Fatal Fixer-Upper (20 page)

'Could have fooled me,' Kate muttered. 'Listen, Avery. No offense. I don't know you very well, but unless you're planning to stick around for a while—say, a year or three— do everyone a favor and don't get involved.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'If you're just planning to have some fun for the summer, find someone else to play with. Someone who won't mind when you leave.'

'Oh,' I said, silenced. I hadn't thought of it that way. Up until now, I'd been thinking I didn't want to get too close to anyone in Waterfield because of how difficult it would be for
me
when I left. I hadn't considered how the other person might feel. And especially if it was Derek, who'd already been left once before.

In the silence, the swinging butler door from the dining room opened, and a dark head popped in. 'Hey, Mom . . . oh, I'm sorry, Avery. I didn't realize we had company.' Shannon and I exchanged smiles.

'I'm not exactly company,' I clarified. 'Your mother's putting me up for the night because the police are crawling all over my house.'

'Gosh,' Shannon said, coming all the way into the kitchen, 'what happened?'

While Kate filled her in on the furniture heist, I contemplated the girl. She seemed intrigued by the whole thing, making suggestions for what might have happened and aligning herself with Derek in thinking that Philippe must have been behind it. She wanted to meet him, she said, to check him out for herself. There was nothing cagey or evasive about her tonight; she entered into the game with gusto.

'By the way,' I said in a lull in the conversation, 'remember that bike I told you about last week? It was Professor Wentworth's after all.'

Shannon nodded. 'Josh told me. Brandon Thomas told him.'

'I don't suppose you've heard any news, have you?'

She shook her head. 'Just that the bike was Martin's and was found in your aunt's shed. So I guess they did know each other. But beyond that, I have no idea what was going on.'

'Wayne said he used an appointment book to keep track of his classes and appointments. The police found the one for last year, but not the one he was using now. I guess maybe he had it with him when he left.'

'Probably,' Shannon agreed. She got up from the table without meeting my eyes. I noticed that she was blushing bright red. 'Hey, Mom, is it OK if I take the car out? I won't be gone long.'

'Sure,' Kate said. 'The keys are on the hook by the door. Drive carefully.'

'Nice to see you again, Avery.' Shannon disappeared without waiting for my answer.

Kate smiled apologetically. 'Sorry, Avery. Ever since she started going to Barnham this fall, she's been more reluctant to talk about what's going on in her life. One of those coming-of-age things, I guess.'

'I guess.'

'She's a good student,' Kate continued. 'She's not pregnant, and she's not using drugs. I know the signs, and believe me, I look for them. And her friends are nice kids. Paige is so quiet you hardly notice her being there, and Josh is a sweetheart. No trouble with any of them.'

'I'm sure,' I said, and forced a smile. 'Let's talk about something else, OK? If you're finished grilling me about Derek, why don't I return the favor? Tell me about how you and Police Chief Rasmussen met.'

Kate grinned. 'It was a dark and stormy night . . .' she began. I popped a spoonful of mint chocolate chip in my mouth and settled in for the long haul.

15

––I was sitting at Kate's dining room table the next morning, indulging in pecan pancakes and coffee, when Derek wandered in.

'Morning.' He inspected the dining room thoroughly, leaving me not entirely sure if he was looking for someone or just reassuring himself that he'd done a good job on the renovations.

'Morning,' I answered, around a mouthful of pancake.

'Have a seat.' I waved my fork at the chair opposite.

'Don't mind if I do.' He turned the chair around and straddled it, eyeing my breakfast. 'You know, I'd have married Kate for her cooking alone.'

'Why didn't you?'

He grinned. 'She wouldn't have me.'

'I don't blame her. Nobody wants to be wanted just for their cooking.'

'Oh, Kate has other assets, as well.' He laughed when he saw my expression, but he didn't push the issue. 'Sleep well?'

'Fine, thanks. You?'

'Not bad. Ready to go re-key all those new locks?'

I grimaced. 'I guess.'

'Finish your breakfast first. Maybe I can get Kate to feed me, too.' He looked around.

'She's in the kitchen. Why don't you let her know you're here?' I speared another piece of pancake. 'I'll be done in a few minutes, and then we can leave. We may have to make a stop on the way.'

He stopped halfway to the door. 'Yeah? Where?'

'I'll tell you later.' I turned my attention back to breakfast. Derek shrugged and pushed open the door to the kitchen.

. . .

It was thirty minutes later when we finally got out of the B and B. As soon as Kate saw Derek, she insisted on making him his very own batch of pecan pancakes and a fresh pot of coffee, and she stood over him to make sure he ate every crumb. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear her mutter darkly about how thin he was.

'I thought Shannon would be here,' he said between bites.

Kate shook her head. 'She left early this morning. Before Avery got up. It's just as well; if you keep flirting with her, she'll never give up on the idea that she wants to marry you when she grows up.'

'If she can cook like you, I just might do that. Of course, it's not right to marry someone just because of their cooking.' He grinned at me.

