”

I shook my head. “No. I think if they were, well, lying, they would have done it a lot sooner.”

“The same thing occurred to me,” Liz said.

I shot a quick sideways glance at her. “If you’d seen Mallory’s face when she thought she had a way to get her father out of jail . . . I don’t think she was acting.”

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Even though I’d decided to keep my suspicions to myself for the time being about Mike having been set up, I was having second thoughts. “I need your opinion on something,” I said.

“That’s what a sidekick is for.”

I suddenly remembered what Gram had said about Rose wanting to find the perfect table at Sam’s when I was teasing her about how we’d all conspired to get her and John together. She wanted to make sure John saw us.

“I think it’s possible that someone set Mike up, wore the same ball cap as he did and made sure to be seen by Judge Halloran.”

“I thought that might be what was in your mind when you asked what he looked like,” she said. “The problem is, young Mr. Pace was sleeping it off in a jail cell, Ben Allison was with his daughter and a dozen other witnesses and Molly Pace wasn’t even in town.”

I blew out a breath.

“You have someone in mind,” Liz said. “Don’t you?”

“Ben Allison has an alibi. His wife doesn’t.”

I glanced at Liz again.

She was nodding her head. “It makes sense. Gina Pearson almost killed that child.”

“Jia Allison keeps all her anger in here,” I said, tapping the middle of my chest with a loose fist. “When it gets out I think she could be capable of anything.”

“So what are you going to do?” Liz asked.

I pulled to the curb in front of McNamara’s. “For now I’m going to see if I can float the possibility to Judge Halloran that the person he saw wasn’t Mike Pearson. After that I need to talk to Jia Allison.”

Glenn was at the counter when we stepped inside the little bakery and sandwich shop. “Perfect timing,” he said with a smile. “I have two lemon tarts left.”

“I actually came for coffee,” I said. “Large, please.”

Liz put a hand on my arm. “Let’s not be hasty,” she said. “Glenn will think we don’t like his lemon tarts. Do you want to hurt his feelings?”

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “Do you want to hurt my feelings?”

“Fine,” I said. “One large coffee and two lemon tarts.” I looked at Liz. “Would you like anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Glenn nestled the two tarts in a small cardboard box. “Sarah, I keep meaning to say thank you for taking on Clayton’s place. It’s a hell of a lot more livable since you cleared it out and sold all that stuff.”

“Clayton was easy to work with,” I said. “We have a few more things left on consignment—a lamp, a couple of chairs and some dishes. They should sell once the leaf peepers show up.”

Glenn smiled. “Most of those dishes belonged to Mary.”

“Clayton’s wife,” Liz said.

He nodded. “Beth took a few pieces for sentimental reasons, but it’s just not her taste. I’m glad things will at least be with people who appreciate them.”

Beth was Glenn’s cousin, Clayton’s only daughter. She didn’t live in North Harbor.

“She had a good eye for things,” I said.

“Mary could set a table so it looked like something from a magazine,” Glenn said. “And cook a meal to match.” He shook his head. “It was so cruel. When her mind went, the first thing she forgot how to do was cook. She’d get out all the ingredients for a cake and not know what to do with them.”

“She had dementia?”

He nodded. “I’d go to see her and she’d call me Clayton. That was one of the first things we noticed. She kept mixing people up.” He handed me my coffee. I paid for it and the lemon tarts and we left.

We got back in the SUV and I set my coffee in the cup holder after taking a long drink. I looked at Liz. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

She nodded. “I am.” She looked sad.

“So what do we do?”

“What we set out to do. Get some answers.”

I thought about something else Gram had said at dinner: You can’t get the right answers if you don’t ask the right questions.

Chapter 17

I didn’t really have a plan for what I was going to do when I got to the judge’s office. Luckily he had been as good as his word as far as helping with the nonexistent book project. His receptionist smiled at us. “Hello, Mrs. French, Ms. Grayson,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.” She was wearing a crisp white blouse with three-quarter-length sleeves. The fuchsia streak was still in her hair.

“Hello, Chelsea,” Liz said. “Would the judge have a few minutes for us?”

Liz knew the young woman’s name. That didn’t surprise me.

“Let me check with Mr. Davis,” Chelsea said.

She reached for the phone, had a brief conversation and then hung up. “He’ll be right out,” she said.

It was no more than a minute before Henry Davis came into the reception area. “It’s good to see you both again,” he said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t call first,” I said.

“You caught us on a quiet day,” he said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

He knows , I thought. I was willing to bet every visitor, not just us, saw Henry Davis first. He was more than an assistant. He was a protector.

“I don’t know if you remember, but that last time we were here the conversation turned to a man named Mike Pearson,” I said.

Henry stiffened. It was almost imperceptible but I was watching for a reaction and I saw it. “I remember.”

“The judge is certain he saw Mike the night the Pearson house burned down.”

“The judge’s word is beyond reproach.”

“No one is questioning Neill’s word,” Liz said.

I looked down at my hands. I felt as though I was shaking but they were steady. The sensation was all on the inside. “He also called me Isabel,” I said.

Henry had recovered his equanimity. “It seems you resemble your grandmother.”

“A little. I do,” I said. “But that’s not why the judge got my name wrong, is it?”