By Familiar Means (31 page)

She smiled. She also changed the subject. “I never can remember, dear, do you like rice pudding? I hope so, because I got enough for two.” Alistair looked up at her as pitifully as if he'd been an orphan kitten in the pouring rain. “Well, yes, of course, Alistair, I meant enough for three.”

I sighed and wondered out loud if Portsmouth even had a kitty-cat gym, or if we were going to have to start commuting to Boston for that.

33

I really did not mean to let rice pudding and Grandma's sweet little old lady act distract me. But the truth was, after an eventful day and a heavy dinner, it wasn't long before I was nodding off where I sat. I told myself that Grandma and I could continue our conversation in the morning. By then, I'd have my brain back in working order and we could make plans. We could call Bob and Ginger, maybe, and she could spend a few nights in Boston spoiling her great-grandson. Maybe this meeting with Christine would allow me to put together the final puzzle pieces about what had really happened to Jimmy Upton. Maybe by then we would have things sorted out here. Maybe I'd be able to sit down with her and Julia and finally sort out what was happening between them.

I told myself nothing was going to happen overnight. I kept telling myself this while I tried to stay awake long enough to brush my teeth and climb into my pajamas and into my bed. Despite all my worries for Sean, Jake and Miranda, and Grandma—and, I admit it, for me, too—I proceeded to sleep like the dead.

At least I did until something very cold and wet pressed up against my face.

“Gah!” My eyes snapped open and I shoved myself backward.

“Merow!” Alistair jumped in the opposite direction, landed on my feet, stumbled sideways and caught himself just before he toppled off the edge of the bed.

“Wh . . . a-a-at?” I said, remembering to drop my voice just in time. I didn't want Grandma B.B. running in here. She could sleep through anything, except one of her grandkids sounding distressed. It was still dark, and my beside clock blinked over from 2:30 to 2:31.

“Mow-erp.” Alistair jumped off the bed and started pacing in front of the door. “Meow!”

I stared at him, trying to figure out if this was a real emergency or just that I'd forgotten to fill up his dry food bowl. Then I felt that slow, steady prickling running up my arms. My eyes widened.

“Merow,” agreed Alistair, and he vanished.

I kicked back the covers, grabbed my robe and tiptoed into the hall. Alistair was at the top of the stairs, his tail lashing back and forth. I followed him downstairs and into the kitchen.

Golden light flickered through the windows. I leaned over the sink and pushed back the curtains.

Somebody was using the fire pit at the center of the garden's spiraling path. I could see the flames flickering up along with a swirl of smoke and sparks. Somebody stood with her back to the window and her arms stretched up to the sky.

Grandma B.B.

“What's she doing?” I whispered.

Alistair shrugged, a long ripple of gray fur.

“Do you think we should go out there?”

Alistair hunkered down on the counter, with all four feet tucked under him in what I think of as the “cat-loaf” position.

“You're right,” I said. “Let her have some space. But maybe . . .”

I didn't finish that thought. Alistair was on his feet, ears and whiskers quivering. “Merow!” he announced, and vanished.

“What the heck?”

“Merow!” said Alistair again, and this time the sound came from the direction of my foyer. So did the distinct
ching-ching
of a bike bell.

By the time I got to him, Alistair was pawing impatiently at the door. I undid the dead bolt and pulled it open. Jake Luce stood on the porch, bike helmet in one hand and his finger poised to ring the bell.

“Oh, ah, hey, Anna,” he said, lowering his hand. “I guess you were awake after all.”

“One of those nights,” I said. “Come on in. What's happened?”

“Nothing, really. Nothing new anyway.”

“Well, come on in. Can I get you some tea?” I led him into the living room and gestured that he should sit in the wing-backed chair. I sat on the curving window seat. Alistair, of course, came with us. Instead of jumping up onto my lap, he circled a few times around Jake's ankles.

The offer of tea was reflexive and I tried to keep smiling. I didn't really want Jake following me into the kitchen, where he could see Grandma at her meditations, or whatever it was she was doing, through the window. With her being so disappointed about not being able to help before, and now Jake showing up out of the blue, I suspected that there might have been more than a personal calming and cleansing ritual going on out there.

“I'm good, thanks.” Jake set his helmet down on the floor beside him. He also scritched Alistair behind the ears. “I just, I needed to get some air after the cell, and I saw the light on, and I wanted to thank you for everything you're trying to do.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “I was worried after this afternoon, well, maybe I overstepped.”

Jake waved this away. “No. It's just been hard on everybody.”

“How's Chuck holding up?”

“Not good,” he admitted. “He's blaming himself for Blanchard keeping the screws on. I wish . . .” He sighed. “Well, I just wish there was some way to get this cleared up, for the kid's sake if nothing else.”

“You should try not to worry, Jake,” I said softly. “I'm sure everything's going to work out.”

