Софи Райан - The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

Behind me Jess made a noise that was part snort, part cat hacking up a fur ball. When I turned to look at her she wisely turned it into a cough.

I focused my attention back on Nick. I was humoring him, but it was also true that he could be charming and charismatic—when we weren’t arguing about something. And while I didn’t seem to be affected by his male pheromones, he did smell like Hugo, the same aftershave he’d been wearing when I French-kissed him at fifteen.

“Is this where I’m supposed to ask if you’ve been working out a lot more?” I reached over and squeezed his upper arm. And found more solid muscle than I was expecting. “Hey!” I said. “You have been working out more.”

“Softball season,” he said.

I ran my hand over his arm. “Very nice,” I said. This close the scent of his aftershave was heady and for a moment I felt like I was fifteen again.

The waiter came over then with our beer and I dropped my hand and straightened up in my chair. “Umm, good to know you’re staying in shape,” I said.

Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, well, I try.”

I reached for my glass and from the corner of my eye saw Jess give me a You’re so lame look. I had time for one mouthful of beer and two chips before Sam and the boys started making their way to the stage.

Close to an hour later Sam ended the set with a raucous version of Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock & Roll”—one of my favorite songs. I dropped into my seat and grinned at Jess. There was no way we wouldn’t have been up and dancing to that one.

Nick’s cell buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the screen and shook his head as he got up and moved away from the table. Whoever the conversation was with it was short. “I gotta go,” he said. He smiled. “Have a good night, ladies.”

“You, too, Nick,” I said. “Thank you for the beer.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. Then he was gone.

“What kind of a thank-you was that?” Jess asked. I knew that teasing gleam in her eye.

“What was wrong with it?” I asked.

“Why don’t you just grab him and lay a big wet one on him?”

I punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Who are you? Liam? Things aren’t like that with us.”

“How exactly are things with you two?” she asked, scooping up what seemed like a quarter of the bowl of salsa with another chip. “Are you just friends, pseudo brother and sister? Or something else?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s . . . complicated.”

“You always say that,” Jess replied. Her expression had changed from teasing to serious. “The two of you need to figure it out because it’s giving the rest of us a headache.”

Chapter 16

When I got to Second Chance the next morning Mr. P. was sitting in a lawn chair in front of the open garage door, having coffee with Mac. “Good morning,” I said, walking over to them.

“Good morning, my dear,” the old man said with a smile.

I set Elvis down. He made his way over to Mr. P., sat in a patch of sunlight next to his chair and began to wash his face. Elvis was very particular about his appearance.

“Morning,” Mac said, getting to his feet. He gestured at his mug. “Would you like a cup?”

“I would,” I said. “But I can get it myself.”

He smiled. “I know you can.” He started across the parking lot.

I sat down in the folding chair he’d vacated and turned to Mr. P. “I’ve been thinking about Davis Abbott,” I said. “Do you think that he could have hurt Leila and killed Erin?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” he hedged. “I did a little more digging around last evening. The young man has an assault charge that was dismissed during his college years. He’s an affluent cliché. He tried a number of things but didn’t master any, he likes to gamble a bit too much, seems to like hard work a bit too little, and he has parents who got tired of supporting a dilettante son.”

I shifted in my chair. Elvis stretched and wandered into the garage. “Why was the assault charge dismissed?” I asked.

Mr. P. shrugged. “It was a barroom argument that escalated and ended up outside on the sidewalk. It went away when the young man who was assaulted refused to testify.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A payout?”

“Yet another cliché but I think so.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“And you know all this because?” I wasn’t sure I should be asking the question.

“Social media can be very informative. Just because one deletes something doesn’t mean it’s gone. And Davis and Stephanie share a bank account. She’s been very forthcoming with respect to her finances.”

I’d expected him to smile, to say something light, but he didn’t.

“You found something else.”

He nodded. “I’m afraid I did.” The breeze ruffled what few wisps of hair he had and he patted them down with a wrinkled hand. “It turns out that Stephanie is one of those people who keeps her bank statements going back several years. And she and Davis share a bank account, as I said. He was in Boston the day of Leila’s accident. He used his debit card to buy gas.”

“Do you think Stevie knows he was there?”

“I don’t. I don’t think she would have scanned those bank statements for me if she’d known they could implicate Davis. I do believe she cares about him.”

“So he could have sabotaged the heating system?”

He looked at me with one raised eyebrow. “He has the expertise.”

Had Stevie’s partner tampered with the water heater in Mac and Leila’s house? Had Erin somehow found out? Could it have been Davis that Nick had seen talking to her down on the waterfront? I had too many questions and not enough answers.

“So now what?” I asked. “I mean aside from our upcoming visit to the salt works.”

Elvis came out of the building behind us, gave an offhand murp as he passed my chair, and headed across the parking lot.

“I do have the name of the hotel where young Mr. Abbott is staying,” Mr. P. said. “Perhaps we can pay him a visit at the end of the day.”

“Perhaps we can,” I agreed. I tipped my face up to the sun for a moment. “Do you have any idea why Davis is still here in town?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’d also like to know why he came here in the first place, and why he has stayed. And it is interesting that he got here the same day as Erin Fellowes did.”

Mac came out then with my coffee, stopping to hold the back door for Elvis. Mr. P. filled him in on what he’d learned about Davis Abbott. He was silent for a moment. “I would have said Davis isn’t capable of hurting Leila or, heaven forbid, killing Erin, but I’m beginning to see that I didn’t know any of these people as well as I thought I did.”

Mr. P. and I exchanged a look.

Mac shook his head. “Could we talk about something else, something normal?”

“Sure,” I said. I told him about Charlotte’s suggestion to look into offering classes at Legacy Place.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Mac said.

“I do as well,” Mr. P. said. “Despite Rosie’s opinion of the place it’s a beautiful building in an excellent location.”

Rose had gone to live at the seniors’ apartment building so her daughter, Abby, wouldn’t worry about her, but she’d complained that all the other residents did was talk about their ailments.

My phone rang then. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Avery. I frowned. “That’s odd,” I said. On occasion the teen would text me but I couldn’t remember the last time she’d called me.

“Hi, Avery,” I said.

“Oh good, you have your phone with you,” she said. “There’s kind of a situation going on.”