Софи Райан - The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

“I’ll go talk to her,” Charlotte said. “I’ve at least spent a little time with her. She and Arthur came with Maddie to help sort books for the book sale for the playground fund-raiser.” She pulled out her phone.

“I’m calling Rose,” she said. “I don’t have time to make anything and I can’t go to see Daisy empty-handed.”

“Charlotte, we can stop at Lily’s and get a cake or something.”

She looked at me like I’d suggested we all go skinny-dipping in the fountain in front of the library. “I’m going to express my condolences,” she said. “I can’t show up with a store-bought cake.”

Mr. P. caught my eye and gave a tiny shrug. Obviously he hadn’t heard of that rule.

“Do you have any blueberry muffins in your freezer?” Charlotte said into the phone. Rose must have said yes because Charlotte smiled. “Okay, then. Take them out to thaw. I’m going to see Daisy and I need something to take with me.” There was another pause and then they started debating the merits of blueberry muffins versus rhubarb muffins. At least I assumed they were debating it, since I could hear only Charlotte’s side of the conversation.

I started to back out of the parking spot. “I wouldn’t have a problem taking a store-bought cake,” Liz said quietly beside me.

I shot her a quick smile. “That’s why I love you,” I said.

We got back to the store just in time to catch a busload of Canadians on their way to a football weekend in Boston. Mr. P. disappeared into the sunporch with his laptop.

“I’ll go make the tea,” Liz said. She headed upstairs, Elvis at her heels. I made a mental note to get tea bags. It seemed like this version of Charlie’s Angels pretty much ran on tea.

The bus tour kept us busy until after four thirty. Liz brought us all tea and I was happy to sit down for a minute and drink it. The teacup gardens had sold out again, along with three of Avery’s four wine-carafe gardens. One woman had bought a small corner table that we were going to pack and ship all the way to Newfoundland for the ridiculously large fee Mac had quoted to her. Without prompting, Avery got the vacuum out and started on the stairs.

“Where does Daisy live?” I asked Charlotte. She was straightening up the bookcase.

“She and Arthur were renting a house just down from the stone church.” The stone church was actually the Church of the Good Shepherd, but around town it was known as the stone church. It was close to two hundred years old, made from Maine limestone.

“I’ll go with you,” I said. “It’s too far for you to walk down to Legacy Place and then all the way to Daisy’s.” I seemed to be getting way more involved in this investigation than I’d planned to—than I’d wanted to, but it didn’t seem right to let Charlotte walk all that way and talk to Daisy by herself.

Charlotte smiled. “Okay. I wouldn’t mind having some company. I’m not exactly sure what to say to her.”

“We’ll just play it by ear,” I said. I didn’t really know what to say, either. I called Rose to let her know we’d be down soon to get the muffins. “We should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I said.

“I’ll be out in front of Shady Pines, waiting for you,” she said.

Rose was standing on the sidewalk when we pulled up in front of her apartment building. She handed a small pansy-patterned tin to Charlotte through the passenger’s window.

“I put them in a tin because she’ll have to give it back to you and that will give you another chance to talk to her,” Rose said.

I leaned over and smiled at her. “Pretty crafty.”

“I try.” She smiled, not at all modestly. “I’ll save you some supper,” she said to Charlotte. She looked at me again. “What about you, Sarah? Could you join us? I’m making potato scallop.”

“I’d love to,” I said. “But I’m meeting Jess later.”

“I’d better get back upstairs and check on things,” she said.

We waved and I headed across town for Daisy Fenety’s house.

“What do you know about Daisy?” I asked Charlotte.

“Not very much,” she said, smoothing a wrinkle out of her skirt. “I know she’s a few years younger than Arthur. She worked in the registrar’s office of a small private college but I don’t know where. And as far as I know she never married.” She folded her hands over the tin of muffins in her lap. “And the only reason I know any of that is because Maddie tried so hard to draw her out while we were sorting the books.”

“She may not tell us anything,” I said, looking both ways before I turned left.

“Do you think she knew about all Arthur’s shady dealings?” Charlotte said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. You said she’s only been here a few weeks. And if she was working before that, it’s possible she didn’t know a thing.”

“See the white bungalow with the yellow door?” Charlotte leaned forward and pointed.

“That’s it?” I said.

She nodded.

I pulled to the curb in front of the house and shut off the engine. I turned to Charlotte. “We don’t have to give Daisy the third degree,” I said. “I can see it makes you uncomfortable. We’ll give her the muffins and express our sympathy. If we learn anything, fine. If not, that’s all right, too.”

Charlotte smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Maybe I’m too soft, but I feel sorry for Daisy. Her brother’s dead. Whether she knew anything about what he’d been doing or not, he was still her brother—the last of her family. She doesn’t have anybody now.”

I reached over and laid my hand on hers for a moment.

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” I said. “And I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

We walked up the stone pathway to the front door and rang the bell. Beside me I heard Charlotte take a deep breath. I understood how she felt. It didn’t seem right to ambush Daisy Fenety. But on the other hand, it didn’t seem right for Maddie to go to jail for something she didn’t do.

Daisy opened the door and seemed surprised to see us standing there.

“Charlotte. Hello.” She said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry about Arthur,” Charlotte said. She held out the tin of muffins. “These are for you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Thank you,” Daisy said, taking the small round can from Charlotte’s hands. “That’s so thoughtful of you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would you like to come in?”

“For a minute,” Charlotte said. She turned to me. “Daisy, this is Sarah Grayson, my friend Isabel’s granddaughter. She drove me here.”

I held out my hand and the older woman took it. “I think we met at my shop, Second Chance,” I said.

Daisy nodded. “Yes, we did.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you,” she said. I couldn’t help noticing how guarded her expression was. Then again, if my brother had been murdered I’d be guarded around people, too.

We followed Daisy inside. We stepped into a small entryway, which led to the living room. The house was beautifully decorated. Someone had excellent taste. Daisy, I suspected.

Charlotte and I sat on the sofa. It was leather, the color of a bar of dark chocolate and very comfortable. Daisy took a wing chair opposite us. She set the muffins on the round table by the front window and folded her hands in her lap. Then she looked at Charlotte and cleared her throat.

“I know you and Madeline are friends,” she began. She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’m not condoning what she did, but I want you to know I’m not condoning what my brother did, either.”

“You didn’t know,” Charlotte said, gently. “I’m sorry. It must have been an awful shock.”