Софи Райан - A Whisker Оf Trouble

“Hi,” I said. “Do you have a couple of minutes?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Well.” I wasn’t sure how to start. “I’m, uh, I guess you could say I’m acting as the spokesperson for the Angels.”

“All right,” she said. It seemed to me that I could hear just a little amusement in her voice.

I explained what had happened, leaving out some of the details like Liam masquerading as Mr. P.’s son. “So Mr. P. has a meeting with this broker, tomorrow afternoon at Glenn McNamara’s.”

Michelle laughed and I felt my heart sink. She wasn’t taking this seriously. Then to my surprise she said, “They’re good.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “Excuse me?” I said.

“I’ve been looking for Mr. Logan for the past couple of days. He’s a difficult man to track down. How did they find him?”

The knot in my stomach unclenched and I leaned back in my chair. “Old-fashioned, senior word of mouth. It’s faster than the information superhighway.”

“I’m assuming you’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,” Michelle said.

“I will,” I said. “Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee’s on me,” she said. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince the rest of them to stay home, is there?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Only if you intend to use handcuffs.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” She exhaled softly. “Please, use whatever influence you have with them. No grandstanding, no theatrics.”

“I’m not sure how much influence I have,” I said. “They all changed my diapers and they’re not afraid to point that out, but I’ll do what I can.”

We set up a time to meet at Glenn’s and I hung up.

“I’m going to close up early,” I said to Mac at lunchtime the next day.

“Then maybe I’ll come with you, if that’s okay,” he said.

“Please.”

I’d been awake half the night, having second, third and fourth thoughts about this whole enterprise. Mr. P. could be walking into a meeting with two murderers. They could be armed. Backed into a corner, they could take hostages.

“Rose is as wired as a five-year-old on Christmas Eve,” I said. “I caught her looking up how to make a citizen’s arrest when Mr. P. was upstairs changing.” I slid a hand back over my hair. “And short of duct-taping her to a chair, there’s no way she’s going to stay out of this. I promised Michelle I’d try to rein them in, but I think they’re more likely to listen to reason if the voice of reason is yours, not mine.”

“They’ve been pretty restrained so far,” Mac pointed out.

I nodded. “I know, that’s what worries me. We’re due for something a little over-the-top.”

We were all in our places by quarter after four. Liz and Charlotte at one table, Mac and Rose at another and Michelle and I at a third. Michelle also had an officer in the kitchen and another working behind the counter with Glenn. Plus, ex–football player Glenn was, by himself, perfectly capable of popping your head off like the cap off a soda bottle.

Michelle propped her elbows on the table and bent her head over her coffee. “See the car diagonally across the street?” she asked. “I think that’s them. The woman is using the last name Flaherty.”

I pulled a hand back through my hair and looked out the front window of the sandwich shop. There was a silver Lexus parked on the street and I could see Leila in the passenger seat. “It is,” I said. “I recognize the woman who’s working with him.”

Mr. P. was on his way up the sidewalk. He was wired again, this time just for sound with a tiny police-issue microphone attached under the edge of his sweater vest. He came inside, smiled at us all and sat at a table in the corner to the left of the door. Glenn took him a cup of coffee.

Michelle looked around. “We got lucky,” she said. “This place could have been filled with people.”

“That’s why Mr. P. decided on this time of day,” I said, picking up my cup and setting it down again. Across the street Leila got out of the passenger side of the Lexus.

“They’re on the move,” I said softly to Michelle.

She in turn looked over at Mr. P. and nodded.

Leila and Thorne Logan stepped into the sandwich shop. I noticed that she was carrying the Burberry purse. She looked around. At his table Mr. P. stood up. “Hello, Leila,” I heard him say.

“Hello, Harold,” she replied. “I’d like you to meet Thornton Logan.”

The two men shook hands and they all sat down.

“I like your hair like that,” Michelle said.

For a moment I looked blankly at her, and then I remembered we were supposed to be having a conversation. “I’ve been thinking about shaving my head. What do you think?” It was the first thing that popped into my mind. I was not good at this, I realized.

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”

I wasn’t sure if she was serious with her question or if it was just part of making conversation.

“I’m thinking of training for a marathon,” I said. “It would just be easier, you know, showering so much.”

“Well, you could have some kind of design cut into the stubble,” Michelle offered with just a hint of a smile. Now I knew she wasn’t serious.

The officer working with Glenn approached the table. Both Logan and Leila ordered coffee.

The door to the little shop opened and Avery walked in. My breath caught in my chest. I should have known she had agreed far too easily to being left out.

“What is she doing here?” Michelle asked, her voice low.

“I can get her out,” I said. I started to get to my feet.

Michelle caught my arm. “Sit,” she said. “I don’t want to do anything to draw their attention.” She tipped her head, ever so slightly, in the direction of Mr. P.’s table.

Liz was shooting daggers in her granddaughter’s direction.

Avery ignored the look. “Hi, Gram,” she said, walking over to the table. “Sorry I’m late.”

Michelle caught Liz’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. It looked to me as though Liz nodded in return, but I couldn’t be sure. She got up and headed to the counter, motioning at Avery to take her seat. That put Avery closer to the kitchen with the wall behind her.

I had to swallow hard to get the lump in my throat to go down. Why had I agreed to this? It had to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

Michelle squeezed my arm. “Breathe,” she whispered.

I took a deep breath and then another. Panicking wasn’t going to do me any good. These people were my family and I would protect them with my life if it came to that. I was really hoping it wouldn’t.

Michelle and I talked about hair and running for the next few minutes. Avery bought a cinnamon roll. Liz and Charlotte seemed to be making a grocery list and from what little I could hear of Mac and Rose’s conversation, she was asking questions about his love life. I sent him a smile of sympathy when he looked my way. Finally the officer turned counterperson came over to the table with the coffeepot. It was the agreed-upon signal for Michelle to make her move.

“We’re good,” he said almost under his breath to her.

She looked across the table at me. “Everyone stays out of the way,” she said.

I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t have to dramatically fling myself in front of anyone or take Rose down with a running tackle.

Michelle got up and moved toward Mr. P.’s table in one quick, smooth move. She stopped by Thorne Logan’s chair, the officer positioning himself closer to Mr. P., effectively shielding him from the others.

“Hello, Mr. Logan,” Michelle said. She flashed her badge. “I’m Detective Andrews. Could I talk to you for a minute?”