Софи Райан - Buy А Whisker

He was wearing jeans and a rust-colored denim work jacket with a heavy pile lining and the corduroy collar turned up. His shaggy dark hair was pulled back, like it often was, in a ponytail.

“C’mon back to the workroom,” I said, leading the way.

Mac met us at the door. “Jon, it’s good to see you again,” he said, offering his hand.

“You too,” the developer said. The two men shook hands, and then we walked over to the tarp.

Mac and I waited without speaking while Jon West walked around the chandelier.

“Is that the original ceiling chain?” he asked. “I forgot to ask you before.”

I nodded. “And the original ceiling rosette.”

He crouched down to get a closer look at the cutwork and the glass shade. “What about the shade?”

“I don’t think so,” Mac said. “It’s the shade that was with the light, but we think it was a replacement for the original, probably circa 1930.”

“Are you firm on the price?” West asked, training his blue eyes on me. “Or is there some room to move?” He smiled.

“There’s some room to move,” I said with a smile of my own. “I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to give me more than we’re asking.”

He laughed, straightened up and named a figure that was less than half the amount I’d originally quoted him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t do that when I have other buyers interested.”

West circled the light. Based on the architect’s drawings for the hotel that he’d shown us several weeks before, it would look spectacular in the lobby.

“Can I ask who your other buyers are?” he said.

I patted the pocket where I’d put my cell phone as though I’d just felt it vibrate even though it hadn’t. “Of course you can,” I said. “I can’t tell you, but I don’t mind you asking.” Then I smiled.

He named a number that was ten percent more than his previous figure. I just shook my head. He walked over and stood beside me, his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Sarah. You know how this works. You name a number. I name a number. We volley back and forth a little and settle on a price.”

“We already did that,” I said. “When you originally called me about the light. I’ve given you my best price.”

West turned to look at the chandelier again. “That light’s a piece of history. It was cast at a foundry just outside of North Harbor. I really want it to be the focal point of the hotel in the harbor development.”

“Do you even have a development?” Rose asked.

I’d seen her start over toward us out of the corner of my eye, but short of tackling her and wrestling her to the floor, I didn’t see any way to stop her. My resolution to let the Angels do their thing was about to be tested.

Jon West turned to face Rose. “Excuse me?” he said.

Rose gestured to the chandelier. “You’re right. That light is a piece of our history and I would like to see it stay in town, but you don’t have all the property you need to start building. You don’t have Lily’s Bakery.” She studied him for a long moment, then gave her head a slight shake and offered a smile along with her hand. “Where are my manners?” she said. “I’m Rose Jackson, Mr. West.”

Jon West shook her hand and returned her smile with a smooth, professional smile of his own. “I’m guessing you shopped at Doran’s,” he said.

“Yes, I did,” Rose said. “I remember being in the lobby of the Portland store just before Christmas when I was about five. They had a huge evergreen tree set up under that light. It must have been eight feet tall, maybe higher. My father picked me up so I could have a candy cane from the tree, and to me it looked like that chandelier was the star on the top.”

“That’s a wonderful memory,” he said, tapping one hand against his leg.

Knowing Rose, it was possible it was actually a wonderful fabrication.

“Yes, it is,” she said. “But it doesn’t have anything to do with my original question, which you haven’t answered. How are you going to build North Landing without the bakery?”

Elvis had come in from somewhere and jumped up on the workbench behind us. He bumped Jon West’s arm with his head, and West reached over and absently began to pet the cat. “I hope to buy the bakery from Lily Carter’s estate,” he said.

“Did you kill her so you could do that?” Rose asked in the same tone of voice she might have used to ask if he wanted a cup of tea. “Lily wouldn’t sell to you when she was alive.”

New resolve or not, I couldn’t just stand there while she accused the man of murder. I stepped between them. “Rose, this isn’t the place for this conversation,” I said.

Jon West held up the hand that wasn’t stroking Elvis’s fur. “It’s all right, Sarah. I don’t mind answering Mrs. Jackson’s question. No, I did not kill Lily Carter. I wasn’t anywhere near that bakery.”

Rose had had one hand in her pocket the entire time she’d been talking. Now she pulled it out. She was holding Mr. P.’s cell phone. “When I was a child we had an expression—‘liar, liar pants on fire,’” she said. She glanced down. “I think yours are about to start smoking.”

She held up the phone so we could see it. It was playing what looked like some kind of security video. It was black-and-white, and the quality could have been better. Even so, I recognized the back of Lily’s Bakery.

“What is this, Rose?” I asked.

“Just watch, please,” she said.

I saw a figure then, just at the edge of the picture. He or she slipped out the back door of the bakery and disappeared out of the frame. Whoever it was had on a heavy denim work jacket and a knitted cap. What looked like a long, dark ponytail poked out from underneath the hat. The person was careful to keep his or her face turned away from the camera.

“Where did you get this?” Mac asked.

“I have my sources,” Rose said primly.

I had a feeling her source was over at the other end of the room.

“That’s you,” she said to Jon West.

West shook his head. “No, it’s not.” He looked at me. “You all can’t seriously think I killed Lily Carter over the North Landing development.” He jabbed a finger at the cell phone. “This is fake.”

He’d stopped petting Elvis, who bumped him again with his head. He reached out and stroked the cat’s fur again.

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s from a security camera on the building next to the bakery.” There was a slight edge of accusation to her voice. “You were the one playing all those childish tricks on Lily, and when they didn’t work, you killed her.”

“Stop,” I said sharply, holding up both hands. “Just stop.” I took the phone out of her hand. “Jon, this does look like you,” I said. “I’m not saying you killed Lily, but did you go there to talk to her?”

The muscles along his jawline were tight, and I could tell he was gritting his teeth together. “I didn’t go talk to Lily the night she died. I wasn’t the person harassing her, and I didn’t kill her. I wasn’t even in town the night she died.” Anger made his voice rougher.

He pulled his free hand back over his neck and turned to look at Rose for a moment. “You’re incorrect. The entire project is not in danger of falling apart. It never was. The town was going to expropriate that piece of land. All that’s happened now is that the timeline has been pushed back. The estate will be settled. We’ll buy the property instead of going to expropriation, and North Landing will go ahead. So yes, Lily made me angry enough that I had a moment or two when I wanted to strangle her, but I didn’t actually do it. I had no reason to.”

Elvis shook himself and walked along the workbench to sit by Mac.