Софи Райан - The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

The universe or someone was smiling on us because we found a parking spot. We piled out and I pointed a finger at Elvis. “Guard the truck,” I said.

He gave an answering meow and sat up a little straighter.

We couldn’t exactly run for the terminal buildings. Liz was wearing heels and I wasn’t sure about making Mr. P. move that fast, so we more or less speed-walked from the parking area.

“Which way?” I asked once we stepped inside. Mr. P. did a quick survey and pointed. “That way. She’s probably in the security line.” He spoke with such assurance that I decided to head in that direction, mentally crossing my fingers that he was right.

When Jess and I had seen Grace MacIntyre she’d been wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, so I scanned the terminal for someone with the same dyed red hair as I’d noticed peeking out from under her cap. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. And then I spotted her—or a person I hoped was her—in the middle of a line snaking toward the security check.

“I think I see her,” I said.

“Where?” Charlotte asked at my elbow.

I pointed. “The redhead behind the woman in the green jacket. I think that might be her.”

“Go,” Liz said. “This is as fast as I move in these shoes.”

Charlotte and I hurried across the tile floor as the line moved forward.

“What are you going to say to her?” Charlotte asked.

I kept my eyes on what I sincerely hoped was the back of Grace MacIntyre’s head. “I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t exactly start out by saying, ‘Hello. Did you by any chance kill Arthur Fenety?’”

We were almost level with the woman by then. She glanced in our direction and I recognized her face. It was the woman Jess and I had seen at Sam’s. Before I could say anything Charlotte took a step in from of me and touched her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you Grace MacIntyre?”

“Yes,” she said frowning a little at us.

“My name is Charlotte Elliot,” Charlotte said. “And this is my friend, Sarah Grayson. Could we talk to you about Arthur Fenety?”

Grace pressed her lips together and looked down at the floor for a moment. When she met Charlotte’s eyes again all she said was, “He’s dead.”

“I know,” Charlotte said. “We’re trying to find out who killed him.”

“A woman named Madeline Hamilton.”

I shook my head. “No, she didn’t.”

Grace shrugged. “She was arrested.”

“The police are wrong,” Charlotte said firmly.

“You think I killed him?” Grace asked.

“No,” I said. “But how did you locate him here? From what I understand there were a lot of people looking for Arthur Fenety.”

She laughed, but there really wasn’t any humor in the sound. “I hired a private detective.”

“When you found him, why didn’t you just call the police?” Charlotte asked.

“It wasn’t because I was planning on killing him.”

“Arthur was a very charming man,” Charlotte said.

I hadn’t been expecting her to say that but I figured she had to have a plan, so I kept my mouth shut and my expression neutral.

“Yes, he was,” Grace said and a smile flitted across her face. “He was a bit of a scoundrel, but he had his good points.” She was carrying a leather tote bag and she shifted it from one hand to the other as the line moved forward again. We were running out of time. She shrugged. “There’s no harm in telling you, I guess. I didn’t come here to get back at Arthur. I came to get him back.”

Charlotte actually looked sympathetic. I was trying just not to look surprised.

“I have more than enough money,” Grace said. “What I don’t have is anyone to share my life with.”

“I understand,” Charlotte said, nodding slowly. I glanced over at Liz and Mr. P., who were standing a few steps away. “Did you see Arthur?” she asked. We were only half a dozen people away from the security check.

“The morning he . . . died.” Grace looked away for a moment and then her gaze came back to Charlotte’s face. “He turned me down. He said the money didn’t matter; he was in love for real this time. He kissed me on the cheek and wish me well.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.

Grace nodded. “Me too. Maybe if he’d given us another chance he’s still be alive.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “My mother always said it’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor one. I think it’s the same for a rich woman. But Arthur didn’t see it that way.” She cleared her throat. “And since I’m confessing my weaknesses to you I may as well tell you that I spent the rest of the day with my private detective going over all the information on Arthur that he had.”

I’d wondered how the newspaper had dug up so much on Arthur Fenety so fast. “You sent it all to the paper,” I said.

She nodded. “I did. My mother also said revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“In my experience, revenge is a dish best not served at all,” Charlotte said softly.

Grace turned and pointed to a man several people back in the line behind her. “The man in the brown leather jacket, he’s the detective I hired. You can ask him where I was on Monday.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“I hope things work out for you friend,” she said. The line moved again and she was at security.

Grace MacIntyre’s detective, Malcolm Kent, had a strong handshake, deep blue eyes, and iron gray hair in a brush cut. I introduced Charlotte and myself and explained who we were.

“Mrs. MacIntyre just sent me a text,” he said. “What would you like to know?”

“She was with you on Monday?” I asked.

He nodded. “She was. From about eleven thirty until close to three o’clock at the Fairgate Hotel. We ordered room service, if that helps.”

“It does,” I said.

“Mrs. MacIntrye asked me to give you a copy of everything I learned about Arthur Fenety. If you give me your e-mail address I’ll send it to you.”

I gave Malcolm Kent the store’s e-mail, thanked him and Charlotte and I walked over to Liz and Mr. P.

“Any luck?” Liz asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “She has an alibi.”

We headed back out to the parking lot. “There has to be an easier way to do this,” I said, fishing the keys to the SUV out of my pocket. “There has to be some way to find out which one of the women in Arthur Fenety’s life wanted him dead.”

“Wasn’t that pretty much all of them?” Liz said dryly.

Charlotte shook her head. “No. Grace MacIntyre actually wanted him back.”

Liz rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think the woman who knew him best would know that?” Mr. P. said.

We all looked at him.

“Who would that be?” I asked.

Mr. P. looked at the three of us, a slightly baffled expression on his face. “His sister, Daisy. Has anyone gone and talked to her?”

Chapter 16

“No,” Charlotte said. “None of us know her very well. She only got here a couple of months ago and she’s kept pretty much to herself.”

“I’ve never met her,” I said, sliding onto the driver’s seat. Elvis had climbed into the front while we were gone and he nuzzled my arm. “Good job on keeping the SUV safe,” I said, giving him a quick scratch behind one ear. He licked my hand and sat up just a little straighter.

“Actually, you have,” Charlotte said. “Do you remember the woman who came in—let’s see—maybe three weeks ago and bought that forget-me-not cream pitcher?”

I shifted so I could see Charlotte in the backseat. “That was Daisy?”

She nodded.

I pictured the woman in my mind. Daisy Fenety was tall and elegant with blond hair waved back from her face in a smooth bob. She’d come across as a little aloof but very knowledgeable about the china.