Telling Tails Read online

“And she may have had my phone with her.”

  “May have?” I asked.

  “All right, she did have my phone. It ended up in her bag by mistake.”

  Things were getting more complicated by the moment. “And that would be because . . . ?”

  “I was showing Avery a video on my phone because she only has text and calling—no data on her own phone.” Rose’s gaze shifted over to Liz.

  “Avery has a perfectly good computer at home with Wi-Fi,” Liz said. “She doesn’t need data on her phone because she spends too much time with her head bent over it as it is.”

  Rose sighed. “You sound like you’re a hundred and six when you say things like that.”

  Liz made a dismissive gesture with one hand. They’d had several versions of this conversation before.

  “What happened after that?” I asked, reaching for the glass of water on the table next to the bed and handing it to Rose.

  She took a sip before answering. “Liz wanted me to take her phone. I told her I’d be fine without a phone for one night and she left.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Liz nod.

  “I think Mr. Cameron may have heard us talking,” Rose continued. “When I went back to the counter he said he needed to get going, so he gave me his cell number and asked if I’d call him about four thirty and he’d be able to tell me then when his wife would be home.”

  “So that’s what you did?”

  Rose nodded once more. “I had the address, and it just seemed easier to call a taxi and go over there myself. It wasn’t a lot different from having the gift delivered.”

  “The driver didn’t wait?” I asked.

  “I told him not to, so don’t get on Tim’s case.”

  I cleared my throat for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. There were no answers up there. I looked at Rose again. “I’m assuming you had a good reason for not getting the driver to wait.”

  “No, I had a stupid reason,” she said calmly.

  I’d crossed the line, I realized. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She smiled and patted my hand the way she often did when she was humoring me. “I thought after I gave Mrs. Cameron her gift—her first name is Leesa, by the way—I’d walk down to Sam’s, call Alfred, and see if he wanted to join me for pizza.”

  “Yes, I would have,” Mr. P. immediately said.

  “I’ve been wanting to try the sausage and mushroom pizza ever since Sam told me he was getting that all-natural sausage from that little place in Lisbon Falls,” Rose said.

  We were about to get way, way off track. “We’ll get one on the weekend,” I said.

  “That’s a lovely idea,” Rose said. “We should see if Nicolas and Charlotte are free. And I could teach you how to make Caesar salad.”

  Mr. P. cleared his throat. They exchanged a look and Rose gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Or maybe apple-carrot salad would be a better choice?” She looked over at Liz and I saw her eyes dart, briefly, in my direction.

  She was still trying to play matchmaker between Nick and me. They all were—Rose, Liz, Charlotte, who was also Nick’s mom. Even Mr. P. apparently. That was why Rose had nixed the Caesar salad; the garlic would derail any romance, at least in her mind.

  I rubbed the space between my eyes with the side of my thumb. We were officially off track into the conversational bushes.

  Rose caught the gesture. “Do you have a headache, dear?” she asked. “I can just press this little button and have the nurse bring you a couple of Tylenol. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Rosie, you were about to tell us what happened after the taxi dropped you off at Mr. Cameron’s house,” Mr. P. interjected.

  “That’s right, I was,” Rose said. She studied my face for a moment and seemed satisfied with whatever she saw there. “There were no lights on in the house, but it wasn’t really dark and I thought maybe Mrs. Cameron was in the backyard.” She leaned around me. “They’re renting the Baxter place while they look for a house to buy.” She directed her words to Liz.

  Liz nodded. “Screened-in gazebo,” she said quietly to me.

  “There was no one in the backyard,” Rose continued, “so I knocked on the side door, and when there was no answer I looked through the porch window.” She held up her bandaged hand. “And before anyone thinks I was just being nosy, I was trying to be certain Mrs. Cameron wasn’t home. I didn’t have my phone, so I couldn’t exactly call her, now, could I?”

  “Where was Jeff Cameron’s body?” I asked.

  “I was just getting to that,” Rose said. “When I looked through the porch window it gave me a bit of a view into the kitchen. Those cottages aren’t very big.”

  “You saw Mr. Cameron in the kitchen,” Mr. P. spoke up from the foot of the bed.

  Rose nodded slowly, her expression suddenly serious. “He was on the floor.”

  “Were his eyes open or closed?” I asked.

  “I didn’t see his face,” she said. She paused for a moment, replaying the scene in her mind, I was guessing. “I saw his watch and a bit of one cheek. His head was slumped forward like this.” She dropped her chin to her chest. “And of course those fire-engine red shoes.”

  The Newton Gravity IVs Jeff Cameron had been wearing when he’d been at the shop.

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried to get a better look. I banged on the glass. I tried the door, but it was locked.” Rose was absently smoothing the bandage on her left arm. “Then something hit the back of my head—I’m certain it was that boat fender—and the next thing I knew I woke up to a very nice dog nudging me with his rather cold nose and I was two houses away.” She turned to Mr. P. “Remind me to make some dog biscuits.”

  He nodded. I saw the lines pulling around his eyes and mouth again and knew Rose’s story worried him.

