Софи Райан - Telling Tails

I reminded myself that Nick loved Rose. She was family to him just as much as she was to me. He was loyal and protective and funny and kind and a lot more. And there was something wrong if I always had to be reminding myself of that, I thought as I joined them again.

Michelle arrived then, pulling her car in next to Nick’s truck. She walked over to us. “How are you feeling?” she said to Rose.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Rose said. She patted her white hair. “I guess I am as hardheaded as I’ve been told I am.”

“Well, this is one of those times I’m glad about that,” Michelle said. “I hope it’s all right that I asked Nick to join us.”

“Of course it is,” Rose said. “We’re always happy to have Nick around, aren’t we, Sarah?”

Nick swiped a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.

“Always,” I agreed, “especially when he brings muffins from McNamara’s.” I smiled sweetly up at Nick, hoping he’d get my reference to a past disagreement we’d had when he’d apologized with one of Glenn’s muffins.

“So you’re suggesting I should stop in at McNamara’s the next time I’m headed here?” he teased.

“You’re so thoughtful,” Rose said. “We all like Glenn’s blueberry muffins, but this time of year the rhubarb streusel muffins are hard to say no to.” She smiled at him.

Michelle had a hard time not smiling as well. “Is Mr. Peterson inside?” she asked.

I nodded and we started across the lot to the back door. Mr. P. got to his feet as we stepped into the sunporch. “Hello, Detective Andrews,” he said, offering his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m interested in what you’ve learned,” Michelle said, dipping her head in the direction of his laptop.

Mr. P. smiled up at Nick. “Hello, Nicolas,” he said. “Are you joining us?”

Michelle immediately spoke up. “I asked him to. I hope it’s all right.”

“Of course,” Mr. P. said. He quickly explained what the Angels had learned about Jeff Cameron, how he’d changed his name and walked away from his life after his grandmother died. How no one had seen him with any other woman in North Harbor.

“His name was Hennessy?” Michelle said. She seemed to be taking what he’d told her and Nick seriously.

Mr. P. nodded. “Two ‘s’s,’ two ‘n’s,’” he said.

“Do you have a theory as to where Jeff Cameron is right now?” she asked.

“We have two,” he said. “One is that he’s dead. The other is that he set up his wife to make it look like he’s dead, although we don’t have any idea why.”

Nick’s and Michelle’s cell phones both rang then. “Excuse me,” she said, pulling hers from the pocket of her cotton sweater and turning around so her back was to us. Nick had already stepped out of the room to answer his.

The conversation was brief. Michelle’s face was expressionless when she faced us again. “Well, Mr. Peterson, I’m sorry to tell you that one of your theories is wrong. Jeff Cameron definitely didn’t fake his death.”

My heart sank. Nick was putting his own phone back in his pocket, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“What makes you so sure?” Mr. P. asked, although I suspected he knew the answer, too.

“A couple of rock climbers on Johnson’s Reach found him. I’m sorry. He’s dead.”

Chapter 14

“Dead,” Rose repeated, and not in the form of a question.

I saw Nick’s gaze flick in her direction.

“The poor man,” she said quietly. I was probably the only one who saw the knowing gleam flash for a moment in her gray eyes.

“I have to go,” Michelle said.

“Thursday?” I asked, referring to Thursday night jam at Sam’s.

“I’ll try.” She pushed past Nick. “See you there?” she asked.

He nodded. “I just need a second.”

She nodded and left. Nick caught my arm and drew me out by the back door. “I have to go. Are we okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “Go.”

He hesitated.

“Go,” I repeated. This time he went.

I rejoined Rose and Mr. P.

“Johnson’s Reach is a couple of miles from the Camerons’ cottage,” Rose said. “How did his body get there?”

“I don’t know,” I said, scraping a couple of spots of sage green paint off the back of my hand. “Michelle will figure that out.” I couldn’t help thinking that it was a heck of a lot closer to Clayton McNamara’s house, which added credence to Glenn’s recollection of having seen Jeff on Thursday.

“Sarah’s right,” Mr. P. said, sitting back down and opening his laptop.

I had a feeling Michelle wouldn’t be the only one working on how Jeff Cameron had ended up at Johnson’s Reach.

“Before I go, did you find out anything about Michael Vega?” I asked.

Mr. P. shifted in his seat to look at me. “As Jess told you, he’s a massage therapist and he has several clients that he trains.”

“Leesa Cameron was one of them.”

“Yes,” Rose said.

“All of Mr. Vega’s clients are women,” Mr. P. added, “not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Anything”—I struggled to think of the best word to use—“improper happen with any of his clients?”

“Oh no,” Rose said. “Mr. Vega is by all accounts a gentleman.”

“No one has an ill word to say about the man,” Mr. P. said. “He’s so clean he squeaks.”

He and Rose exchanged a quick glance.

“But,” I said. I pointed my finger at them. “You found out something.”

“Maybe.” There was caution in Mr. P’s voice. “Michael Vega ordered a woman’s BodiBudi last month.”

I frowned. “A what?”

“A BodiBudi,” Rose said. “A fitness tracker.”

“You think he bought it for Leesa Cameron.”

“We know he did,” Mr. P. said. “The online account associated with that particular BodiBudi is registered to her.”

“How do you know all this never mind,” I said, running the words together. I pulled a hand over my neck. “Do you think they were involved?”

Mr. P. looked at Rose. “I think we need to talk to him.”

She nodded.

“Me, too,” I said. “Let me know when.”

* * *

Mac and I were looking at paint after lunch, trying to settle on a color for the rocker, when Avery stuck her head around the door. “Hey, Sarah, Nonna just called me. She wants you to call her. She tried your cell but you didn’t answer.”

“What does she want?” I asked.

Avery gave me a blank look. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Go call Liz,” Mac said. “We can figure this out later.”

I went up to my office and called Liz back. “Hi,” I said. “Avery said you called.”

“Nicole Cameron called me,” she said. “She wants to see us.”

“Us?” I said.

“Rose. You. Me.”

“Why?”

“Don’t have a clue,” Liz said. “I think it has to have something to do with her brother’s body being found, though.”

“It probably does.” I looked at my watch. “I could bring Rose and meet you there later this afternoon.

“Nicole suggested four o’clock. Will that work?” Liz asked.

“I can make it work.”

“Thank you, darling girl,” she said. Elvis had come upstairs and jumped onto my desk. I hung up the phone and reached over to stroke his fur. “Something’s up,” I said.

He wrinkled his nose and looked up at me.

“I don’t know, either,” I said.

* * *

Rose and I pulled to the curb in front of Nicole Cameron’s house about five minutes before four o’clock. The kids at the house across the street appeared to be making another movie. “Is the little boy wearing the two bath mats supposed to be Bigfoot?” I asked Rose.

“I think so,” she said, “although I think one of his feet just fell off.” She pointed at a large fuzzy slipper at the edge of the driveway. “Ask Alfred what they’re doing.”