Rose was waiting in the hallway in the morning. She was wearing the scarf she’d gotten from Steven Tyler. Rose always claimed it was her good-luck charm.
“How were the crepes?” I asked.
“Delicious does not begin to describe them,” she said as we walked outside. “I had one with a fruit and cream cheese filling and another with chocolate and crushed hazelnuts.”
“They both sound good,” I said as I lifted Elvis onto the front seat of the SUV. He was starting to like being picked up.
“You could take Mac there. The atmosphere is very romantic.”
I laughed. “Is that why you took Mr. P. there?”
Rose gave me a sly smile. “It never hurts to stoke the flames a little.”
“Really sorry I asked that question,” I said. From the corner of my eye, I could see her grinning.
“So how was the concert?” she asked after a few moments’ silence.
I was grateful for the change of subject. “Loud and wild and wonderful. Jess said Mr. P. recommended the group.”
“He does have very wide-ranging tastes in music. Alfred is a Renaissance man.”
It seemed like an odd way to describe a little old man who wore his pants up under his armpits, but it was accurate.
Liz’s car pulled into the parking lot ahead of us.
“Oh good, she’s on time,” Rose said.
I looked over at her. “You called a meeting.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now,” she said.
“And you’re going to do something you think I won’t be in favor of.”
Rose looked thoughtful for a moment, a small frown pulling her eyebrows together and her lips pursed. “Well, yes, there is that, too,” she said.
“So are you going to tell me what that something is?” I asked. I tried to sound stern, but the effect is lost on someone who once changed your diapers.
She nodded. “Of course. At the meeting.”
She was out of the SUV before I could say anything else. She moved fast.
I scooped up Elvis, who could not be expected to walk across the parking lot on his big day.
We all trooped inside. Mr. P. had walked. His cheeks were rosy from the cool morning air. Liz had brought Charlotte and Avery with her.
I could smell coffee as soon as we were in the workroom. Mac was coming toward us carrying a tray with cups and napkins.
“The tea and coffee are all made as per your instructions,” Mac said to Rose.
She beamed at him. “Thank you so much. It’s a busy day and we don’t have a lot of time.” She looked around at the rest of us. “Take a seat, everyone. The clock is ticking.”
We filed in and took our places around the table. I got myself a cup of coffee.
“Pour one of those for me, please,” Liz said.
I reached for a cup. Avery frowned at us. “You don’t need coffee, Nonna,” she said.
“I most decidedly do, child,” Liz replied. “I need something to get rid of that foul concoction you made me drink for breakfast.”
Avery was unfazed. She put her hands on her hips and smiled at her grandmother. “A green juice every morning will boost your immune system. It’s much healthier than a cup of coffee.” She glanced at me. “No offense, Sarah.”
“None taken,” I said, leaning around her to hand Liz her coffee.
Charlotte had taken off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Now she set a large rectangular tin on the table and took the top off. I could smell apples and cinnamon. “Applesauce muffins?” I asked.
Charlotte nodded.
I reached for one, thinking Rose was pulling out all the stops.
Once we all had tea or coffee and one—or two—of Charlotte’s muffins Rose got to her feet. “Are we waiting for Nick?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not this time.”
So Nick wouldn’t like what she had planned, either.
Rose looked around the table. “I’ve been thinking about what Christine said to Sarah the day we had lunch, about the vandalism at the shows—maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the cats, maybe it was more personal. Well, what could be more personal than having an affair?”
I suddenly had a feeling I knew what Rose wanted to do.
She explained briefly about what she’d learned from Junie. “I want to watch James Hanratty to see who he hooks up with. It’s Saturday night and I can’t believe he won’t be connecting with his paramour. He’ll be heading home tomorrow. So we’re going to watch the Rosemont Inn, where he’s staying, and see if he goes anywhere or if anyone comes to see him.”
“What do you mean by ‘watch him’?” I asked as I reached for the coffee.
“I mean exactly that. Watch where he goes, watch who comes to see him. Take photographs. That’s it. I think if we cover the time between six o’clock and midnight that should be enough.”
It struck me that if Nick were there his face would be red and he’d be sputtering objections.
Rose looked at me. “Sarah, you and Charlotte have the first shift from six until eight.”
“All right,” I said.
She waited for a moment as if she expected me to say something else, but I just took a sip of my coffee.
“Liz and I will take the second shift from eight until ten.”
Liz didn’t seem surprised, which told me Rose had already run this part past her.
“And me,” Avery said.
“No,” Liz said.
Avery turned to look at her grandmother. “Why not? There’s nothing dangerous about being in the car with you and Rose except for maybe how fast you drive.” She reminded me so much of Liz. She had the same challenge in her eyes, the same matter-of-fact tone to her voice.
