Софи Райан - Telling Tails

I pictured him shaking his head and probably raking a hand back through his hair. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Jess will.”

I laughed, leaning back in my desk chair. “Yep. She probably will.”

“I still don’t think Rose and my mother and the rest of them have any business getting involved in Michelle’s cases,” he said with just a little I know I’m right -ness in his voice.

“I get that,” I said. I didn’t add that that was the problem. “More importantly, though, was Rose drugged?”

“She was. Methohexital. They found very small amounts of it in her blood.”

I couldn’t help it. “I knew it!” I said, pumping my fist in the air.

“She was attacked,” Nick said. “I should have listened to her. I should have listened to you . I’m sorry.”

I took a moment before I spoke. “I know you are. Maybe from now on just try to keep an open mind when it comes to Rose and the others.”

“I am trying, Sarah,” he said quietly.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I know.”

“I already gave everything to Michelle. You’ll probably hear from her. And if anyone was helping Leesa Cameron, we’ll find them. I promise you that.”

“Do you know yet how she died?” I asked. I didn’t really expect him to tell me.

“The autopsy hasn’t been done,” Nick said. “But you saw the vodka bottle.”

“And the pill bottle.”

“Sleeping pills. She had a prescription for them.”

“What about Jeff Cameron?”

“C’mon, you know I can’t tell you that.”

I didn’t say anything. Nick sighed. “He drowned.”

“Drowned?” I whispered.

“He was hit over the head first.”

“That would explain why there was no blood in the kitchen.”

“It answers some questions and it raises others,” he said.

I knew it would be pushing it to ask what he meant. I thanked him for calling and said good-bye.

I’d just come back from the staff room with a cup of coffee when my phone rang again. I leaned over to check the screen. It was Michelle.

“Hi, Sarah. Did Nick call you?” she asked.

“About five minutes ago,” I said.

“So you know what the blood tests show.”

“He told me about the traces of the drug they found.”

“Rose was attacked and I dismissed what happened as just her being old,” Michelle said. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “Rose will, too.”

“We’re still investigating, and I won’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”

“Then, as Gram would say, ‘You learned something.’” I took a sip of my coffee. “And I don’t want to sound like some public service announcement, but you weren’t completely off base. Most strokes happen in people over sixty-five, which Rose is, and more women have strokes than men. You could have been right.” It was easy to be magnanimous when I’d been proved right.

“I could have looked at all the possibilities, not just one.”

“So you do that next time. C’mon, Michelle. You know there’s going to be a next time with Rose and the rest of them.”

She laughed then. “There probably will be.”

“So,” I said. “I know you can’t give me any details about your investigation, but can you at least tell me if you think it will be wrapped up soon?”

There was silence and I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she said, “Honestly, Sarah. I don’t know.”

There wasn’t much more to say after that. I thanked her for calling and promised to be in touch if the Angels came up with anything. I went downstairs and found Rose out in the sunporch with Mr. P. I came up behind her and put my arms around her shoulders. “I talked to Nick,” I said.

She turned her head and looked up at me. “And?”

“And there were traces of methohexital in your blood.”

A triumphant smile spread across her face.

“So someone did drug Rosie?” Mr. P. said.

I nodded.

“We wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t seen the needle mark on my neck,” Rose said. She leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment before I let go.

“That was mostly luck,” I said.

“Maybe,” Mr. P. said. “You’re also very observant, Sarah.”

“I will admit I do like being vindicated,” Rose said, “but I don’t know how this information is going to help us.”

I rested a hand on the table Mr. P. was using as a desk. “Nick said dentists often use the drug because it acts quickly and the effects only last for a short period of time.”

“Leesa Cameron was a buyer for a chain of stores,” Mr. P. said.

“No one has any connection to any dentist,” Rose said.

I shook my head vigorously in frustration. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“So do I,” she said.

I tapped the back of my head with three fingers. “There’s something back here. I just can’t pull it out.”

“Give it time,” Mr. P. said with a smile. “You know what they say about two heads being better than one.”

I held up one hand and ticked off the fingers. “All right. But really, there’s you, Rose, Liz, Charlotte and me. If two heads are better than one, what are five?”

“A basketball team,” Rose said.

I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I have work to do,” I said and started for the store.

“Love you, sweetie,” she called after me.

“Just because you were vindicated doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep having a regular checkup once a year.” I stopped and turned back to look at her standing in the doorway.

“Don’t you have to get back to work, dear?” she asked sweetly.

I pointed a finger at her. “This conversation is not over,” I said.

She blew me a kiss and disappeared back into the sunporch.

It was a quiet morning at the shop, no bus tours and few tourists coming off the highway, probably because it was raining and people just wanted to get wherever they were going. Just before lunch I called Sam to see if I could get a second opinion on Mac’s accordion. Liz had already threatened to show up at two a.m. with the other accordion he’d given to Avery and play Queen’s “We Will Rock You” outside his bedroom window.

Mac had laughed and Liz had patted his cheek. “It’s fricking cute how you think I’m kidding,” she’d said.

Sam was in his office when I got to the pub. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk, his dark-framed glasses halfway down his nose.

“Knock, knock,” I said.

Sam looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said. “That was fast.”

“The shop’s quiet,” I said, pulling off my raincoat and draping it on the back of a chair. I set the bag with the accordion on the sofa.

Sam came around the desk and gave me a hug. “Where did you get an accordion anyway?” he asked.

“Mac,” I said, “and actually it was two accordions.” I told him the story of Mac helping Glenn move his uncle’s couch and being offered the accordions or the growler of beer.

Sam laughed. “From what I know of Clayton’s place, you could probably fill your store twice over, with enough stuff left for a good-size storage unit.”

“I know,” I said. “And it may come to that. I’m putting a proposal together for Glenn and his cousin for us to get the house a little more habitable.”

“Good luck with that,” Sam said. “Clayton has always been a bit of a pack rat.

He lifted the accordion out of the shopping bag I’d put it in. I leaned against his desk while he turned it over and examined the instrument from every angle. Finally he looked at me. “So what were you thinking?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Somewhere between four and five hundred.”