  Rose focused her attention back on me. “Sarah, someone else was in that kitchen, someone in a pink hooded sweatshirt. I just caught a glimpse of her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yes. I think the person in the pink hooded sweatshirt was a woman. And not just because it was pink.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  Rose tugged at the neck of the hospital nightgown. “Will you think I’m being an old fool if I say I just have a feeling?”

  “You’re not an old fool, but I think it would help if you could put your reasons into words.”

  “All right.” Her gray eyes narrowed. “That sweatshirt.” She lifted her hands to her shoulders. “It was baggy. Avery has one that she wears—the black one—and the shoulders were the same. The seam at the top of the shoulder comes down onto her arm. It was the same for the person wearing that pink one. It didn’t fit right.”

  Rose was very observant. I didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d caught that detail even though she’d gotten only a quick look at the person. “Anything else?”

  “When the person—she—raised her head I keep feeling I saw something that made me think I was looking at a woman. Cheekbones maybe, or mouth. I can’t be sure.” She pushed back the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  I caught her by the arm. “Where are you going?”

  “We can’t waste any more time talking,” Rose said, squaring her shoulders. “Leesa Cameron killed her husband. We have to do something.”

  Chapter 3

  No one said anything. Rose pressed her lips together for a moment, and her chin came up. “You don’t believe me.”

  Liz spoke first. “You were hit on the head pretty hard.”

  “Get out,” Rose said.

  “I’m not saying you didn’t see something,” Liz said, gesturing with one hand. “But it was starting to get dark, you said yourself you could only see a small bit of the kitchen and then somebody hit you over the he
ad. You might not have seen what you thought you saw—that’s all. The police didn’t find any body.”

  Liz turned to me. “I talked to Mo’s grandson. He was still here when I got here. He said he checked the yard at the Cameron’s house, he knocked on both doors and he even looked through the window. He didn’t see anyone—alive or dead.”

  Rose picked up the call button that had been lying next to her on the bed. She held it up, finger poised over the end as though she was about to eject us all out of our seats. “Get out of my room right now or I will have you thrown out.”

  Her voice was steady and even, which was an indication of how angry she was. Where most people got louder when they were angry, Rose became cool, quiet and focused. “I don’t care if you are Elizabeth Emmerson Kiley French; you’re not welcome here right now,” she said.

  Liz looked stricken, the color draining from her face. She got to her feet, her eyes never leaving Rose’s face.

  I stood up as well and put a hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Just . . . just go. I’ll take care of everything here and I’ll call you later.” She pressed her lips together and her eyes slowly slid to meet mine. “Go,” I repeated. With one backward glance at Rose, she did.

  Rose fixed her gaze on me, a clear challenge in her eyes. “Do you believe me?” she asked.

  I folded my arms over my chest and tipped my head to one side to study her. The hospital gown and robe were several sizes too big, her hair was going in all directions and there was a large bandage on her wrist. But a mix of defiance and anger burned in her eyes. Rose may have been tiny, but I would have rather taken on a black bear over a picnic basket than get into a skirmish with her.

  “Well, if I didn’t, do you think I’d be stupid enough to tell you?” I asked. “And for the record, I do believe you, although you can’t be certain Leesa Cameron killed her husband. You don’t have any definite proof that Jeff Cameron is dead, let alone that she did anything. He could just be injured.”

  “Then we better get going.” She looked at Alfred. “Could you get my clothes, please, Alf? I think they’re in that closet.” She pointed at a small locker on the wall opposite the end of the bed. Then she scanned the floor. “Does anyone know what they did with my shoes?”

  “Rosie, what are you doing?” Mr. P. asked.

  “I’m getting dressed so I can sign myself out of here and go back to the cottage so we can find out what happened to Mr. Cameron.” She leaned sideways and shook a finger at a space just past my left shoulder. “Sarah dear, my shoes are by that chair. Could you hand them to me, please?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  That got all her attention. She straightened up. “You could go with Liz,” she said, a warning edge to her voice.

  “Not happening,” I said. “As your daughter”—I put an extra emphasis on the last word—“I’m telling you that you’re staying here until the doctor says you can leave. I’ll call Michelle and the two of us will go over to Jeff Cameron’s cottage and find out what’s going on.”

  “You’re not my daughter,” Rose said. “Not really. That was just a ruse perpetrated by Liz.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said cheerfully.

  Both Rose and Mr. P. looked confused at my apparent unconcern.

  I held up my cell phone. “But I would be happy to call Abby, who is your real daughter, so she can weigh in on all of this.” I made a sweeping gesture with one hand as though I were a Price Is Right spokesmodel showing off the prizes for the Showcase Showdown. “Or have you already called her?”

  For a long moment we stared at each other. Then Rose sighed and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “All right,” she said. “But what are you going to do if Michelle is busy? You shouldn’t go over there by yourself.”

  “People who live in glass houses, Rose,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “I get your point,” she said. “But it doesn’t really apply, because when I went over there I didn’t know there was a killer in that house.”

  I exhaled slowly. “If Michelle isn’t available, I’ll call Nick. If I can’t get him, I’ll go get Mac. I won’t go by myself.” I nudged her legs with my knee. She swung them back on the bed and I pulled the sheet and blanket back over her again.

