Софи Райан - Telling Tails

“I had a Chloe Sanders as a student,” Charlotte said. “She was on the debate team. Do you think it could be the same person?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I know she went to Cahill.”

“That sounds right,” she said.

I rattled off the phone number I’d memorized when Leesa Cameron had showed it to Michelle. “Will you see if you can contact her in the morning? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Charlotte nodded. “Of course.”

“You’re a pretty good judge of people, Sarah,” Alfred said. “What’s your impression of Mrs. Cameron?”

I sighed and played with my cup, turning it around and around in the saucer. “She seemed genuinely hurt and angry,” I said. “If she was lying, she’s a darn good actress. And it looks like she has an alibi. She said she was with her husband’s sister.”

Beside me Rose made a frustrated sound.

“I saw Casey, by the way,” I said. “He’s a beautiful dog.”

She smiled at that. “Yes, he is. Tomorrow I’m going to make him some dog biscuits.”

“For what it’s worth, Ashley Clark said she didn’t hear or see any cars go by right before the dog found you.”

“That’s because I wasn’t hit by a car,” Rose said. “If I had been, I’d have broken ribs or at least bruises on this part of my body.” She patted her midsection with one hand. I didn’t know anything about injuries from being hit by a car, but it made sense to me.

“There is one problem, though,” I continued. “Ashley says she saw Jeff Cameron’s vehicle go by about half an hour before Casey found you.”

Rose drank the last of her tea. She made a move to get up, but Charlotte immediately got to her feet and headed for the cozy-covered teapot on the stove. She poured a fresh cup for Rose and topped up her own. Mr. P. and I both shook our heads to more.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Rose said, reaching for the milk jug. “Did Ashley say Jeff Cameron was driving?” she asked.

I reached for another cookie. “No.”

“It doesn’t prove anything, then,” Charlotte said. “It could have been Mr. Cameron who was driving or it could have been someone else entirely.”

“So Detective Andrews will start investigating tomorrow?” Rose said. She added sugar to her tea and stirred. It seemed like an innocuous question, but I had a feeling Rose already knew the answer.

“Like I said, she’s going to check with the bank.”

“And?”

I pushed my cup back and shifted in the chair to face her. “And you already know the answer to that, Rose. The police aren’t starting any investigation. They don’t think there’s anything to investigate. As far as they’re concerned, Jeff Cameron left his wife and left town.”

Rose’s lips pulled into a thin, tight line. “So how does Detective Andrews explain what happened to me? What does she think happened? I hit myself over the head?”

I’d let myself get backed into this corner. There was no way out except to tell Rose what Michelle had said. I put both hands flat on the table and closed my eyes for a moment. It didn’t change anything.

“Michelle thinks that you might have had a small stroke and fallen and hit your head. You were dazed and you got as far as the Clarks’ house before you passed out. She . . . uh . . . thinks you should see a specialist.”

“What a load of balderdash!” Rose exclaimed, gray eyes flashing. “She thinks I’m some feeble old fuddy-duddy, doesn’t she?”

“She didn’t say that. I think she’s genuinely concerned about you.”

“Bull crap!”

It struck me that if Rose did have some kind of heart problem, she’d be having a stroke right now. Her hands were clenched and her face was flushed.

“Rosie, it wouldn’t hurt to go see a doctor,” Mr. P. offered.

I swung around to stare at him. He was leaning forward and he was frowning slightly.

“Alfred Peterson, you must have had a stroke yourself if you think there’s anything wrong with my brain,” Rose said.

“Rose Jackson, when was the last time you actually saw a doctor?” Charlotte asked. I could always count on her to be the voice of reason.

Rose looked up at the round red clock on the wall above the table. “About forty-five minutes ago,” she said tartly.

“And before that?” Charlotte countered, her voice quiet in comparison to her friend’s.

“I had my blood pressure and my blood sugar checked at that clinic at Shady Pines.”

“Those were nurses, not doctors,” Charlotte said. “When—other than about an hour ago—did you last see a doctor?”

“None of your business,” Rose snapped. She really didn’t like doctors. She went once a year for a physical checkup because Liz would nag her until she made the appointment and then show up on the day to drive her there.

“That’s what I thought,” Charlotte said. She brushed cookie crumbs into a little pile and swept them into her hand, dropping them onto her plate. “So make an appointment. Let the doctor check you out. It will prove to Detective Andrews that there’s nothing wrong with you and maybe”—she stressed the word—“ maybe the police will take a second look at what happened.”

It was a sensible, logical suggestion because that was the kind of person Charlotte was, but I knew Rose was not in the mood for sensible and logical.

Mr. P. nodded. “I’ll go with you.” He reached across the table for Rose’s hand, but she was already on her feet.

She looked from Alfred to Charlotte. “If Sarah had told you that she saw a body, neither one of you would be suggesting she see a doctor to have her head examined. I am deeply offended.” She stalked out of the apartment, back rigid, before either of them could say anything.

After a moment of silence Mr. P. got to his feet. I caught his arm. “Let her go,” I said.

“Rosie just got out of the hospital, Sarah. She shouldn’t be walking around in the dark,” he said.

“She isn’t. She didn’t even go outside. She’s in my apartment talking to Elvis.”

Mr. P. looked over his shoulder at the door. “I mean no disrespect, my dear,” he said. “But how can you be sure? She’s very angry.”

“Rose is wearing the fuzzy slippers Avery knit for her. It doesn’t matter how angry she is. She knows how proud Avery was when she made them. She’s not going to wear them outside. Right now she’s sitting on my sofa telling Elvis how mad she is at the two of you. And Michelle. And Liz.”

Charlotte took a drink from her cup and set it down again. She got to her feet. “Stay here, Alfred,” she said. “I’ll go talk to her. I’m the one who pushed her over the edge.” She looked over at me. “It’s not that I don’t believe her. I just don’t think it would hurt for her to go see her own doctor.”

I gave her a half smile. “I know that and so does Rose underneath her dramatic exit.” I looked from her to Mr. P. “Go home, both of you. Let me handle things. It will all look better in the morning. I promise.”

“You sound like Isabel,” Charlotte said, referring to my grandmother.

I smiled. “I wish she was here.”

Charlotte smiled as well. “Me, too.”

I stood up, brushing crumbs off my T-shirt. “Please. Go home,” I said. I turned my attention to Mr. P. “I promise I won’t leave Rose alone. I’ll sit by her bed and watch her sleep if I have to.”

Alfred managed a small smile. “That might be a little excessive, my dear,” he said.

“All right. We’ll go,” Charlotte said. She picked up her cup and saucer and Mr. P.’s and carried them over to the sink. Then she came back to the table. She patted Alfred’s arm. “Sarah is right. Rose needs some time to cool down, and I trust Sarah to take care of her.”