Софи Райан - The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

I used the edge of my T-shirt to blot the sweat from my neck. “We did, but I’m not sure if it means anything. Liz said that sometimes ideas were floated that didn’t go anywhere, but at least it’s somewhere to start.” Liz was adamant that there was no point in telling Michelle about John’s possible connection to those budget inconsistencies until we’d had a chance to talk to him. I had (very) reluctantly agreed.

Michelle nodded. “Thank you for helping. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

I smiled at her. “You don’t have to tell me and I’m glad you’re willing to let me help. Liz and I are going to start sounding out the people who were involved with the Emmerson Foundation during the time your dad was camp director.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

I set my take-out cup on the bench and pulled on the thin nylon rain jacket. “We aren’t going to tell them what we’re looking for. If someone set your father up it would be bad to tip that person off. So we’re going to say that Liz wants to put together a history of the foundation.” I picked up my cup and we headed for the stairs to the main floor of the building.

“You think people will believe that?”

I noticed that Michelle hadn’t taken a single sip of her own coffee. She was holding on to the cup almost as though she’d forgotten she was supposed to drink what was inside. “Liz can sell anything,” I said. “And I actually think she’s considering the idea for real.”

“And when we find the person who set up my dad that can be part of the story.”

I nodded. I wondered if Liz and Michelle were right. Was Rob Andrews wrongly convicted or did he do what he was accused of? Either way I knew Michelle wouldn’t get what she was really looking for because her dad would still be gone. But I wasn’t going to lose this chance to be a better friend to her.

We walked down to the entrance and as if she could read what I was thinking Michelle bumped me with her hip. “I mean it,” she said. “Thank you for getting involved in this whole thing. Thank you for being there for me. I owe you.”

“Hey, how many times have you been there for me, especially since the Angels began their business?”

A cloud seemed to pass over Michelle’s face. “Nick told me that he admitted to you that he’s the witness that saw Mac with Erin Fellowes.”

“He saw someone with the same build as Mac, wearing a similar sweatshirt, that Erin may, may have called Mac—not exactly a neon arrow with a sign saying ‘killer’ pointed at Mac’s head.”

“I know,” Michelle said.

My surprise had to show on my face. “You do?”

Michelle nodded. “A decent attorney, like Josh, for instance, could get that ID tossed very easily. Nick didn’t see the man’s face and he was far enough away that it would be easy to argue that he didn’t hear what he says he heard.” She held up one hand. “We’re still investigating so it doesn’t mean Mac is in the clear.”

“What about that security camera footage Mr. P. found?”

“There’s still a big enough window, timewise, that Mac could have gotten downtown and killed Erin.”

“He didn’t kill anyone,” I said.

Michelle finally took a sip of her coffee and then made a face. The coffee had to be cold now. “I really want to believe you’re right,” she said.

We said good-bye and I headed home to change and collect Elvis. He refused to move beyond the apartment door and I had to shield him inside my raincoat to get him to the truck.

Rose didn’t come in until late morning. She was dwarfed by the oversize yellow slicker and big green gum rubber boots she was wearing. I took her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the back door where it could drip and not leave a trail of puddles through the building.

“I think even the ducks would find this a little too much,” Rose said, smiling at me.

“You set me up,” I said, skipping all pleasantries.

Rose didn’t even try to play innocent. “Yes, I did. Nicolas, of all people, asked for my help. Nicolas! Do you really think I was going to say no to his request when it’s something I want as well? You know me better than that.”

I folded my arms over my chest. I was angry, I reminded myself. At least I had been. All of a sudden I couldn’t seem to muster up any of the righteous indignation I’d felt before. Rose was smiling at me, and all I could think about was how much they all wanted Nick and me together and yet it never seemed to happen. “What if it’s not what I want?” I said, as much to myself as to her.

Rose picked up her canvas tote, which she’d set inside a clear plastic shopping bag. “Oh, that’s fine,” she said, “but you can’t take forever to decide.” She patted my cheek as she moved past me. “You know what Liz likes to say, sweet girl—‘Pee or get off the pot.’”

Liz called about fifteen minutes later to say she was bringing lunch so we could all talk about our progress such as it was. It was getting to be something we did whenever the Angels had a case.

The rain had let up a little by the time Liz arrived, but she was dry under a gigantic blue-and-white-striped golf umbrella. Her concession to the rain was a pair of bright yellow pumps instead of open-toe sandals. No green gum rubber boots for her.

She handed me a paper shopping bag and I made a mental note to add it to our stash of bags behind the front counter. It was just the right size to hold one of Avery’s teacup planters. I peeked inside the bag although my nose had already told me what was inside—pasta pesto salad from Sam’s and breadsticks.

As usual Avery would watch the shop while the rest of us ate and hashed over the case so far. As she got her food she looked around. “Can I ask a question?” she said.

Liz shot her a look.

Avery rolled her eyes. “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “ May I ask a question?”

“Of course,” Mr. P. said, wisely choosing to ignore the sarcasm that had laced her voice.

She looked at Mac. “That woman who got killed—I heard Sarah say that her message to you was that she believed you, right?”

Avery never missed anything.

“Yes,” Mac said.

I found myself nodding.

“That means she believed you didn’t try to kill your wife anymore, but she did before, because what else could it be?”

Again Mac agreed.

Avery picked up her plate, grabbed a piece of corkscrew pasta and popped it in her mouth. “So what happened so that she changed her mind? Maybe if you could figure that out you could figure out why someone wanted to kill her.”

She headed for the front.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Mr. P. said softly.

“Follow the money,” Liz commented, pouring a cup of tea from the pot Rose had made and brought downstairs. Would anything get done if we ran out of tea? I wondered.

“What money?” Rose asked.

Charlotte had just dished out a plate of pasta. She handed it to me. “You mean the money in the trust.”

Liz nodded. “Yes. It’s too much of a coincidence that Leila’s part of the trust is going to be released soon and Stevie needs money.”

“Stevie wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Leila,” Mac said. He seemed to have that sentence on permanent repeat.

“And I thought she had an alibi,” Charlotte said.

I looked at Mr. P. “She does. The photos she sent me were not doctored in any way I could determine. In one Stephanie is visible and there’s a clock in the background showing the time. She pretty much has an ironclad alibi.”

Liz waved a breadstick at us. “So? What about her partner or husband or whatever he is?”

“Davis Abbott,” Mr. P. said.

“Yes, whatever his name is,” Liz said dismissively. “It seems to me that he would also benefit if Leila were dead and Stevie got all the trust instead of half of it.” She looked at Mr. P. “Alfred, what exactly do we know about this Abbott person?”