One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose just a fraction. “You’re not helping your case,” Liz said.
“I can keep you both awake.”
“Still not helping,” Liz retorted.
Avery leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. It made me think of an old Western with the young upstart going toe-to-toe against the grizzled veteran. “I have an iPhone with night mode that will let me take photos in the dark.”
Liz picked up her coffee cup. “No green drink and no speeches about how people with pets live longer.”
“Fine,” Avery said.
Round one to the upstart.
“And Alfred and Mac will take the last shift from ten until midnight,” Rose said. Mac looked surprised. Mr. P. didn’t.
“What if Mr. Hanratty leaves the inn?” Charlotte asked.
“Follow him,” Rose said. “This isn’t downtown Boston. It shouldn’t be a problem doing that without being seen. However, I suspect he’ll stay in.”
It occurred to me then that I hadn’t told Rose—or anyone else—about what Jess told me about seeing the producer with whom I was certain was Chloe Hartman. I was about to say something when my phone buzzed. I checked the screen. It was Dad.
I excused myself and went out into the workroom. “Hi, Dad, that was fast,” I said.
“I realized that my former student was in California so I called last night,” he said. “You were right. The producers of the treasure hunt show are pitching a project based on the cat show circuit. Now whether a pilot will get made is still up in the air.”
“What about the Lilleys?”
“They’re attached to the project as consultants at the moment, along with a woman named Chloe Hartman.”
I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Does this help at all?” Dad asked.
“It helps a lot,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
I put my phone in my pocket again and went back into the Angels’ office. Rose and Mr. P. were standing by his desk. Charlotte was talking to Avery and Mac and Liz were deep in conversation about who knew what.
“That was Dad,” I said to Rose.
“And?” Mr. P. prompted.
“And Suzanne and Paul Lilley are connected with the cat show project as consultants.”
“It doesn’t make the case for either of them having anything to do with the sabotage or the fire,” Mr. P. said. “If the cat shows are cancelled, there’s no reality show.”
Rose nodded. “I agree.”
“So do I,” I said. “I’m not sure they were ever really viable suspects, anyway.”
“Maybe we’ll learn something tonight,” she said.
“There is one more interesting piece of information I learned from Dad.”
“What is it?” Mr. P. asked, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
“Suzanne and Paul aren’t the only consultants attached to this project.”
Rose was already smiling. She’d made the connection.
“So is Chloe Hartman.”
Mr. P. made a face. “I should have guessed that one.”
“You did,” I said to Rose. “How?”
“Chloe is a self-made woman. Her father died when she was barely a toddler, leaving her mother with seven children and no family to help her.”
I shook my head. “That’s awful.”
“I have no doubt it was. Everything Chloe has today has come from hard work. Her hard work. I don’t see her saying no to an opportunity that has the possibility of making her money, not to mention leading to other opportunities.”
I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. I needed to go for a run. A long one. “I hope we do find out something tonight.”
“You can be at the Rosemont by six o’clock?” Rose asked.
“I can,” I said. “I’ll get Charlotte to bring her camera. She’s better at taking pictures than I am.”
Rose patted my arm. “Thank you, dear,” she said.
“I take it we’re not sharing this little side project with Nick?”
“I would never ask you to lie to Nicolas.” She gave me a smile.
“But I don’t have to bring the subject up, either.”
The smile got wider. “Exactly.”
I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She smelled like lavender. “Leave in about forty-five minutes?” I asked.
Mr. P. nodded. “That will be fine, Sarah,” he said. “Thank you.”
I walked over to join Charlotte and Avery. “Want me to go open up?” Avery asked.
“Please,” I said.
She grabbed the last muffin and headed for the front.
“So we’re Cagney and Lacey tonight?” Charlotte said with a smile. She had introduced me to the ’80s TV show. I’d binged on all seven seasons the previous winter.
“It seems we are,” I said. “Could you bring your camera, please? You’re just better in general at taking photos than I am.”
Charlotte nodded. “Of course I can.”
I put my arms around her shoulders. “Will this stakeout involve cookies?” I told myself if I was going for a long run then I could have a cookie or two tonight.
“You do know that we’re just going to sit in your SUV for two hours, don’t you?” she asked. “Rose has taken the middle shift because she thinks that’s when the action will be.”
“All the more reason for cookies,” I said, tilting my head to one side and batting my eyelashes at her like I was Elvis trying to wheedle a bit of bacon.
Charlotte laughed. “Child, you are single-minded. How about this? You’re probably not going to have time for supper. I’ll bring sandwiches and a cookie for dessert.”
