Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

“No problem,” she said.

I moved over to Mac and Alfred. They were studying the top section of what looked to me to be a wooden clock case. “Let me see what I can do,” I heard the older man say. He looked up at me and smiled.

Mac turned around. “What’s up?” he asked.

Before I could answer, the bell rang at the back door. I held up a finger. “Hang on,” I said.

Teresa Reynard was at the door. “Hello, Sarah,” she said. “It’s after one thirty.”

“Yes, it is,” I said. By my guess it was less than five minutes after. “Please come in.”

She stepped into the back entry. Her thick mass of curly hair was loose as it usually was. She was wearing work boots and her hands were jammed in the pockets of her brown canvas jacket.

“You said in your text that you wanted to talk to me about Edison Hall.” Teresa was a very literal-minded person, far more so than Paul Duvall.

I gave her a small smile. “Yes. My friends are trying to find out what happened to the man whose body was found at the house.”

“I didn’t kill him,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t think you did,” I said. I led her into the workroom.

“Hello, Teresa,” Mac said. His eyes met mine. “I’ll get Rose,” he added softly as he passed behind me.

“Teresa, this is my friend Alfred Peterson. He’s a private investigator.”

Mr. P. smiled. “Hello, Teresa,” he said.

“Hello,” she said. “Sarah said you wanted to ask me some questions about the man who died at Mr. Hall’s house.”

“Yes, I would,” Mr. P. said. He gestured at a stool. “Would you like to sit down?”

Teresa shook her head. “No, thank you.” She studied him for a moment. “Are you a real private investigator?” she asked.

The question didn’t faze Mr. P. “Yes, I am,” he said, nodding. He pulled out his wallet and took out some kind of ID I didn’t even know he had. He held it out to Teresa, who studied it carefully and then nodded before handing it back.

Rose came in from the shop. “Hello, Teresa,” she said.

Teresa frowned slightly. “Are you an investigator, too?” she asked.

“I’m learning,” Rose said.

“You’re an apprentice?”

Rose nodded. “Yes.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Teresa. “What did you want to know?” she asked. She hadn’t moved. She was still standing, feet slightly apart, hands in her pockets.

“You know who Ronan Quinn was?” Mr. P. asked.

“Yes.”

Alfred waited for a moment and then seemed to realize Teresa wasn’t going to say anything else.

“You know someone killed him,” Rose said.

Teresa’s expression didn’t change. “I’ve heard people talking. I think it’s probably true.” She looked at me. “I already told Sarah I didn’t kill him.”

“My dear, when were you last at Edison Hall’s house?” Mr. P. asked.

“Tuesday, last week.”

“Why?” Rose asked. She smiled at Teresa.

If Teresa was unsettled at all by the questions, it didn’t show. “I was there to get what belonged to me.”

Rose and Mr. P. exchanged a look. “And what was that?” he asked.

“A metal moose.”

“You mean a toy?” Rose asked, frowning.

“No,” Teresa said. “A metal moose.” She pulled her hands out of her pockets and held them about three feet apart.

Mr. P. smiled as he seemed to figure out what she was talking about. “Like the old sign markers along the trail to Moose Lake?” he asked.

“Not like one of them. It is one of them.”

“If it was yours, why was it at Edison Hall’s house?” I asked.

Teresa shifted and looked at me. “Because he cheated me.”

“Cheated you how?” Rose said.

“He was at a flea market, selling some gas station signs.” She shook her head. “Nobody wants those anymore. I heard him tell someone that he had other signs in his garage, so I asked if I could see them.”

“He said yes?” I asked.

Teresa nodded. “I picked out six signs that I wanted to buy. We settled on a price. I wrote it all down. People aren’t always honest.” She looked at me. “I don’t mean you, Sarah.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“How did Edison cheat you?” Mr. P. asked.

“I didn’t have enough money on me,” Teresa said. “I had to go to the bank. When I got back, he had the signs wrapped in an old blanket.” She pressed her lips together. “I counted to make sure all the signs were there, but I should have looked at each one.”

“Bait and switch,” Rose said softly.

“He replaced the moose with something else,” I said.

“A sign for the Moose River Lodge,” Teresa said. “He’d shown it to me. I didn’t want it, but he said it was the one I picked. He lied.”

“So you were trying to find it,” Mr. P. said. He gave Teresa a sympathetic smile.

“It was mine,” she said. “I paid for it. I tried to find it before, but I couldn’t.” She looked at me again. “I knew you would be starting to work at the house and I didn’t have any way to prove to you that the sign belonged to me.”

“Your word is enough for me,” I said.

“The sign belongs to me,” Teresa said. “I paid for it.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her left pocket and held it out to me. I took it from her.

It was the handwritten receipt she’d created. The signs and the prices she had offered were listed in Teresa’s square, block printing. Her signature was at the bottom. What I took to be Edison Hall’s signature was underneath.

I offered the piece of paper to Rose, who looked it over, frowning, and then gave it back to Teresa.

“I believe you,” I said again. “I’ll talk to Stella. If we find the sign I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“When you got to Edison’s house that morning, what did you do?” Mr. P. asked.

“I parked my van at the corner,” she said. “And then I walked back to the house.” Her eyes weren’t quite focused on Alfred. It was almost as though she was running down a list of what she’d done in her head. And for all I knew, maybe she was.

“I wanted to look in the garage,” she continued. “There was an old folding door leaning against the side window and I couldn’t see anything, so I went around to the back.”

“You didn’t see the moose sign,” Rose said.

Teresa shook her head. “No. It was too dark inside the garage. And it didn’t look like the signs were in there anymore.”

“Did you get inside the garage?” Mr. P. asked.

“No,” Teresa said.

Another look passed between Mr. P. and Rose. “Why not?” he asked.

“Because Mr. Quinn showed up.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “It was maybe quarter to six in the morning and Ronan Quinn was at Edison Hall’s house? You’re certain?”

Teresa blinked at me. “Yes,” she said.

“What was he doing?” Rose asked.

Teresa shrugged. “Waiting, I think.”

“Waiting for what?’ I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Luckily Mr. P. was better at phrasing questions than I was. “Why did you think he was waiting?” he asked.

“Because he parked his car in the driveway, got his briefcase out of the backseat, and then he went around to the back of the house. He stood by the door and looked at his watch.”

“Did you see anyone with Mr. Quinn?” Rose asked.

“No,” Teresa said. “I went back to my van.”

Rose sighed softly and I touched her shoulder. “Did you see anyone on your way to the van?”

Teresa nodded. “I passed a man walking up the sidewalk.”

“Was he old or young?” Mr. P. said.

She thought for a moment. “Younger than you are but older than Sarah.”