Софи Райан: The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

“What did Nick say?” Jess asked.

“He said this doesn’t prove anything. Maddie and Aleida Scott could have planned to kill Arthur Fenety together.”

Jess shook her head. “What happened to his common sense?” she said. “And Michelle’s, for that matter.”

I looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, first of all, Maddie was a nurse. If she was going to kill someone I think she’d be able to come up with something better than a banned pesticide she would have had to steal from one of her friends. And she certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill the man at her own house or ask a complete stranger to help.” She put Elvis on my lap, got up and started for the kitchen. “Was I the only kid who watched Murder, She Wrote ?” She held out her hands as though she were appealing to a higher power.

I shifted sideways a bit and Elvis stretched out on my lap. “A, what the heck are you talking about? And B, what are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m talking about a setup,” she said. “And what I’m doing is making coffee.”

“You think someone set up Maddie so she’d be blamed for Arthur’s murder?”

“C’mon, it’s the only thing that makes sense,” Jess said, scooping coffee into the top of the machine. “You’re almost out of coffee, by the way.”

“So, why Maddie?”

Jess shrugged. “Convenience, probably. She was seeing the guy. That would make a her likely suspect.”

It made sense. “So who would do something like that?”

“Hey, I can’t figure out everything for you,” she said. “Why don’t you call Nick back and see if he has any theories?” She was filling the carafe with water.

“Sorry,” I said. “I can’t hear you.”

She made a face at me and turned to pour the water into the coffeemaker. Once the machine was doing its thing she got out a couple of mugs and a plate for the cookies she’d brought.

“Cut Nick a little slack, if you can,” Jess said, propping her elbows on the counter. “This new job of his can’t be easy.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Don’t make me feel sympathy for him. I want to stay mad a little bit longer.”

“And then there’s the fact that he’s got a . . . thing for you.”

“Just because Nick shaved the other night doesn’t mean he has a thing for me,” I said. I opened my eyes.

Jess laced her fingers together and propped her chin on top of them. “Admit it,” she said, a teasing grin on her face. “You kind of like the idea. You should have a fling with him.”

I stroked Elvis’s fur and he put his head down on his front paws. “I’d like to fling him,” I said.

“I think you kind of like Nick.”

“I absolutely do not kind of like Nick!”

“Yes, you do,” Jess said, turning back to the counter to get the coffee, which was ready now. “Even Elvis knows you’re not being honest when you say that. Look at his face.”

I leaned forward and looked at the cat. His ears were down and he had an oh, come on look in his half-lidded green eyes. I’d seen that look twice recently. I’d seen it when we’d all had lunch at the shop. Maddie had been petting Elvis while she told us what happened the day Arthur Fenety was killed. A story I knew now wasn’t true. I’d seen the same expression on the cat’s face when Jim Grant had stopped to pet him while he was telling me when he’d arrived in North Harbor.

Had he been less than honest, as well?

Jess was coming from the kitchen, carrying two mugs with the plate of cookies balanced on top of one of the cups. “You might have just helped me figure out who killed Arthur Fenety,” I said.

She handed me my cup and dropped down next to me on the sofa, setting the cookies between us. “Well, here’s to me,” she said, raising her mug in a toast. We clinked cups. Jess leaned against the back of the sofa, folding one arm over her head. “So, who is it?” she asked, reaching for a cookie.

“I think it might be Jim Grant.”

“Who’s he?”

“His mother was one of Fenety’s victims—one of his so-called wives, actually.” I broke a cookie in half and took a bite. Elvis sniffed my hand and then put his head down again. If it wasn’t fish or meat he wasn’t generally interested.

“So, what did I say to inspire this epiphany?” Jess asked.

I started to scratch behind the cat’s ear and he laid his head on my leg and stared to purr.

“You said that even Elvis knew I wasn’t exactly being honest about Nick. I realized I’d seen that look on his furry little face a couple of times before.”

“And I’m guessing one of those times this Jim Grant was petting him.”

“Exactly.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Am I crazy? Or is it possible that he can somehow sense when someone is lying?”

She shrugged. “If dogs can be trained to sniff out bombs or drugs, why couldn’t Elvis be able to tell if someone is lying? He’s a pretty smart cat.”

Elvis lifted his head, looked at Jess and meowed, as if in acknowledgment. She smiled at him. “Okay, so you think this guy set up Maddie. How are you going to prove it?”

I slumped against the back of the couch. “I haven’t exactly figured that part out yet,” I said.

Chapter 22

I didn’t call Charlotte or any of the others to tell them about my new theory or what Nick had told me. There wasn’t anything I could do tonight as far as Jim Grant went, and I didn’t want to upset everyone with what Nick had said. Maybe he’d be wrong.

I picked up Charlotte in the morning. She smiled when she got in the SUV and I felt a pang of guilt knowing I was going to shoot down her happy mood.

“I talked to Nicolas last night,” she said as she set her bag at her feet and fastened her seat belt.

“What did he say?” I asked carefully.

“I told him what we’d found out and he said he’d do whatever he could to persuade Detective Andrews and the prosecutor to drop the charges against Maddie.”

It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.

“You’re surprised,” she said.

I smiled, which was easy because Charlotte was happy. “Only a little bit,” I admitted, keeping my eyes on the road. “But I shouldn’t be, because Nick loves you and he’s a good guy.”

“Yes, he is,” Charlotte said, nodding slowly. “I hope he finds a woman who appreciates him.” I could feel her eyes on me.

“Are you trying to play matchmaker?” I asked.

“No, dear, I’m just making conversation,” she said.

I decided it was time to change the topic of the conversation. “Charlotte, do you remember when Jim Grant came in?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her nod. “Did you notice that he made a point of telling us that he didn’t get into town until Tuesday morning?”

“I hadn’t,” she said slowly. “But now that you mention it, yes, he did make sure we all heard that.”

I glanced over at her again.

“Sarah, do you think he killed Arthur?”

“I think it’s possible,” I hedged.

“So how are we going to prove it?”

“I have an idea,” I said slowly. “I don’t know if it’ll work.” The idea that had seemed brilliant at two a.m. felt a lot shakier over coffee with Elvis at six thirty.

“You haven’t let us down yet,” Charlotte said, pulling down the sleeve of her jacket. “Tell me your idea.”

“Poisoning Arthur at Maddie’s house was a crime of opportunity. No one knew he was going to be there because Maddie didn’t invite him until that morning.”

“So how did Jim Grant know?” Charlotte asked.

“I think he was following Arthur. Maybe he was hoping Arthur would lead him to the missing money and jewelry. Mr. P. said that Royce Collins saw Arthur in the park on the way to Maddie’s house.”