'Damn right,' I said.

'I think she might have a boyfriend, anyway,' Kate added. 'I caught her whispering with Paige on the phone a few times over the winter. Whenever she saw me coming, they stopped talking. Hopefully he's not some long-haired, tattooed musician.'

'Hopefully,' I said lightly.

Derek gave me a sharp glance.

'We should go. Thanks for breakfast, Kate.' He stood, giving her a peck on the cheek, and she smiled up at him.

'Look out for Avery. Make sure nothing happens to her.'

'I'll do my best. You ready?' He glanced at me. I nodded.

'Let's go, then. See you later, Kate.'

'Thanks for letting me stay here,' I added. 'When I sell Aunt Inga's house, I'll pay you back for all these nights of free lodging.'

Kate smiled. 'Don't worry about it. When the room isn't reserved, it's just sitting there, so you may as well use it. And I enjoy talking to you. Let me know how things go today.'

. . .

'So,' Derek said as soon as we were in the truck with the engine started. 'You said we have to make a stop. Where are we going?'

'To talk to Shannon McGillicutty.'

'Why?'

'I have a theory.' He nodded for me to continue, so I did.

'Kate thinks Shannon had a boyfriend over the winter. She used to whisper with her friend Paige on the phone. Kate said she's been secretive and closemouthed ever since she started at Barnham last fall. She never mentioned her boyfriend's name or brought him home to see her mother. The only person she ever brought home was Professor Wentworth, because he drove her home after they ‘worked on a special project together.' ' I made quotation marks in the air with my fingers.

Derek looked over at me, but didn't say anything. I continued. 'She's been upset since Professor Wentworth disappeared, and she's also not whispering on the phone anymore. She has, or used to have, a crush on you, so she obviously likes older men. And when I asked her about him last night, she called him by his first name.'

'Nice theory,' Derek said. 'But you're wrong.'

I was? 'How do you know?'

'Because he was seeing someone else.'

I blinked, disconcerted. 'Surely not my aunt Inga?'

Derek smothered a laugh. 'Your aunt was ninety-eight, Avery. Professor Wentworth is younger than me. No, he wasn't seeing your aunt. Not that way, at least.'

'So who was he seeing? And how do you know?'

'Saw him with someone. She looked young, but it wasn't Shannon.' I looked at him, and after a moment he went on.

'I was renovating someone's bathroom over in the condo complex where Martin Wentworth's apartment is, and I was working late, because I was hoping to finish the job that night. It was around eight o'clock when I heard a car door slam outside. I looked out, because I thought it might be my client coming home.'

'But it wasn't?'

He shook his head. 'It was a girl with blonde hair. Running across the courtyard while a car peeled away from the curb. I watched her knock on Professor Wentworth's door, and from the way she greeted him, if she was a student, she wasn't there for private tutoring.' He hesitated for a second before he added, fairly, 'Unless it was a different kind of tutoring.'

'What did you do?' I asked.

'What do you think I did? I finished the job I was hired to do. None of my business what the professor was doing on his free time, was it?'

'I guess not,' I admitted. If it had been Shannon, presumably Derek would have made it his business, but under the circumstances, I guess there wasn't a whole lot he could have done, really. 'Was she someone you know?'

He hesitated. 'I've seen her before, yeah. With Shannon and Josh Rasmussen.'

'Must be Paige,' I said. 'She has blonde hair, and that would explain why she seemed so worried on Sunday, when I came to ask Shannon about Professor Wentworth. Josh took her away before I could talk to her.'

Derek nodded. 'You still want to go to Barnham?'

'Of course I still want to go to Barnham. The only difference is that now I want to talk to Paige instead of Shannon. Thank you very much for keeping me from sounding like an idiot when I accused Shannon of having an affair with her teacher.'

'My pleasure.' Derek grinned. 'Hang on.' He turned the wheel and made an illegal U-turn on Main Street. I was thrown against him and breathed in the scent of soap and shampoo for a second before I straightened up.

'Sorry.'

Derek gave me a sidelong look, as if he knew that I wasn't really sorry at all. 'This is gonna take time away from renovating, you know. It'll be longer before you can get back to New York and that new job and new boyfriend you have to find.'

'If Professor Wentworth pushed my aunt down the stairs and killed her, I'd like to know,' I retorted. 'I think that's worth a delay, don't you?'

'You're the boss.' He glanced in the rearview mirror.

'Oh, damn.'

'What?' I twisted around.

'Blue lights.'

'Maybe they're after someone else. The siren isn't on . . .'

No sooner were the words out of my mouth, than the shrill sound cut through the crisp morning air. Derek made a face. 'Must have been that U-turn I made back there.'

'Sorry.'

He smiled. 'Not your fault. With any luck, it'll be Officer Estrada—Ramona Estrada—and I can talk my way out of the ticket.'

'Do what you need to do,' I said, leaning back on the seat with my arms folded.

Derek chuckled.

