Софи Райан - The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

“As I recall, Stephanie told us that Davis had been in Nova Scotia for some sort of workshop on organic farming techniques. Did she lie to us or did he lie to her?” Mr. P. asked.

“I know you’ll figure it out,” I said.

He smiled, his previous outrage gone. “I’ll see what I can find out about that workshop.”

“Keep me in the loop,” I said. Rose and I walked through the workroom toward the shop.

“Stevie and her partner are tied up in this somehow, aren’t they?” I said.

“I’d like to say I think you’re wrong but at this point I’m just not sure.” Rose gave her head a little shake. “Both of them certainly seem to be lacking as far as good judgment is concerned.”

I nudged her with my hip. “I have faith that you and Mr. P. will figure out what’s going on.”

“That reminds me,” she said, raising one finger in the air, “Liz and I are going to the salt works in Marshfield tomorrow. I switched shifts with Charlotte.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. It was the most diplomatic way I could think of suggesting I should go with them. Rose and Liz together on a road trip could get very . . . interesting.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Rose said with a smile. “Liz and I can handle this. Clayton explained the process and he told me what questions to ask.”

I frowned at her. “I remember when Charlotte and I talked to Clayton about harvesting seaweed but I don’t remember any conversations at all about sea salt, with or without you.”

Rose was patting her pockets, looking for something, her phone or her keys probably. She looked up at me. “Oh, I called Clayton. I had some questions.”

“What are you trying to find out?”

She seemed to find whatever she’d been looking for in the right-hand pocket of her skirt and gave a small nod of satisfaction. “It occurred to me that if du Mer was being investigated for fraud it might have to do with ingredients. The sea salt seemed the logical place to start.”

“That’s a good idea.” I held the door so Rose could move into the store ahead of me. “You think Erin Fellowes’s murder is somehow connected to Mac’s wife’s accident, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Both Alfred and I do.”

“Because?” I nudged.

She reached over and brushed a bit of lint off my shoulder. “Well, dear, it’s really the only logical conclusion.” She held up one finger. “First of all, we know she wasn’t mugged because she had her money, her credit cards and her cell phone.”

I nodded. “True.”

Rose held up a second finger. “And secondly, there hasn’t been an assault on the harbor front in two years and that was just a couple of young men who’d indulged way too much.”

“Also true,” I said. “Is there a number three?”

Rose smiled and patted her hair. “Of course there is. Alfred and I never rush to judgment.”

I decided to just let that go unchallenged.

“The only person Erin Fellowes knew in North Harbor was Mac,” she continued.

“As far as we know, yes.”

“Their connection was Mac’s wife, who’s now in a coma, which Erin blamed on Mac.”

I wasn’t having any trouble following her logic. Everything she said made sense.

Rose cocked her head to one side, looking like a tiny, white-tufted bird. “Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence that just a few hours after she got here—after she told you to tell him she believed him—that she ended up dead?”

“I do,” I said, because I did. “There’s no faulting your logic.”

She smiled again. “I’m not just another pretty face, you know,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

I grinned and gave her a hug. “You absolutely aren’t,” I said.

• • •

Rose and Liz left just before eight the next morning. Liz dropped off Avery when she came to pick up Rose. Once Avery was out of earshot, on my sofa talking to Elvis, I propped my chin on Liz’s shoulder. “Don’t stop for strangers, don’t speed and remember to wear your seat belt,” I said with a teasing smile.

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, missy,” she said, reaching up with one hand to give me a light smack on the forehead.

“Did you have one of Avery’s green smoothies for breakfast?” I asked, lifting my head.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Luckily the child adores Mac, so no, I did not have a glass of green sludge for breakfast. I had a scrambled egg, English muffin and a bowl of berries.” She gave me a warning look. “And before you ask, no I don’t need to visit the washroom.”

“You know what Gram would say,” I teased. “Never turn down a chocolate chip cookie or a chance to pee.”

Liz made a face at me. “It think that was more likely Rose and not Isabel,” she said.

“And do you know the way to where you’re going in Marshfield?” I asked sweetly, reaching over to straighten her collar. She had to know what I was up to. When I’d driven up to Carrabassett Valley to see Stevie Carleton Liz had reminded me to check my tire pressure, carry a bottle of water and wear my seat belt.

Liz batted my hand away. “I’d be happy to tell you where to go.”

I laughed.

“I heard all about your lead foot from Rose and Alfred,” she continued. “So don’t get the idea you have some kind of superior driving skills. I’ve driven on the autobahn. I think I can find Marshfield just fine.”

I’d driven with Liz and I knew compared to her I was the proverbial, poky little old lady behind the wheel. I wrinkled my nose at her. “People who live in glass houses,” I said.

“Shouldn’t walk around the house naked,” she finished.

Rose came out of her apartment then, which effectively ended the conversation—not that I was going to win against Liz, anyway.

“I just have to grab my bag and my keys and I’m ready,” I told Avery after Liz had pulled away from the curb. “Do you want to stop at McNamara’s for a muffin and lemonade?” I asked.

She was holding Elvis and he immediately murped his agreement. “Please,” she said. “Only, could I have hot chocolate instead?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said.

“I have money,” Avery said. “Nonna told me not to be a freeloader.”

“I appreciate that,” I said as I locked the apartment door. “But this is my treat.”

We stopped at Glenn’s and chose the blueberry muffins that were still a little warm. I got a cinnamon raisin muffin for Charlotte and orange spice for Mac. Glenn made Avery’s hot chocolate and it smelled so good I decided to have the same thing, telling myself the day wasn’t that warm yet.

“I should have the proposal for Clayton’s house soon,” I told Glenn as he dropped three marshmallows on the top of my drink.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling as he handed me the cup. “Clayton seems to be getting enthusiastic about the idea. He’s even talking about moving in to town.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that one,” I said. “I think he talked to Rose about Legacy Place.”

“Oh, he did,” Glenn said. “Pretty much the only thing he cared about were how many good cooks there were in the building.” He laughed. “You can probably tell from looking at him that Clayton likes to eat. He’s the personification of ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

It was another gorgeous day and the shop was quiet. I sent Avery back to the workroom to cover more lampshades with the stash of old maps I’d bought at a yard sale. The shades had turned out to be popular. Charlotte and I started dusting and making small changes in the front window display. Avery was still working on a couple of ideas for changing the display entirely.

While we worked we talked about my idea for offering classes similar to the one I’d taught at Legacy Place, the one where I’d met Mr. P.—as Charlotte put it—“just the way the good Lord had made him” for the first time.