“We know you were in Boston.”
“You’re wrong. I haven’t done anything.”
“You threatened me,” Rose said.
“You dented the hood of my truck,” Davis countered.
Somehow I doubted Rose’s palm hitting the hood of his truck had caused any damage.
Rose got her phone out. “I guess we’ll just have to let the police decide.”
Davis got a sullen look on his face. “Fine. I went to see Leila. But not at the house. Outside her office.”
Mac’s expression darkened. “Why?” he asked.
“I wanted to talk to her about challenging that damn trust. There had to be a way to get at least some of the money sooner. I got a copy of the agreement. I figured if Leila was on board then Stevie would agree, too.”
“There’s no way Stevie would have agreed to that,” Mac said, shaking his head. “She adored Marguerite.”
“I could have convinced her,” Davis said, his tone that of a petulant child.
“Leila told you no.” The muscles along Mac’s jaw tensed.
Davis nodded.
“Did you try to kill her?” Mac said.
“No,” Davis said. “After I left her, I went to this bar. I got drunk and went home with a woman I met there.” He held up his phone. “She still texts me. I can send you some of her texts and some pictures of the two of us together if you don’t believe me.”
“You do that, young man,” Rose said.
“Why did you come to town the same day Erin Fellowes did?” Mr. P. asked. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. It was warm standing there in the sunshine. “And why are you still here?”
“I didn’t see Erin. I didn’t even know she was here. I swear.” Davis threw a quick glance over his shoulder.
Just like that I got it. “You’ve been watching the film crew,” I said slowly. “You have an idea you want to pitch to them.”
Davis nodded. “Yeah. Stevie and I, the whole back-to-nature thing. We could do a reality show. We’re trying to market our fruit butter. This would be perfect.” He held up his phone. “I even shot some video.”
Behind him Liz rolled her eyes and mouthed the words “pipe dream.”
“That wasn’t the only reason you came here, though, was it?” I said, keeping my tone conversational.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Davis said, but I noticed the way his eyes slid off my face.
“It’s an awfully big coincidence that you decided to pitch an idea to a film crew working in the same small town where Mac lives.”
“Coincidences happen.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
The information about the planned filming of the reality show pilot here in North Harbor had been all over the Internet for months.
I moved a step closer to Davis. He shifted from one foot to the other as though I were making him uncomfortable. “I guess that means it was also just a coincidence”—I put extra emphasis on the word—“that you ended up parking in the lot for the business where Mac works.”
“What are you getting at, Sarah?” Mac asked, his voice tight with suspicion.
“I think Davis was hoping to bump into you. Coincidentally, of course. He needed a backup plan in case his reality show idea didn’t pan out. I’m guessing his and Stevie’s money problems are worse than we suspected.”
Davis’s expression darkened and his mouth had a sour twist. I knew I was right.
“I’m guessing he was going to point out that breaking the trust now was the best thing for Leila. That it’s what Stevie wanted.” Another idea had occurred to me. Rose would say I was going out on a limb, but seeing the kind of person Davis Abbott was, I had a feeling I was right.
“We wondered how Erin knew Mac was here. They hadn’t kept in touch and Stevie hadn’t spoken to her in ages.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Except Erin did call, didn’t she? Only she spoke to you.” It was a guess but the flush that crept up his neck told me it was a good one. “I doubt she told you why she wanted to talk to Mac, but you thought you better get down here and push your own agenda, just in case.”
Davis mumbled something I didn’t catch and made a crude gesture with his left hand.
Mac pushed past me and grabbed Davis by the neck of his shirt. He was breathing hard, the veins standing out in his neck. “You scummy little weasel!” he growled. I thought for a moment that he was going to take a swing at Davis and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. “Stay away from my wife,” he said in a voice edged with anger. “Stay away from everyone I care about or so help me I will find you and you’ll wish you’d never heard my name!” He let go of Davis’s shirt and walked away.
Mr. P. got the contact information for the woman from the bar and gave Davis his e-mail address for the photos he’d offered and told him to call Stevie.
“I’ll contact the young woman and check that alibi but I think it’s the truth,” Mr. P. said as we walked back to the cars. “I think he lacks the initiative to make up that bar story.”
“I think he lacks initiative, period,” Liz said.
Mac was waiting by the car. “I can’t believe what a lowlife he is.” He pulled a hand back over his head. “The first time Stevie brought Davis to a family event Jackson said he was a freeloader,” he said quietly to me. “I told Jackson that he sounded like a snob.” He shook his head. “I’m thinking maybe I should talk to him, at least listen to what he has to say.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I agreed.
Avery was still leaning against Liz’s car. “Did you find the truck dude?” she asked.
“Yes, we did,” I said.
“So did he do it?” She seemed genuinely curious. She wanted to find Erin Fellowes’s killer and clear Mac’s name as much as any of us did.
“No,” Rose said. “It doesn’t look like he did.”
“Well, that sucks,” Avery said as she stuck her cell phone in her pocket.
I agreed. It did.
We all headed back to the shop, with Liz making a detour to drop off the butter tarts. I sent Avery inside to open the shop. We were only five minutes past opening time. I turned to Rose. “What you did could have been dangerous,” I said sternly.
Rose smiled. “No, it couldn’t,” she said. “I knew Avery would call and I knew you would come. There was never any danger.” She put her arms around me and gave me a hug. “I’m parched. I’m going to put the kettle on.”
I watched her go and when the door to the shop closed behind her I shook my finger at Liz.
“Why are you annoyed at me?” Liz asked. “I was watching over Rose. I should get a reward.”
I ran a hand through my hair and held up some strands. “Not only is my hair falling out, I found a gray hair last week,” I said. I pointed at her. “You and Rose gave it to me.”
Liz gave a snort of disdain. “It’s genetic. Isabel went gray very early. You should call Elspeth and have some highlights put in. They’d cover that gray.”
I let the hairs flutter to the floor. “I’m going to make coffee. Lots of strong coffee,” I said.
“I love you,” Liz teasingly called after me.
I knew what I was supposed to say. I lifted a hand but didn’t turn around. “Yeah, yeah, everybody does,” I said.
Later that morning I was on the way out to the garage just as Mac was on the way in. Mr. P. came to the sunporch door. “Do you both have a moment?” he asked.
“Sure,” Mac said.
We followed Mr. P. back to his computer. “I spoke to the young lady Davis Abbott had his assignation with,” he said. “I can safely say he has an alibi for his time in Boston. She had some rather”—he paused and adjusted his glasses—“revealing photos with time stamps. I don’t think there’s any need to show them to you.”
“I appreciate that,” Mac said dryly.
“I also found photos of Davis out drinking with that reality show TV crew on one of the crew member’s Twitter feed. He didn’t kill Erin Fellowes, either. I’m sorry.”