I held up two fingers.
“Fine,” she said. “Two. Now unhand me. I have to go find my apron.”
I dropped off Rose, Elvis and Mr. P. at the show, giving the cat a kiss for good luck. Mac was out in the garage workshop looking at a vanity table and a matching stool when I got back.
“The answer is oxblood,” he said, “assuming your question was ‘What is that color?’”
“It was,” I said. Both the table and stool had been stained the same shade as a bottle of red wine. “My second question is, where did they come from?”
“Teresa pulled in maybe two minutes after you left. I bought a galvanized milk container and a glass shade that I’m about fifty percent certain will work on that old lamp that’s been in the workroom for the last six months.” He gestured at the furniture. “As for this, I traded that oak barrel that we ended up with when we cleaned out the house that belonged to Alfred’s poker buddy.”
“You mean the bat house,” I said, rubbing my wrist. I had sprained it chasing a bat out of the house with a broom. Mr. P.’s poker buddy had run off to Mexico with a woman he’d met online. It wasn’t one of those younger woman/older man things. The woman was actually five years older than he was and had lots of money.
“It seemed she liked the cut of Rodney’s jib,” Mr. P. had said in an incredulous tone. Rodney—at least in his photographs—was about the same size as Mr. P. He wore a bad toupee that Rose insisted the man had bought from a late-night infomercial. But he had a warm smile and a devilish glint in his eye and I hoped he and his lady friend were living it up south of the border.
We’d been hired to clear the house to the walls, sell what could be sold, dispose of what couldn’t and hand the keys over to Rodney’s real estate agent. What Rodney had forgotten to mention was that he hadn’t lived in the house in six months. I’d (eventually) taken care of the bat. Elvis had dealt with the rest of the squatters. The only thing we hadn’t been able to find a home for was an oak barrel.
“Rodney was going to make whiskey with that,” Mr. P. had said. “Or maybe a table.”
“So Teresa wanted the barrel?” I said. I walked around the vanity. It looked like it was in good shape other than a few loose joints. Painted a soft cream or some other pale color, it would be perfect for a girl’s bedroom.
Mac nodded. “I felt like I was taking advantage of her, but the funny thing is, when we made the trade I had the feeling she thought she might be taking advantage of me.”
I smiled at him. “That’s the best kind of deal. Both sides feel as though they got the upper hand.” My hands were cold and I stuffed them in my jacket pockets. “I need your opinion on something.”
“I have opinions,” he said. “What is it?”
“I’m thinking about closing the shop at one o’clock so we can all go to the show and cheer for Elvis. What do you think?”
“I think you should do it.”
“I will, then.” I hated to keep dumping all the work on him and Charlotte and it would be fun to have all of us there rooting on Elvis and Debra and Socrates. I reached over and pulled a bit of dried leaf off of his quilted jacket. “I’m sorry you’re not going to be my stakeout partner tonight.”
Mac smiled. “Me, too, but I think you’d be way too distracting. I mean no disrespect to Alfred, but you’re a lot cuter.”
I took a step closer to him. “In the interest of fair play, I should remind you that he’ll probably bring some of Rose’s coffee cake. She would never send the two of you out into the field without supplies.”
His forehead furrowed and he pulled his mouth to one side. “Rose’s coffee cake. That does change things. Just think about it: cinnamon, brown sugar, butter.”
I closed the gap between us, put one hand on his chest and kissed him. Then I turned and headed for the main building.
“Still thinking about cake?” I called over my shoulder.
“Not even a little bit,” he replied.
I didn’t think so.
At one o’clock, I put a large sign on the door telling any potential customers that we were closed for the day but would be open again on Monday morning. I had never closed the store early like this before. There were no bus tours with stops planned for North Harbor as far as I knew, so I was hoping we wouldn’t annoy too many customers.
Charlotte and I headed over to the arena. Mac left with Avery to pick up her friend Greg. “Avery knows how to find Elvis’s staging area,” I said.
“Okay,” Mac said. “I’ll see you there.”
I had to circle the parking lot twice before Charlotte spotted a place to park. “All these cars have to be a good thing,” she said as we walked toward the main doors.
“I think they are,” I said. “This place has been packed every day.”
She smiled. “There are a lot of cat people.”
“According to Rose, slightly more cat owners than dog owners.”
“I think Elvis has turned all of us into cat people.”
It was my turn to smile. “I had no idea when Sam set me up to take him that I’d ever be taking part in a cat show—and having so much fun.”
Charlotte nudged me with her hip. “So you’re saying Rose was right about entering Elvis in these two shows?”
I looked askance at her. “Well, not out loud,” I said.
She laughed. “Your secret is safe with me!”