Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

It occurred to me that maybe Ethan knew. “I’m as bad as Rose,” I muttered to Elvis, who was making himself comfortable in the middle of my desk.

When I tried Ethan’s cell phone, the call went straight to voice mail. Then I remembered that Stella had given me Ethan’s home number.

Ellie Hall answered the phone. I could hear little voices singing the ABC song in the background. “Hi, Sarah,” she said. “Ethan’s teaching, that’s why you couldn’t reach him. Could I help you with something?”

“Possibly,” I said. “We’re trying to do a detailed inventory out at the house and I wanted to be sure that none of the bottles in Edison’s collection get misplaced, you know, in case the police do ever need them as evidence in a case.” That was true as far as it went. “You don’t have any at your house, do you?”

“No,” she said. “Ethan left everything at his father’s house so Mr. Quinn could go through the boxes. Everything in the collection is there. And you don’t need to do an inventory. I remember Ethan saying his father had a list inside one of the boxes.”

“Good to know,” I said. “Thank you. We’re hoping to have the estate sale in about two weeks.”

“That would be wonderful,” Ellie said. “Ethan and I appreciate you continuing, under the circumstances. I’m sorry that you had to . . . find Mr. Quinn.” She had a warm, friendly voice, laced now with a touch of apology.

“I’m just happy we can help.”

“I was supposed to be there, first thing that morning,” she said, “to pack those dishes Stella wanted to keep. I keep thinking that I might have walked in on the killer.”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

“I had to have a small procedure done and they had a last-minute cancellation at the clinic. I almost said no, but Ethan insisted that I go.” She hesitated. “I’m guessing Stella told you about our situation, about the surgery I need on my back. I mean, it’s not really a secret.”

“She did,” I said. “I’m sorry that collection turned out to be worthless.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry that Edison was taken advantage of.” She cleared her throat. “He was a prickly man, but I know he cared about Ethan and his grandchildren. What he did, buying all those bottles as an investment, that was for us.”

I thought about the meticulous details kept on every bottle I’d seen in Edison Hall’s kitchen. It didn’t seem fair that things had ended the way they did.

“We’ll do everything we can to make as much money as possible from the estate sale,” I said.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Ellie said. “I, uh, don’t want to be a charity case. I guess I’m like Ethan’s dad in that way.” The little voices in the background were getting louder.

“I understand,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I did.

We said good-bye and I hung up. Elvis had moved off the desk. Now he regarded me from his perch on the love seat.

“This whole thing bites,” I said.

He immediately craned his neck in the direction of my desk drawer.

“No, not those kinds of bites,” I said. Elvis blinked his green eyes at me and began to wash his face.

I looked around the office, hoping somehow I’d find inspiration. My old black leather phone book was on my desk. I’d had it for years, adding and crossing out phone numbers and e-mail addresses as I moved from one radio station to another in my past life, to my life here in North Harbor.

I slid the book closer, across the desk. I still knew a couple of people who worked in radio in this area. Maybe they’d be willing to help. Ellie had just said her situation wasn’t a secret, so I wouldn’t be violating her privacy.

“If I can’t catch the bad guys, maybe I can give the good guys a leg up,” I said to Elvis.

He stopped washing his sleek black fur and turned to look at me, paw paused in midair. The expression on his face seemed to say that he thought my analogy was pretty lame, which it was. I just hoped my efforts wouldn’t be.

Chapter 17

I was coming back into the house in the morning after carrying out another box of sweaters I’d felted for Jess when the doorknob was literally pulled out of my hand. I stumbled, off balance, into the entryway, almost knocking Rose over.

“Oh, there you are, dear,” she said. She was grinning a Cheshire cat grin, which I had learned was not always a good thing.

“What do you need?” I said, running a hand over my hair. It wasn’t quite raining, but a fine mist had dampened my hair on my dash to and from the SUV. I knew Elvis would grumble when it was time to leave.

“Do you have a rain jacket?” she asked, the almost smug smile turning into a frown.

“Yes,” I said. “Would you like to borrow it?” I knew Rose had a hooded yellow slicker of her own, but maybe she’d left it at the shop.

“Well, now, if I wore your jacket what would you wear?” she said, shaking her head as though I were a child. “Don’t forget your boots,” she added as she headed back to her apartment.

“I won’t,” I called after her. I might have been a grown woman who was perfectly capable or deciding whether or not I need to wear boots, but I was also smart enough to know that my morning routine would go a lot faster if I didn’t have to have a discussion about appropriate footwear with Rose before we even got to the shop.

Five minutes later we were in the SUV, Rose on the passenger side wearing her boots and slicker and Elvis on the backseat looking toward the windshield. He’d already swiped his paw over his face to dry off.

“Why were you looking for me before?” I asked Rose.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I got sidetracked by the weather. I wanted to tell you that I’ve come up with a way to find Mr. Logan.” She fastened her seat belt and gave me that smile again.

“And that way is?” I prompted.

“Are you familiar with the movie The Sting ?” Rose asked. “Robert Redford and Paul Newman.”

“I know it,” I said, pulling out on to the street.

“Well, that’s what we’re going to do.”

“You’re going to invite him to play poker on a train?”

“Don’t get saucy,” she said, but she was smiling, so I knew I wasn’t really in trouble. “We’re going to set up a situation that our wine broker won’t be able to resist.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Shady Pines has an e-mail newsletter that they send to all the residents.”

I cleared my throat loudly.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said with a slight edge of sarcasm to her voice. “ Legacy Place has an e-mail newsletter that they send to all their residents.”

“Which you aren’t anymore.”

“Well, their system doesn’t seem to understand that, which is why I know that there’s going to be another one of those money management seminars for seniors over in Rockport.”

I came to a stop at the corner and took the opportunity to look over at Rose. “When?”

“Today.”

“Today?” I exclaimed. “That doesn’t give you enough time to set up anything.”

“You seriously underestimate me,” she said.

I gave a snort of laughter. “That’s one thing I never do. Tell me your plan.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see her smug smile. “Well, basically it relies on Alfred’s innate sex appeal.”

“I see,” I said, unsure of what else to say. Mr. P. was a darling man, but sexy wasn’t an adjective I’d use to describe him.

“I know someone your age doesn’t see it,” Rose said, “but to a woman of my vintage, Alfred is a chick magnet.”

“I like Alfred,” I said, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the road. “And I’m going to take your word for it on the sex-appeal thing. Tell me the rest of your plan.”