“I think it’s possible. Why else would Michelle be looking for you?” I got three mugs down from the cupboard.
His eyes darted to the door again.
I knew what he was thinking. “Don’t,” I said softly. “Josh will be here in five minutes, tops. He drives faster than I do. If Erin was seriously hurt or in the hospital I think Michelle would have said so.”
When the coffee was ready I poured a cup for Mac and handed it to him. “There are no cookies,” I said. “But I do have soda crackers and”—I did a quick mental inventory of the cupboards and the fridge—“and that’s it.”
Elvis had made his way to the top of his cat tower. He lifted his head and meowed. “And Elvis seems to be willing to share his fish crackers with you.”
I poured another cup and added cream and two generous spoons of sugar. “I’ll be right back,” I said to Mac.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“I’m taking Michelle a cup of coffee.”
He reached out and caught my arm. “She’s right, Sarah,” he said. “You shouldn’t be mixed up in this whatever this is.”
“Question,” I said. “What would Rose do?”
Mac rolled his eyes, letting go of my arm. “Exactly what you’re about to do. Although she’d have cookies.”
“You can call her a bad influence, then, because I’m taking Michelle a cup of coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Michelle’s car was parked in front of the house. The rain had let up and she was leaning against the front passenger door, arms folded across her midsection, an expression I couldn’t read on her face.
I handed her the mug without comment.
“Thank you,” she said. She took a drink. “Umm, that’s good.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “So far, when it comes to cooking, coffee and gravy are my specialties.”
“You can go a long way in life with coffee and gravy,” she said. I was pretty sure I saw the corners of her mouth curve up. “Did you come out to try to wheedle some information from me?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I would have gone into Rose’s apartment and gotten a couple of cookies if I wanted to do that. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I meant what I said—calling Josh had nothing to do with me not trusting you.”
For a moment she didn’t say anything. She took another sip of her coffee. “I know,” she finally said. Her eyes met mine and I knew she was telling the truth.
“We’re good, then?” Our past estrangement had happened because I’d said something cruel in anger about Michelle’s father after he’d been convicted of embezzlement, something I hadn’t meant for her to hear and for a long time didn’t know that she had. My words had cut her deeply and I didn’t want to do that to her ever again.
“We’re good.” She did smile then. Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared again. “Sarah, how well do you know Mac?” she asked. She watched me over the top of her mug.
My heart started to thump in my chest and my stomach took a nervous dip. “I probably know him as well as anyone does here in town,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “And I trust him as much as I trust anyone—Jess or Rose. Or you.”
She nodded but she didn’t say anything else and neither did I.
Josh arrived a few minutes later. I’d known him most of my life and in a lot of ways the adult Josh wasn’t that different from the kid. He wore his sandy hair in the same short, spiky style he’d sported when he was twelve, except now I was fairly certain he wasn’t getting it styled at Supercuts. Thanks to a late growth spurt he was almost six feet tall and time had smoothed away a lot, but thankfully not all, of his endearing geekiness. He was wearing khaki shorts, a blue plaid shirt and deck shoes. He looked more like the kid who had gotten five of us free chocolate-dip cones at Hawthorne’s ice cream stand, arguing that their sign was deceptive, than the busy lawyer he was today.
Josh and Michelle followed me back inside, exchanging pleasantries about the weather. I knew Josh would say no to coffee, but I had two bottles of root beer in the refrigerator. I opened one, poured it over a glass of ice and handed it to him.
“Thanks, Sarah,” he said. He took a long drink and then looked at Michelle. “I need a minute to talk to my client.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait in the hallway.”
“So will I,” I said.
Mac frowned. “Sarah, you don’t have to go.”
“Yes, she does,” Josh said. He looked at me. “Thanks.”
Out in the hallway I slouched against the doorframe while Michelle leaned on the wall opposite the apartment door. She checked her phone; I studied the baseboard wondering if it needed a coat of paint.
Finally I gave her a sheepish smile. “Do you want to make awkward chitchat or just go for uncomfortable silence?”
“Let’s try awkward chitchat.”
My mind went blank. “Uh, nice weather we’ve been having lately,” I finally said.
Michelle laughed. “Uncomfortable silence is good, too,” she said.
Luckily Josh called us back in then. “You have some questions for Mac,” he said to Michelle, getting right to the point.
Her body language was all business—shoulders squared, feet planted slightly apart, face unreadable. “Do you know a woman named Erin Fellowes?” she asked Mac again.
Mac glanced at Josh, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes. Erin is—was—friends with my wife.”
Michelle knew Mac had a wife, I realized immediately. She had an excellent poker face but she wasn’t so good that there wouldn’t have been at least a small change of expression, a flash in her eyes, a tightening of the muscles in her jaw, if she hadn’t been aware of the information.
How long had she known? I couldn’t help wondering.
“Why are the police interested in Ms. Fellowes?” Josh asked. “Is she in some kind of trouble? Have you arrested her?” He adjusted the corner of his glasses with one finger. He still wore the same style of black-framed eyewear he’d worn as a kid, except now the frames were a designer brand and I doubted he’d repair them with duct tape or a length of picture frame wire if they broke.
Michelle’s sharp gaze went from Josh to Mac and back to the lawyer. This time I did see the muscles in her jaw clench, and all at once I knew what she was going to say. I knew why she was here to talk to Mac. Still, I waited to hear the words, hoping I would somehow be wrong.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “Erin Fellowes is dead.”
Chapter 3
“Are you sure?” Mac said. He’d gone pale.
Michelle nodded. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. My heart ached for him.
“What happened?” Josh asked.
“You know I can’t give you any details,” Michelle said. She was in police officer mode now.
“So why do you want to talk to my client?” I noted his choice of words: “my client,” not Mac. Josh was all business as well.
“Erin Fellowes had directions for Second Chance on her phone and three messages from Mac.”
“I’ve got directions for half a dozen places on my phone at any given time,” Josh said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And messages from all sorts of people. That doesn’t prove anything. What else do you have?”
Michelle didn’t answer. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, glanced at it and then put it away again.
“I know you have something,” he said. “You wouldn’t have shown up here and then waited for me if you didn’t.” He raised an eyebrow.
In return Michelle gave him a grudging smile. “Fine. Erin Fellowes was seen arguing with a man who matches Mac’s description down on the waterfront.”