Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “Your agency is out of business.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rose replied. “We just got new business cards.” She took a couple of steps over to the table they were using as a desk, picked up a small cardboard rectangle and handed it to him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “but you’re not a licensed private investigator. The state has rules.”

For a moment I didn’t know what to do with my hands because I was pretty sure I couldn’t follow my first impulse for what to do with them, which was to slug him in the arm.

Rose moved closer to Nick and I took a step closer to both of them in case she decided to slug him, but all she did was pat his arm and give him a smile of pure condescension. “I know that, dear,” she said. “But I don’t own the agency. Neither does your mother. Alfred does. And he is a licensed private investigator.”

Rose turned to Mr. P. and beamed and he beamed right back at her.

Nick’s mouth gaped like a goldfish that had jumped too high and had suddenly found itself outside the fishbowl.

Liz caught my eye over the top of Rose’s head and winked at me.

“I’m over twenty-one and I’m an American citizen,” Mr. P. said, squaring his shoulders with just a bit of pride. “I have no criminal record and I passed the exam with flying colors.”

“Alfred has an excellent memory,” Rose added.

Nick pulled a hand across his mouth. “It’s not possible,” he said. “You don’t have any experience in law enforcement.”

“Chapter eighty-nine of the Maine Revised Statutes, section 8105, 7-A, experience, paragraph D,” Mr. P. recited. “A person is qualified to be a licensed private investigator who possesses a minimum of six years of preparation consisting of a combination of: work experience, including at least two years in a non-clerical occupation related to law or the criminal justice system; and educational experience, including at least: an associate degree acquired at an accredited junior college, college, university or technical college in police administration, security management, investigation, law, criminal justice or computer forensics or other similar course of study.”

“I told you he has an excellent memory,” Rose said.

I wondered how long it had taken Mr. P. to commit that legalese to memory.

A flush was creeping up Nick’s face from his neck.

I’d been annoyed that he’d shown up planning to ambush Rose, but now I felt bad that he’d been the one ambushed instead. On the other hand, it wouldn’t have been happening if Nick would just stop trying to make Rose and the others do what he wanted.

“I have a four-year bachelor’s degree in computer science with a specialty in computer forensics,” Mr. P. continued. He gave a sly smile. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

I could see Liz smirking at me out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look in her direction because I knew if I did I was toast.

“And I’ve been working with the Legal Aid free clinic for the last three years, doing research and computer work,” he finished.

Nick’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“And I’m Alfred’s investigative assistant,” Rose said. “In another sixteen weeks I’ll have all my training hours completed.” Her gray eyes met Nick’s and there was a clear challenge in them.

Behind her Liz waved a hand. “I’m their executive assistant. Think of me as Della Street.”

I figured it wasn’t a good time to point out that Della Street had been secretary to Perry Mason, a lawyer, not a private investigator.

“So it’s lovely of you to be concerned about us,” Rose said. “But we’re just fine.”

Her hand had been on Nick’s arm the entire time. Now she gave it a squeeze and let go. “Is there anything else you need, dear?” she asked.

“No. There isn’t,” he said, his words as tight as the muscles in his jaw.

Rose leaned around him and looked at me. “I’ll be right out, Sarah.”

“Take your time,” I said. “Avery’s here. There was some kind of water main break and the school flooded. They sent them home early.”

“Please tell me that my granddaughter had nothing to do with that water main break,” Liz said dryly.

“She didn’t.” I was pretty sure she hadn’t.

I caught the back of Nick’s jacket and gave it a tug. He turned and shot me a dark look.

“Rose, would you start on those parcels when you’re ready?” I asked.

“Absolutely, dear,” she said. She was being very gracious in her victory.

Nick followed me out. He didn’t say a word as we walked through the workroom. It was as if there were a black storm cloud over his head. As we stepped into the shop, I bumped him with my hip. “As Jess would say, pony up, little buckaroo.”

He glared at me. “Did you know?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Alfred Peterson is a licensed investigator. How the hell did that happen? You know he’s worse than some teenage hacker.”

“No, he’s not,” I said. “Mr. P.’s not stealing people’s identities or unleashing a virus that shuts down everyone’s computers.”

He made a face at me.

And I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “They beat you,” I said. “Liz, Rose and Alfred. And your mother. Three old ladies and a little old man who wears his pants up under his armpits beat you fair and square.”

“Crap!” he muttered.

I gave him a push. “Go to work. Go to Sam’s and have lunch.”

“This is going to complicate your life just as much as it does mine,” he warned, fishing his keys out of his jacket. The hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you for your concern,” I said. “Go.”

He went.

Mac had been on the phone. He hung up and walked over to me. “I’m guessing Rose looks better than Nick does,” he said.

“She set him up,” I said. “Short version?”

“Please.”

“Nick tried to shut them down because they’re not licensed by the state. However, it turns out Mr. P. has in fact become a licensed private investigator and is acting as Rose’s supervisor, so everything is legal and aboveboard.”

Mac grinned. “They planned this, didn’t they?”

“For months, probably. Mr. P. even had the relevant section of the law memorized and he quoted it to Nick.” I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh, remembering the look on Nick’s face as the older man had rattled off sections and paragraphs.

A customer checking out a sideboard along one end wall of the shop looked around for assistance.

Mac caught the woman’s eye and nodded. Then he leaned in toward me. “Keep that positive attitude, Sarah,” he said. “Because we’re now sharing space with an honest-to-goodness detective agency.”

Chapter 4

Mr. P. drove home with Rose and me at the end of the day. They were planning on working on the case for a while after supper.

“Did you make Alfred a cake?” I asked as I fastened my seat belt in the parking lot.

Beside me Rose looked a little confused. “No,” she said. “But I have some oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“They’re my favorite,” Mr. P. chimed in from the backseat. Elvis meowed his agreement.

“I meant, did you make a cake to celebrate him getting his investigator’s license?”

Rose had the good grace to blush. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I glanced over at her and then put the SUV in gear and started across the lot.

“That was my suggestion, Sarah,” Mr. P. said from the backseat. “It’s been a while since I was a student. If I hadn’t passed the certification exam and we’d had to work under the radar, I wanted you to have plausible deniability.”