However, the lanky form that extricated itself from the black-and-white car belonged to the chief of police himself, in full uniform. He adjusted his belt importantly, put his mirrored sunglasses on, and swaggered over to Derek's window. 'Morning, folks.'

I smiled at the display. 'Morning, Wayne,' Derek said.

'You're aware you made an illegal U-turn back there, right?'

'Sorry. Avery remembered something.'

'Uh-huh.' Wayne didn't sound impressed with the excuse.

'We were just on our way back to the house from Kate's,' I said brightly, 'when we remembered something we'd forgotten.'

'Funny coincidence. I was just on my way to Kate's to talk to you.'

Uh-oh. 'What about?'

'Couple of things. First, Brandon Thomas worked on fingerprints all night, and the only ones he found in your house were the two of yours, Kate's, Graham Rodgers's, Melissa James's, and your boyfriend's. And a few of Miss Morton's, from before. Oh, and mine. And of course his own.'

Of course. 'But none of the Stenhams?'

Wayne shook his head. 'Pretty much everyone had prints on or near the desk where the keys were, so we can't rule anyone out.'

That figured.

'Add to that the fact that every Tom, Dick, and Harry knows to wear gloves these days, and you can't rule out anyone in all of Waterfield. Hell, all of Maine. Still, one good thing came of this.'

'What's that?' I asked.

He smiled. 'Since we had to identify and eliminate fingerprints, I put your boyfriend's prints through the database along with everyone else's, and I got a hit.'

'You're kidding!' I exclaimed, at the same time as Derek said, 'Let me guess. He's wanted in six states for fraud and impersonation.'

Wayne chuckled. 'Sorry to disappoint you. He has no criminal record at all. The only reason he's in the system is because he used to consult for the state of Tennessee, and the government fingerprints everyone.'

'Tennessee?' I repeated blankly. Philippe had never mentioned living anywhere but New York and Paris. Wayne nodded. 'I found a copy of his identification card. Have a look. This is him, isn't it?' He handed me a sheet of paper. Derek and I both hunched over it. After a second, Derek began to laugh.

'Phil Albertson,' he crowed.

'God!' I moaned, hiding my face in my hands. The paper fluttered down to the floor of the truck, and Philippe's face—Phil Albertson's face, I guess I should say—looked up at me, ten years younger and forty pounds heavier, sporting a full beard. Derek's pat on my back missed being comforting by a mile, as he was shaking with laughter.

'Once I knew who he was,' Wayne added blithely, 'it was easy tracking him. I have his birth certificate, his social security number, his work history, his education . . . He grew up in a small town in Tennessee and started working with his father, a local carpenter, right out of high school.'

'Lord!'

'The consulting he did was on some sort of forestry project, ten or twelve years ago. Best I can figure, he left Tennessee after his father passed on. That's the last record I can find of him down there. Of Phil Albertson, I mean. Aubert Designs was incorporated in New York two years later. By the time you started working for him, he'd already been in business for a while and had started to build a following.'

'I had no idea,' I said, talking through my fingers. 'I never suspected. I feel like an idiot!'

'Don't. By all accounts, he's very good at his act. He has to be, to fool so many people into thinking he's a French expatriate, when in fact he's never even visited France.'

Derek could barely suppress his mirth.

'He went out of town for two weeks earlier this year,' I said. 'Where did he go, if not France?'

Wayne consulted his paperwork. 'From what I can tell, he went to LaGuardia Airport and took a plane to Nashville and a rental car from there to Paris.'

'Paris?'

'Paris, Tennessee. Population just over thirty thousand. Exporter of tobacco, soybeans, wheat, and corn. Located one hundred miles from Nashville in Henry County.'

At this, Derek laughed so hard I was afraid he was going to choke. Personally, I was torn between crying and swearing. 'Damn you,' I said weakly, punching him in the arm, 'this isn't funny.'

'Sure it is.'

'You wouldn't think it was funny if it happened to you.'

'Maybe not, but . . .' He made an effort to pull himself together. '. . . just think of—what's her name?—Tara. And Melissa. Falling flat for that continental charm, and then it turns out he's a Tennessee hick who's never even been outside the country. He was born in Paris, all right: Paris, Tennessee! Oh God, Wayne; can I be there when you tell her? Please?'

In spite of my wounded pride, I found myself giggling, too. Thinking of stupid, young Tara and her adoration of Philippe—Phil—did make me feel better, and I could certainly sympathize with Derek's desire to rub Melissa's elegant nose in her faux pas. I wouldn't mind being there to see that myself.

'If I could find her, I might let you do that,' Wayne said, 'but we haven't been able to locate either of them yet. There's an unofficial APB out on both the Range Rover and the Mercedes, but so far, no sightings.'

'Huh.' Derek stopped laughing. 'Wonder where they could be?'

'Holed up in a cheap motel room somewhere,' I said sourly.

Wayne glanced at me and changed the subject.

'Where are you two going in such a hurry? You remembered something, you said?'

Derek and I made a point of not looking at one another.