  “I heard that tone,” she said.

  “Good,” I told her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’d hate to think I’d been too subtle.” I moved to the bottom of the bed. “I’m going to call Charlotte so you’ll have backup,” I said to Mr. P. I jerked my thumb in Rose’s direction. “If she tries anything before Charlotte gets here, sit on her.”

  Mr. P. gave me a smile. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he said, hiking up his pants, which were already up close to his armpits. “I’ll watch her like a hawk.”

  I walked out to the nurses’ station, pulled out my cell and called Charlotte, giving her the short version of what was going on.

  “You’re certain Rose is all right?” she asked.

  “She kicked Liz out of her room and gave me a hard time about going over to the Cameron house by myself,” I said. “She’s fine.”

  “You aren’t going over there by yourself, are you?” Charlotte immediately asked.

  “No, I’m going to call Michelle,” I said. “I think the police need to be involved. Rose was attacked by someone and it’s possible something has happened to Jeff Cameron.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. I’m on my way. Call me when you know anything, and be careful.”

  I promised I would and said good-bye. I knew I could count on Charlotte to handle things. She was a former school principal, sensible, dependable and unflappable.

  It was busy by the nurses’ station, so I decided to go out to my SUV to call Michelle, where it would be quieter. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain everything to her, and I was glad of the extra few minutes to think things through.

  Detective Michelle Andrews and I had been best friends growing up, at least for July and August each year. We’d both been summer kids in North Harbor, and every July first we’d just pick up the friendship where we’d left off at the end of the previous summer. At fifteen Michelle had suddenly stopped talking to me. I’d only recently found out why. Now we were working on putting our friendship back together.

  I slid behind the wheel and pulled my phone out again. My hands were shaking. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes for a moment. The rush of adrenaline that had powered me since Liz had called was wearing off. I pressed a hand to my chest and I could feel my heart hammering.

  I took a couple of slow, deep breaths, in through my nose, out through my mouth, the way I’d learned at a stretching class Jess had dragged me to. Rose was all right. She was feisty and angry, but she was all right, and hopefully Michelle would be able to help me connect with Jeff Cameron and figure out what Rose had seen. And then I was going to make Rose phone her daughter. No excuses.

  Michelle picked up on the fourth ring. “I heard about what happened to Rose,” she said. “Is she all right?”

  “She is. They’re just waiting for the results from some blood tests and then they’ll discharge her.” I cleared my throat. “I’m in the parking lot at the hospital right now, and I need a favor.”

  “Sure, what is it?” she asked.

  “I’m just going to give you the short version,” I said. “Because if I give you the long one we’ll be here half the night. Rose was making a very unauthorized delivery of a pair of candlesticks to a customer, Jeff Cameron—to his wife, actually. Rose was at the side door of the cottage they’re renting at Windspeare Point and someone hit her over the head. Whoever hit her moved her a couple of houses away.”

  “Was anything taken?” Michelle asked. “Her purse? Her phone? Any of her jewelry?”

  Liz had had both the gift-wrapped candlesticks and Rose’s purse in the L.L. Bean bag. Rose had been wearing her watch, I�
�d noticed. And Avery had her phone. “Not as far as I know.”

  “I’ll follow up with the officer who responded, see if he has any leads.”

  I raked my hand back through my hair again. “Thank you,” I said, “but that’s not the favor.”

  “Okay,” Michelle said slowly. I could hear the curiosity in her voice.

  I was beating around the bush and I needed to just say it. “Before she was hit over the head, Rose saw something in the Camerons’ kitchen.” I cleared my throat again. “Someone . . . in a pink hoodie dragging what she believes was Jeff Cameron’s body.”

  For what felt like a very long moment, Michelle didn’t say anything. “Are you certain?” she finally asked.

  “Rose is.”

  “She thinks . . . what?”

  “That Leesa Cameron killed her husband. Look, I know the officer who responded went to the Camerons’ cottage and didn’t find any body, but Rose insists she saw one.”

  I heard Michelle blow out a breath on the other end of the phone. I pictured her at her desk, head propped up on her hand, even though I had no idea where she actually was. “That’s a pretty serious accusation.”

  “I know.”

  “Could she have misunderstood what she saw? Maybe it was some kind of . . . adult . . . game.”

  “For the record, yuck!” I made a face even though she couldn’t see it. “As for what she saw, I don’t know. That’s the favor. I want to go over to the Camerons’ house and see if either of them is there. Will you come with me?”

  “Right now?”

  “If you can.” I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes for a moment.

  “I can do that. I’m just about ready to leave for the night,” Michelle said. “Do you want me to pick you up or meet you there?”

  “I’ll meet you there.” I gave her the address.

  “Give me about twenty minutes.”

  I felt a little of the tension ease out of my body. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Hey, Sarah, anytime,” she said.

  I ended the call, tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out my car keys. I started the SUV and then looked over at my phone. Should I call Liz? No, I decided. If she knew where I was going, she was apt to show up with some questions of her own. I didn’t need her butting heads with Michelle. I’d call her once there was something to report. And I fervently hoped there would be very little to report.