Софи Райан - The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

I took them into the back room and showed them the table. It really did seem to glow even under the bright overhead lights.

“That’s what I want,” the woman in the fisherman-knit sweater said. “Can you refinish it for me?”

I nodded. Behind her Mac held up two fingers, which I knew meant two weeks. “It’ll be about three weeks,” I said, adding an extra week so we’d have some wiggle room. I did a quick calculation in my head and added twenty-five percent to the cost. She didn’t quibble at all when I named the price.

“You have a deal,” I said, thinking maybe I should have added thirty percent instead.

We went out to the front counter and did the paperwork.

“Very nice,” Mac said once they were gone.

“I didn’t think anyone would want that table. I looked back toward the storeroom door. “It’s a very plain design. Not to mention it glows in the dark right now and most people can’t see beyond that.”

Mac just smiled his Cheshire cat smile at me.

I hadn’t seen any potential in that table but he had. “You can say ‘I told you so,’” I said.

The smile got wider. “No. That would be petty.”

I laughed. “You were right about that table.”

“Always good to have my genius recognized.”

I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Mr. P. standing there with his laptop. He had a pleased look on his face.

“Did you find something?” Rose asked. She’d been dusting a collection of tiny china animals.

“I think I might have,” he said. “I’ve been looking through the archives of the Burlington Free Press .” He carried the computer over and set it on the counter. There was a photo of a man who looked like he was in his late forties on the screen. His head was shaved smooth but he had a neatly trimmed goatee that seemed to be about half graying. He was tall and heavyset, and in the photo he was wearing rimless glasses.

“Who’s that?” Charlotte asked.

“His name is Jim Grant,” Mr. P. said. “His mother is one of Arthur Fenety’s wives. Jim Grant threatened to kill him.” He pushed his own glasses up his nose. “Actually he threatened to drive his truck over Arthur and turn him into roadkill, which I think is pretty much the same thing.”

“Maybe he decided that poison would be a little neater,” Rose said. She smiled at Mr. P. “We should talk to this Jim Grant. How do we get hold of him?”

“That’s going to take a little more digging,” Mr. P. said.

I heard the front door open and I looked over to see if there was more than one customer.

“Maybe it’s not,” I said, slowly.

Jim Grant had just walked into the store

Chapter 14

I looked at Mr. P. and shifted my eyes to the storeroom door. He was very quick on the uptake.

He touched my arm and smiled. “Thank you dear,” he said. “Facebook can be so confusing.” Then he picked up his laptop and headed back—I hoped—to the sunporch.

I smoothed the front of my shirt and met Jim Grant in the middle of the room in front of the tub chair. It was him, I realized, the man in Mr. P.’s photo. It wasn’t wishful thinking on my part or a trick of the light. I gave him a businesslike smile. “Hello,” I said, “Welcome to Second Chance.”

He was wearing khakis and a navy Windbreaker, and since I didn’t see his glasses I was guessing he was also wearing contacts.

“I’m looking for Sarah Grayson,” he said. “Would you be her?”

I nodded. “Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

“My name is Jim Grant.” He offered his hand and I shook it. His left arm was covered with a gauze bandage that disappeared up his sleeve and there was an angry rash on the back of his hand. “Detective Andrews said that Arthur Fenety sold my mother’s tea set to you. Did he sell you anything else?”

Well, now I knew where the tea set had come from. And I’d been right that Arthur’s selling it wasn’t on the up-and-up.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “The tea set was the only thing he brought in and the police have that now.”

He shrugged. “That’s what Detective Andrews said, but I wanted to see for myself. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“You haven’t,” I said. “You’re welcome to prowl around the store. Maybe that will put your mind at ease.”

He looked around the open space. “Thank you, but I don’t see anything that looks like hers. You don’t sell jewelry, do you?”

“No, we don’t,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rose and Charlotte folding a quilt and trying not to be obvious as they eavesdropped. “There is a pawn shop just one street up from the harbor front, though.”

He ran his fingers over his bearded chin. “I’ve already been there.”

“I’m sorry Arthur Fenety took advantage of your mother,” I said, hoping I could somehow get him talking so he’d stay for a few minutes. “Madeline Hamilton is a family friend.”

“The woman they charged.”

I nodded. “She didn’t kill him.”

Jim Grant shrugged. “There are some people who wouldn’t blame her if she had. Fenety left some of those women he scammed penniless.” His face tightened with anger. “He took my mother’s silver and her good jewelry, which was bad enough because those things have memories for her. But she has her house and most of her money. Some of his so-called wives weren’t that lucky.”

Rose was making her way over to us. She was moving slowly, limping. Why hadn’t I noticed that earlier?

“Excuse me for interrupting,” she said, directing her attention to Jim Grant, “but I heard you mention Arthur Fenety’s name. Was he a friend of yours?”

Grant shook his head. “No. Arthur Fenety was certainly not a friend of mine.”

“He was a despicable man,” Rose said.

Jim Grant nodded. “You knew him, then?”

She nodded. “He was seeing my friend, Maddie Hamilton.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rose Jackson.”

“Jim Grant,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it, gently. “I heard your friend was arrested. I’m sorry.”

Rose patted his hand before she let go of it. “A man like that had to have known some very unsavory people. I’m sure the police will find out that it was one of them who killed him.”

Elvis had come down the stairs. He came across the floor and wound around Jim Grant’s legs. “Hello, puss,” he said, reaching down to stroke the top of the cat’s head. I was beginning to think there wasn’t anyone that the cat couldn’t charm. Just like the original Elvis, this one had charisma.

“I wish I’d gotten here a day sooner,” Grant said. “Then it would have been Fenety in a jail cell.”

“He took advantage of your mother,” Rose said. “The man was a heel and a reprobate.”

I looked down at Elvis. Something was annoying him. He had the same pissed-off look he’d gotten when we’d all had lunch together and Maddie had been petting him.

“I admit when I found out what he’d done there was a moment when I thought I could have killed him.” He shook his head. “It’s not a very good thing to admit to, is it?”

Rose reached out and touched his sleeve. “I understand completely. I’ve had a few dark impulses about the man myself.”

“Now that he’s dead I don’t have much hope of getting my mother’s jewelry back.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “When I got here Tuesday morning and checked into my hotel, the newspaper was on the desk by the phone. I’d been looking for Fenety for months. I admit it felt like some cosmic joke that he was dead just when I’d finally tracked him down.” He straightened up and brushed off his hands. “Thank you, Ms. Grayson,” he said, “for giving the police the tea set. At least we’ll get that back eventually.”