Софи Райан - The Whole Cat Аnd Caboodle

Nick had always been tall, but he was well over six feet now. He was wearing a navy Windbreaker over a sky blue polo shirt and black pants with multiple pockets on the sides. Charlotte got out of the truck on the driver’s side and walked around to him. He said something to the police officer and then turned his attention to his mother, putting one hand on her shoulder.

I felt a little silly just standing there next to what looked like a bed of daylilies, but I didn’t want to intrude on Nick and Charlotte’s conversation. Finally I saw Charlotte point in my direction and Nick turned my way for the first time. He said something to his mother, gave her shoulder a squeeze and started toward me.

It had been years since I’d seen him and it looked as though those years had been good to him. The sandy hair was the same, only shorter. And he was still built like a big teddy bear—but now the bear seemed to have the shoulders of a defensive lineman. He wasn’t quite the shaggy-haired, wannabe musician I remembered from all the summers I’d spent in North Harbor when I was growing up. He definitely wasn’t the same guy I’d French-kissed at fifteen.

Then he smiled at me and I caught a glimpse of the boy I remembered. “Sarah, hi,” he said.

I smiled back. “Hi, Nick,” I said, taking a couple of steps forward to meet him. “You got my message.”

“You left me a message?” He frowned and felt in his pocket for his cell phone, setting down the boxy silver case he was carrying. I wondered what had happened to the black nylon backpack full of first-aid supplies that he’d used to carry everywhere.

I looked at him uncertainly. “If you didn’t get my message, then what are you doing here?”

He gestured over his shoulder at the car angled at the curb in front of my truck. “I’m here because Michelle called me.”

From the time I was twelve years old until I was fifteen, Michelle Andrews had been my best friend in North Harbor. Each summer we’d just pick up again where we’d left off. Then right after my fifteenth birthday, all of a sudden, she stopped talking to me. I still didn’t know why. I’d known Michelle had become a police officer, but somehow it felt different to see her as a police officer.

“Michelle?” I said stupidly, even though I could see her getting out of the driver’s side of the car. She was wearing gray pants, an emerald green shirt and a black leather jacket. Her red hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail.

Nick nodded. “She caught the case.”

I’d known things were going to get complicated—just not this complicated. I’d realized that as soon as the first police officer saw the body, with its blue lips and blood-specked froth at the corner of the mouth, he’d call for a detective.

I had no idea how Arthur Fenety had died, but I was certain it wasn’t from natural causes.

Chapter 4

I stared at Nick for a long moment—which wasn’t hard to do. “I don’t understand,” I said. “Michelle called you? Why?” I gave him a small smile to soften the words. “No offense.”

He smoothed a hand over the back of his head and gave me a wry smile. “You haven’t heard.”

I had no idea what he meant. “I guess not,” I said.

“I’m working for the medical examiner.” He half turned and I saw the words State Medical Examiner’s Office on the back of his jacket.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Doing what?”

Nick shrugged. “Death investigator.”

“I thought you were taking a job teaching EMT classes in Standish.” For the past four-plus months I’d spent all my time either working at Second Chance or working on my house, so I was a little out of the loop as far as what was going on around North Harbor, but I hadn’t thought I was that out of it.

He glanced over at my truck and then his gaze came back to me. “I turned it down,” he said quietly.

Nick had a degree in biology and I knew that for a while he’d thought about going to med school. He’d worked as an EMT to put himself through college. I was about to ask him why the change in plans when Michelle joined us.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said. Her smile was cool and professional.

“Hi,” I said. It was the first time I’d seen Michelle face-to-face since I’d come home to North Harbor and I suddenly realized that she had to have been avoiding me for the past six months. Outside of tourist season the town was just too small not to bump into pretty much everyone.

An awkward silence hung between us for a moment. At least it felt awkward to me.

Michelle looked at Nick. “I know it’s not part of your job description, but before you look at the body would you mind checking on Mrs. Hamilton?” she asked. “See if she needs to go to the hospital?”

“Of course.” He looked at me then. He didn’t smile exactly, but the warmth in his eyes was hard to miss. “Good to see you, Sarah,” he said, reaching down to pick up his case.

I nodded. “You too, Nick.”

He headed across the grass, and Michelle waited until he reached the curb before she turned her attention back to me. “How have you been?” she asked. Her tone was polite, almost formal.

For a moment I thought about waving a hand in front of her face and reminding her that it was me, reminding her about the time Gram had taken us to Portland overnight and we’d snuck out to buy padded bras to enhance our boyish fourteen-year-old, pretty much nonexistent figures. Gram hadn’t been fooled by the old pillows-under-the-blankets trick. And I don’t think she’d really bought our story that Michelle had “forgotten” to pack any clean underwear, either. But then Michelle had pulled a pair of white cotton underpants—granny panties, really—out of her hot pink faux-fur-trimmed bag. Our alibi, she’d called the underwear when she’d dragged me into a dollar store to buy it on the way back to the hotel.

But I didn’t. We’d already had a very melodramatic version of that conversation years ago and it hadn’t changed anything. So all I said was, “Things are going well.”

She gave a slight nod and took a small notebook and a pen out of the pocket of her jacket. “What were you and Mrs. Elliot doing here?” she said.

I told her about the workshop, how Maddie hadn’t shown up and Charlotte and I had decided to check on her. I explained how we’d found Maddie and how I’d sent her with Charlotte to wait in the truck while I called 911.

Michelle nodded silently and made notes. “Did you see anyone else?” she asked, when I stopped talking.

I shook my head.

“Did Mrs. Hamilton say anything?”

“No. Just that Arthur Fenety was dead. I could see that she was right, but I checked for a pulse just to be sure.”

She frowned. “Did you know him?”

“He came into the shop a couple of days ago. I bought a silver tea set from him. The next day he changed his mind and wanted to buy it back.”

“I’ll send somebody over to get that.” She looked over my shoulder toward the backyard and then her gaze settled on my face again. “Is there anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, absently rubbing my hands together.

Her expression softened a little. “I, uh, heard about your radio show,” she said. “I’m sorry. I used to listen to it.”

For a moment I could see a glimpse of the fifteen-year-old who used to be my best friend. I gave her a wry smile. “Thank you. According the new station owner most of my listeners were over-the-hill hippies who wore Birkenstocks and ate tofu.”

Michelle glanced down at her stylish black boots, then back at me. “Well, I do like the orange-ginger tofu stir-fry at McNamara’s,” she said, and a hint of a smile flashed across her face.