Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

Then Caulfield said, “The model train I’m looking for is mine.”

“So, what was Edison doing with a toy train belonging to you?” Liz asked. Our waiter appeared at her side then with a fresh pot of tea. I had no idea how he knew she needed a refill. I hadn’t seen her so much as lift a finger—or an eyebrow.

Caulfield smiled, shifted sideways in his chair and crossed one gray-suited leg over the other. “Years ago I bought a steam engine and several cars from another member of the train club—Duncan Merriman. Edison also bought some pieces from him.” He glanced toward the front window for a moment. “Merriman was in the early stages of dementia.”

“He sold the same train to both of you,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. It was part of a club layout. When I went to get it I discovered that Edison had beaten me to it.”

“But you had a receipt.” The steam rose from the china teapot as Liz poured more tea.

Channing Caulfield laughed and ducked his head. “The fact that you’re asking me that question tells me you know I didn’t.”

Liz raised her eyebrows over her cup but didn’t say anything.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Edison asked me the same question Liz just did. When I couldn’t show him a receipt, he gave me some nonsense about possession being nine-tenths of the law.”

“The Hatfields and McCoys,” Liz murmured.

“We’d been . . .” He paused, searching for the right word. “. . . discussing the issue for years. Last year Edison told me he wanted to make a layout for his grandchildren. He offered me a bottle of wine from his collection. I agreed. It seemed as though things were settled satisfactorily.”

“Then you found out that Edison’s entire wine collection was worthless,” I said.

“Including the bottle he’d given me.” Caulfield gave me a wry smile. “It was all just by chance really. I was in McNamara’s and I recognized Quinn from the article in the Boston Globe . We started talking. He told me he was looking into another case of fraud, here in town. He didn’t say who, but after he left Glenn McNamara said Quinn had been hired to appraise Edison Hall’s wine collection. I put two and two together.”

Liz tipped her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “I don’t suppose you happened to use that bottle to kill Ethan Hall’s wine expert, did you?” she asked.

“Liz,” I groaned.

The former bank manager didn’t seem the slightest bit ruffled. “No,” he said. “What would that have accomplished?”

Liz had crossed her own legs and one high-heeled foot bobbed up and down. “I don’t know,” she said. “And I’m not saying you did kill the man, I’m just asking if you did.” She smiled at him, and I could see why Channing Caulfield, and men half his age for that matter, was captivated by her. She’d just accused Caulfield of killing someone and he wasn’t at all offended. Of course she was showing a lot of leg at the moment—and she had great legs—and that was capturing at least some of his attention.

“I didn’t kill Mr. Quinn,” Caulfield said. “I’d never even met the man. On the contrary, I was hoping he’d be able to figure out who had defrauded Edison. Rumor had it that’s why he was still in town. My attorney has advised me that it would be possible to file a civil suit if there wasn’t enough evidence for criminal charges.”

“So, what were you doing lurking around Edison’s house the morning Mr. Quinn was killed?” Liz said.

I turned to glare at her.

“Don’t give me that look, Sarah,” she said. “I’m planning on having a slice of Aggie’s maple custard pie in a few minutes and I’m not planning on continuing this discussion while I’m eating it.”

I looked at the former bank manager. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Liz and Stella Hall are friends, which I’m hoping explains her bluntness.” I sent another frown in Liz’s direction. She didn’t look the slightest bit repentant.

He leaned over and gave me a conspiratorial wink. “It’s all right, Sarah,” he said. “I’ve known Liz for a long time. This isn’t the first time she’s been so . . . forthright about something.” He looked over at Liz. “I heard that Sarah and her staff were going to be clearing out Edison’s house. Since the wine Edison gave me turned out to be worthless, as far as I’m concerned our agreement is void. I was hoping I could find my train.”

Caulfield had been trying to do the same thing as Teresa had: take back what he believed belonged to him.

“What happened?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing. When I got to the house Quinn was standing by the back door. I waited for a couple of minutes to see if he’d leave. When he didn’t, I realized I was on a fool’s errand and left myself.”

I picked up my cup mostly so I’d have something to do with my hands. First Teresa and now Channing Caulfield, not to mention Paul Duvall sneaking a cup of coffee behind his wife’s back; clearly none of these people had ever watched Wile E. Coyote cartoons or they’d know all that sneaking around wasn’t going to end well.

Liz waved our waiter over and ordered dessert. Caulfield and I both passed. “I see someone I need to speak to,” Liz said, getting to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Caulfield stood up as well.

“Sit down,” Liz said, waving a hand at him.

Caulfield watched her walk across the restaurant to a table by the front window before he resumed his seat. I recognized the person Liz had gone to speak to, Jane Evans, lawyer Josh Evans’s mother.

I exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry Liz was so blunt,” I said.

Caulfield pulled his eyes away from Liz and focused his attention on me. “She’s a complex woman,” he said. “I’ve wanted to get to know her better for years.” He set his napkin next to his plate. “What do you say, Sarah? Would you put in a good word for me?”

I laughed, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. “Did you not notice how much influence I don’t have with her?” I asked. There really wasn’t anything wrong with Channing Caulfield, I decided. He was just a little too slick. I had the urge to tell him to stop trying so hard, at least with Liz.

“Have you really been considering moving your business?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes. I came to the conclusion it wasn’t a good idea, financially speaking, but it was good to have you confirm my choice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

I leaned back in my chair. “I’m sorry you ended up with a worthless bottle of wine. For what it’s worth, the police are investigating the fraud.”

“From what I’ve been able to find out, they aren’t going to get very far without Mr. Quinn. This type of fraud was his area of expertise.”

“Maybe they’ll be able to figure out how Edison Hall was scammed in the first place. That could lead them to whoever faked the bottles.”

A look I couldn’t read flashed across his face. “I may have an idea how that happened,” Caulfield said slowly. “In fact, it may in part be my fault.”

I leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “I . . . don’t understand.” Was he confessing to some kind of fraud? I needed Liz.

Caulfield looked down at his coffee cup for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet mine. “About a year and a half ago I was asked to be part of a seminar on money management for seniors that was being sponsored by Legacy Place. I had a lot on my plate at the time and I turned down the invitation. They ended up bringing in someone from out of town.”

“And you think Edison was at that seminar?”

“I think it’s possible. I don’t know how they got our names, but everyone from the train club got an invitation, probably because we’re all over sixty-five.”