Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

I leaned against the counter and took a sip.

“You know, if we stay in here very long, my mother and her cohorts are going to get ideas,” Nick said.

“They already have ideas,” I said. “Rose pointed out that you have lots of hair and there are no bald men on either side of your family.”

Nick laughed. “That’s a bald-faced fabrication, pardon the pun. My grandfather McPhee had hair, but it spent the week in a box and only came out Sunday for church.” He tipped his head and pointed at his own head. “This hair is man-made, but it’s made by this man.” He tapped his chest with two fingers.

“Good to know,” I said.

He leaned against the counter beside me. “Apparently one of your selling points is that you have very few cavities.”

I laughed. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “What can I say? Good dental hygiene is important to my mother.”

“We should go see what they’re doing,” I said.

“Talking about us or talking about their case would be my guess,” Nick said, pushing away from the counter.

They were talking about the case. Mr. P. was sitting on Charlotte’s sofa with Rose on one side, Liam on the other, and Avery hanging over the back. They were all looking at his laptop. Liz was in the big overstuffed chair, one elbow propped on the padded arm. Charlotte was sitting opposite in a brown leather club chair, writing in an old-style steno notebook I hadn’t known they made anymore.

I took my coffee and went to sit on the footstool in front of Liz. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making a list of people who were at Feast in the Field who may have taken photos,” Rose said. She looked at Liz. “Celeste?”

Charlotte looked up from her notepad.

Liz shook her head. “No. She doesn’t have a cell phone and the last camera she would have used was an Instamatic.”

Nick had walked around the sofa to stand next to Avery. I saw him look over Mr. P.’s shoulder at the laptop balanced on his knees. Then something in his body language changed. He stiffened, then leaned in slightly.

I watched out of the corner of my eye. Something had clearly caught his attention on the computer screen. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He swiped his free hand over the back of his neck, came around the end of the sofa and sat on the arm next to Liam. “What’s happening with the development?” I heard him ask. “Have you started looking at those old warehouses?”

Liam shifted in his seat and I leaned forward to see what was on the screen before Mr. P. moved to another photo. The image was of a fair-haired man, arms caught animatedly in the air, in front of one of the booths. There had to be a dozen people around him, but he was the only one facing the camera. I was betting it was him Nick had recognized.

By the time Mr. P. had gone through all the pictures, Charlotte had written down twenty-one names of people who might have taken photos at Feast in the Field. Rose and Mr. P. were hoping for a better shot of the mystery man.

Liz and Avery left at the same time I did. I’d hoped to get a chance to talk to Nick and maybe find out what had caught his attention on that computer screen, but he was talking to Liam and since I was giving Rose and Mr. P. a ride, I couldn’t really stall.

When I got home I found Elvis sprawled on his back on the top of his cat tower. After I’d stowed the leftovers Charlotte had sent me home with in the refrigerator, I went over to him. He eyed me upside down and I scratched the black fur under his chin. He sighed and began to purr. For a moment I wished all it would take was a scratch under my chin to make me relax.

I was sitting on the couch about an hour later going through a pile of old home-reno magazines when there was a knock on the door. “That’s Liam,” I said to Elvis, who had been stretched out across my legs. I moved him to the floor and went to let my brother in.

Except it wasn’t Liam. It was Nick.

“Hi,” he said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” I said, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

He stepped inside. “I can’t stay for long.”

“What’s up?” I asked.

He put a hand in his pocket and held out a business card. “Here,” he said. “This is the man Rose and Alfred are looking for.”

I took the cardboard rectangle from him. “You recognized him. In the photos.”

He studied me, dark eyes serious. “You knew.”

I nodded. “I know your tells, remember? That’s how I kept gas in Gram’s truck the summer I learned to drive.”

Nick gave me a sheepish grin. “I remember.”

“Thank you for this,” I said, turning the card over in my fingers. It was made from heavy, cream-colored card stock with a streamlined font—Century Gothic, I thought—in black. I remembered Liam saying the wine dealer had been handing out business cards.

“This doesn’t mean I think they’re right,” he cautioned.

“Doesn’t mean you think they’re wrong, either.”

“I didn’t say that, Sarah,” he said. He shook his head and gave me a wry smile. “Look, when I saw that photo I remembered the guy. There wasn’t anything shifty about him. He was personable and well-spoken.”

“But,” I finished.

“Just between us?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded.

“I noticed that he was just a little faster handing those out to anyone who looked to be a senior. At the time I chalked it up to him just targeting people who seemed more likely to have money.”

“Or maybe he was targeting people who’d be a little more open to his pitch.” I looked at the card again. “Thorne Logan,” I said. “You think that’s a real name?”

Nick shrugged. “It could be. I had a chemistry class with a girl named Peaches.” He looked at his watch. “Do me a favor? Try to rein them in if they do find the guy.”

I laughed. “Right. Because I’ve done such a good job in the past.”

He rolled his eyes. “They listen to you more than they listen to me.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I promised.

“Thanks,” he said. One eyebrow went up and the corners of his lips twitched. “Nice shirt.”

I put a hand on my chest and looked down at my tee. It was a Power Rangers shirt. Nick had bought it to replace the similar one I’d had as a kid that he’d wiped his nose on—an act he claimed was one of social commentary but that I thought was just him being a boy.

“I never asked, where on earth did you find it?”

“EBay. I’ve been watching for a Samurai Pizza Cats shirt for Liam’s birthday.”

I laughed. “He’ll kill me for telling you about that, but it would be worth it.”

“I’ll warn you if I find it,” Nick said. He looked at his watch again. “I’ve gotta go. Will I see you Thursday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

I locked the door behind him and went back to the sofa, where Elvis was waiting. I sat down beside him and he craned his neck over my arm to look at the business card. The only thing on it was Thorne Logan’s name and a phone number. Any connection between him and the fake wine was spiderweb thin at best. And what about the woman with the plaid purse? Were they connected? Was she involved at all? The only thing we had to go on was Rose’s gut feeling.

The cat cocked his head to one side and gave me a quizzical look.

“I’m not really sure what this means, either,” I said to him.

Mac and Rose went out to work on the Hall house Monday morning. Charlotte and I stayed at the shop. I was expecting Cleveland, the other picker I bought from regularly, to stop by with his haul from the weekend.

I spent a chunk of my time outside working on an old metal cabinet that Jess and I had found in the ditch along an old woods road. I could still see the look on Mac’s face when I’d asked him to help me lift it out of the back of the SUV.