Софи Райан - Telling Tails

“I’m cute,” she said with an offhand shrug. “And I tip better than you do.”

Nick ordered a cheeseburger and our usual chips and salsa, which we had winter or summer.

“And one of those?” Tina asked, pointing at the beer bottle in Jess’s hand.

Nick made a face. “Sadly, I’m on call. Just coffee.”

“Good choice,” she said. She looked at me. “Another decaf?”

“Please,” I said.

“And one for me, too, please,” Jess added.

“It shouldn’t take long,” Tina said.

Nick leaned an elbow on the table. “So tell me, what are the Angels’ theories about where Jeff Cameron is?”

“I’m not answering that question,” I said. “It’s just going to make you crazy if I tell you.”

He gave me that little boy smile that after all the years of using it on me shouldn’t have worked so well but often did. “Oh, c’mon, Sarah. Give me a break. I’m trying. I didn’t say one word to Rose about getting involved in this case.”

“Seriously? You didn’t?” Jess said, skepticism clearly in her expression and her voice.

He turned to look at her, narrowing his brown eyes. “You’re not helping.”

She pointed a finger at his face. “It’s so adorable how you think I was trying to.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she managed to keep it in check.

A different server appeared at the table with Nick’s coffee, along with a pot of decaf and a heavy stoneware mug for Jess. I waited until he’d filled both of our cups before I answered Nick. “Okay,” I said. “Rose and the others actually have two theories and they’re working on both of them. One is that Leesa Cameron killed her husband.”

“I thought she has an alibi.”

“Alibis can be faked,” Jess said, adding cream to her mug.

“Yes, Leesa Cameron has an alibi, but it’s just the word of one person at the moment,” I added.

“What’s the other theory?” Nick asked.

I hesitated, reaching for a packet of sugar to buy a bit of time.

“Oh, c’mon, Sarah,” he said. “Tell me.”

“Jeff Cameron faked his own death,” I said flatly.

I waited for him to laugh. To my surprise he just nodded.

“Wait a minute, you’re not going to tell me how preposterous the idea is?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Because it’s not. People have faked their deaths before. The problem is they tend to slip up in some way—they contact someone in their old life or their story makes the news and they get recognized. So if that’s what happened, there’s a good chance he’ll get caught.”

Jess leaned sideways out of Nick’s line of sight and winked at me. I ignored her even though I was happy to see that Nick was trying to be less judgmental when it came to the Angels’ detective agency. He’d been blindsided when Mr. P. had met all the state’s requirements, become a licensed private investigator and taken Rose on as his apprentice. He seemed to think his mother and her friends should spend their time baking cookies and holding fund-raisers for the library.

Tina came back with Nick’s food and the chips and salsa just as Sam and the rest of The Hairy Bananas came from the back and headed for the small stage. We didn’t talk after that, although more than once Nick and I did sing—along with a lot of other people—much to Jess’s amusement. Nick was actually a very talented guitar player and a couple of times had sat in for a few songs with the band. Anyone who could play was welcome to join the guys, although it didn’t happen very often. Sam had asked me to join them, but I hadn’t practiced in a long time and I’d never been as good as Nick anyway. I liked to play mainly because it made me feel closer to my dad. My guitar had been his, lost for years after his car accident.

The band ended their first set with a rocking version of Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s “Takin’ Care of Business.” Classic rock songs were the most popular with the pub’s clientele.

Jess got to her feet. “I see someone I need to talk to. Do you want anything?”

I shook my head.

“How about you, Dr. Feelgood?” She nudged Nick with her elbow.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said.

I turned so I was facing him. “When are you going to bring your guitar and sit in with Sam?” I asked.

He swiped a hand over his chin. “When I have some time to practice first.”

“You know every single one of the songs they just played.”

He grinned. “I’ll bring my guitar if you bring yours.”

I shook my head. “No way. I don’t play nearly as well as you do.”

“‘Peaceful Easy Feeling,’” he said. The Eagles song was the first one he’d taught me to play after I’d gotten my dad’s guitar.

When I didn’t say anything he bumped my leg with his knee. “You could play that with your eyes closed.”

“And I’ll sound like I’m playing it with my eyes closed,” I retorted.

“I’ll bring my guitar over and we’ll practice it together.” He leaned closer. “It’ll be fun.” His breath was warm against my cheek and I could smell his aftershave. Catching the scent always seemed to take me back in time.

It would be fun, I knew, playing with him again. Nick had finally agreed to come running with me, and the times we’d been out I’d laughed myself silly, mostly because he ran like a black bear chasing a picnic basket. “I’ll think about it,” I said.

He straightened up and gave me a triumphant look.

I waggled a finger in his face. “No, no, no! Don’t think you’ve won any kind of victory. I said I’d think about it. Think. That’s all.”

He just kept grinning at me.

“I’m changing the subject,” I said. “Any idea when you might get the results of Rose’s blood tests?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “More likely it will be Monday.” He shrugged. “Once we get those results we’ll have a better idea of what happened to Rose.”

“What would make someone set up another person for murder?” I asked, reaching for my mug.

“Anger and revenge are the top two reasons.”

“As far as I know there was no reason for Jeff Cameron to feel that way about his wife,” I said. Jess was making her way back to the table.

Nick nodded. “Yeah, that theory does have more holes than a colander, but like I said, once we get Rose’s blood work maybe we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on.”

For a moment I couldn’t move. Then I carefully set my mug back on the table. It was that or break it over Nick’s head, and I knew Sam wouldn’t be happy about the latter. “What did you say?” I asked. To my surprise my voice sounded perfectly normal.

“I said there are a lot of holes in the Angels’ theory,” he said.

“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You said their theory had more holes than a colander.”

Nick looked at me blankly. “Uh-huh. It’s the thing you drain spaghetti in. It has holes in the bottom.”

“I know what a colander is,” I said.

“So what’s wrong?” he asked. “Because I can see that something is.”

What had Michelle said to me on the phone about that blood work? “Maybe that will clear things up.” Now I understood exactly what Nick’s agenda had been.

Jess had reached the table, but instead of sitting down she stood by my chair. She was five-nine in her sock-covered feet, at least two inches taller in the heels she was wearing, and I felt as though I had a Valkyrie beside me.

“At lunch today your mother said the same thing; their theory had more holes than a colander.”

Nick flushed and his mouth twisted to one side.

“She told you what to say to me.”

He shook his head. “No.”

I raised my eyebrows but didn’t say anything.