Софи Райан - The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

“You’re welcome, my dear,” he replied with a smile. He tipped his head to one side and with his few tufts of gray hair sticking up from his head he reminded me of an inquisitive bird. “You know, it’s occurred to me that we need a more permanent place for team meetings.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I said, surveying our collection of chairs for ones I knew wouldn’t collapse the second someone sat down.

“We could fit a table in the sunporch, you know.”

“It’s too cold in there in the winter.” I reached for two wooden chairs I knew were in good shape.

“That is a problem,” Mr. P. agreed. He put a hand on the back of one of the chrome chairs that went with the table and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. I nodded and he picked up the chair and the matching one beside it and carried them to the table.

“That’s why I’ve been thinking about renovating the space,” I said. I grabbed a couple of folding wooden chairs that were leaning against the back wall. That made enough seating for all of us.

A frown creased Mr. P.’s forehead. “What were you thinking about doing?”

“Nothing fancy,” I said. “Some new windows and some insulation in the walls.”

He nodded as he took one of the chairs from me and unfolded it. “That would certainly make that space usable all the time.”

It suddenly occurred to me that he probably thought the Angels were going to lose their office. “I mean more usable for you,” I said. “And Rose and the Angels in general.”

The frown faded. “Are you certain you want to spend money on a space you’re not using?” he asked.

I nodded, pressing on the seat of the folding chair to make sure it was open all the way. “Before you set up your office, that was just wasted space. We didn’t even us it for storage. And Liam will do the work so that will keep the costs down.”

“We’ll have to talk about an increase in our rent.”

A few months earlier when Rose and the rest of her crew had decided that they were going to pay me rent for the sunporch, I’d explained it was otherwise unused space and I didn’t need rent. Rose had countered that the subject wasn’t up for discussion. If I wouldn’t take their money they’d just have to look for office space somewhere else. I knew that was a very bad idea. So I’d given in.

I’d known that Mr. P. would bring up the rent issue as soon as he found out that I wanted to do some work in the sunporch so this time I was ready.

“I was hoping you might be amenable to bartering your services instead,” I said, adjusting the chairs so they were spaced more or less evenly around the table.

Mr. P. nudged his glasses up his nose. “What are you proposing?”

“Instead of raising the rent you do some background checks for me.”

“Background checks? Are you thinking about hiring more staff?”

I shook my head. “We’re starting to gain a bit of a reputation—a good one—for quality vintage guitars.”

He nodded. “Both you and Sam know your musical instruments.”

I smiled. I’d learned a lot about guitars from Sam Newman. He joked that he’s forgotten more than he knows, but experience had taught me that wasn’t true at all. “I’ve been approached a couple of times by people who have instruments to sell. In one case the guy just gave off a squirrelly vibe and I turned him down flat. But in the other instance, I kind of wish I’d taken the deal. But as Rose would say, I didn’t know the seller from Adam.”

A smile spread across Mr. P.’s face as the old man began to nod. “You’re looking for someone to vet the instruments and the people selling them.”

“Exactly.” And I was. This wasn’t a make-work project, not really. It was a deal that would benefit both of us.

“We’d have to agree on either an hourly or a per-instrument rate and how many hours you’d want to allow for our work.”

“Put together some ideas for me and we can talk about all that,” I said. Charlotte was coming in carrying a tray with the teapot and cups. Mac was behind her with the milk and the sugar bowl. Mr. P. nodded his agreement and I went to take the tray from Charlotte.

Once everyone but Mac had a seat and a cup of tea—or in the case of Mac and me (bless Charlotte) a cup of coffee, I looked at Liz, turning one hand palm up to the ceiling in a “voilà” motion.

She in turn looked at Rose. “Go ahead,” she said, taking another sip of her tea and nodding approvingly at Charlotte.

“There really isn’t any nice way to say this,” Rose began. Her gray eyes found Mac, leaning back against the workbench with his coffee, the way he invariably did when we had one of these gatherings. “We found evidence that Leila’s sister has been, well, running a scam is the best way to describe it.”

“What do you mean ‘running a scam’?” Mac asked. To everyone else I’m sure it seemed that he hadn’t been affected by Rose’s words. He continued to lean against the waist-high bench with one elbow propped on the wooden surface, coffee cup in the other hand. But I knew him well enough to see the tension just under the surface.

“She was substituting cheap ingredients for the pure, organic and more expensive ones Leila chose.”

Mac gave his head a shake.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said. “But we’re sure about this. I saw the invoices.”

“How?” I asked. I tried not to sound suspicious but I realized I probably did. The two of them had been known to stretch the rules from time to time.

Liz shot me a look that told me she knew what I was thinking. “How do you think?” she said, flipping a hand in the air. “Just because we’re not your age anymore doesn’t mean we still don’t have a few tools left in our toolboxes. And men have always been susceptible to a little charm.” She looked from Mr. P. to Mac. “No matter how old or young they are.”

At the same time Rose smiled and fluffed her hair. I got a mental image of Rose charming the owner of the salt works. The poor man probably had no idea what had hit him.

“She replaced the seaweed as well,” Liz said.

“Did you charm that information out of someone?” I asked.

“I can be charming,” she said. “But direct works, too.”

Rose gave her friend an indulgent smile. “Liz found out where Natalie has been buying her cut-rate ingredients.”

Liz shrugged. “Never underestimate a pissed-off man with a willing ear to listen to him.”

Rose still had what I thought of as Elvis-just-ate-a can-of-sardines smile on her face.

Charlotte picked up the teapot and poured Rose more tea. “Thank you,” Rose said.

Charlotte smiled at her friend.

“There’s something else you haven’t told us,” I said.

Rose added a little milk and a bit of sugar to her cup before she answered. “Natalie will be in Maine on Saturday to visit one of her cut-rate suppliers.”

Mac and I exchanged a look. “That’s an incredible coincidence,” I said.

Rose’s expression was suddenly all innocence. I wasn’t fooled. “The supplier has some new product for Natalie to look at—a onetime, short-term deal,” she said.

Liz on the other hand looked smug.

“What did you do?” Charlotte said. She was looking at Liz, not Rose.

“The squeaky wheel gets the grease so I might have greased some wheels.” Liz reached for the teapot.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Charlotte said.

Liz just shrugged.

“We’ll be there Saturday to talk to Natalie,” Rose said.

“I’m driving,” I said firmly.

“Fine with me,” Liz said over the rim of her cup.

Rose turned to Mr. P. to ask what she’d missed while she and Liz were gone.

Charlotte shook her head at Liz. “Liz French, I don’t know whether to hug you or smack you with a rolled-up newspaper.”