“I wish I was.” Jake was hunched over, his long hands dangling between his knobby knees. “I'm trying to put on the brave face for Miranda, but, man, she's not buying it.” He took off his glasses and stared at the round lenses. “We've been together almost fifty years now. I have never once been able to put anything over on her. And this time, we both know the trouble's real.”

I bit my lip. It was impossible not to hear how Jake was cracking apart inside from doubt and worry. I wanted to hug him, hard. I wanted to promise him I'd use every means, magical and non-, to find out what was really happening, so he and Miranda could get back to normal and not have to worry about anything except making sure their coffee beans were certified organic and fairly traded. Unfortunately I couldn't do any of that, at least not right away. Alistair mewed and jumped up onto the window seat. He shoved his way onto my lap and under my hands so I had no choice but to pet him.

“Listen, Jake,” I said slowly. “I want to help; you know I do.”

“There's a ‘but' coming, isn't there?” said Jake.

I nodded. “But I've got to ask a really awful question. I mean another one, and I need you to be completely straight with me.”

Jake rubbed his hands back and forth on his knees. “Okay. Go for it.”

“Did . . . is it possible Chuck was using you guys as cover of some kind for his pot operation?”

“
What?
No. Look, Anna, it's been a while, but I've done some living on the road. You learn fast to tell the difference between the dumb kids and the hard cases. Chuck is a kid and he's in over his head. And he never once tried to lean on us, if that's what you're really asking.”

“Then is it possible Jimmy tried to lean on him? Maybe Jimmy found out about the attic and demanded a cut, or something like that?”

Jake pulled back. He rubbed his chin and his neck. He took off his bandana and ran his hand across his scalp and put the bandana back on.

“No,” he said. “Or at least, if he did, I haven't seen any sign of it, and we've been rapping a whole lot, me and Chuck.”

I nodded. I believed in Jake as a judge of character. But I also believed a kid who had been blackmailed by a man who turned up dead would find all kinds of reasons to keep quiet.

“Okay. One more. Did you and Miranda buy the old drugstore to keep the property from being redeveloped? I know you've clashed with some of the business community over riverfront development.”

“Riverfront enclosure, you mean,” he growled. “Riverfront pollution. Do you know how much oil and diesel and garbage from the boats in that marina ends up in the Piscataqua? Do you know how Gretchen Hilde got together with the rest of her fat-cat . . .”

“Merow!” Alistair glared at him, but Jake was too worked up to notice.

“. . . buddies and blocked the city passing a living-wage ordinance?” Jake went on. “Not to mention the law on zero tolerance for river dumping and . . .” He clenched both hands. In my mind's eye I saw Miranda again, smiling up at Rich Hilde and saying there was no bad blood between them. I clamped my mouth shut hard while Jake took a deep breath. I was able to count to five before he let it out, slowly. “I'm sorry, Anna. I'm not being cool.”

“You just got out of jail,” I reminded him. “You get to be stressed.”

Jake shrugged. “This isn't about jail. The cops were actually pretty polite, except maybe for Blanchard.” He shook his head. “Seriously, compared to what we got put through after some of the student protests and stuff, it was a walk in the park. I'd just be shrugging it all off if I wasn't so worried
about what's coming next.” He flexed his hands, as if he was trying to grapple with something only he could see. “But the answer to your question is, yeah, part of the reason we decided on that location was to stop additional . . .” He froze. “You're not saying
that
'
s
what this is about? You think the Hildes are trying to frame us?”

Actually, I was thinking that this was a lot to have going on between the hotel and the people Rich was trying to get to be their new coffee supplier. I believed Miranda when she said she was trying to make peace with the Hildes. But what was Rich trying to do?

I suddenly wondered if Rich was trying to bribe Miranda or distract her. Maybe he thought if he had her concentrating on trying to smooth things over, she wouldn't see what was really happening. Just like he'd done with Val when his family was trying to deny her opening permits for the B and B.

“I don't know anything for sure,” I said out loud. “But if the Hildes were trying to frame you, it might explain why Jimmy's body had been left in the tunnel with so much money on it.”

“Oh, son of a . . .” groaned Jake. “I mean, I knew they played hardball, but I never imagined anything like this.”

“We've got no proof,” I reminded him. “And there're other possibilities.”

“Like what?”

“Like Jimmy might have found out that Christine Hilde and Kelly Pierce were planning on selling out to Dreame Royale. I mean, his sister is working for them.”

“Yeah, but Chuck said those two were totally on the outs.”

“Still. Maybe Jimmy went to talk to Shelly and saw her with Kelly and Christine or something, and then Christine had to bribe Jimmy to keep him quiet.”

“Because there's no way Mama Hilde would sit still for any of her kids setting up a rival operation.” Jake sighed. “Man, what some people choose to do with their lives.”

I nodded.

“Oh! Jake! Is everything all right?”

Grandma B.B. stood in the doorway. Her hair was tousled from the wind and the smell of wood smoke swirled around her. She looked a little flushed. She'd been working magic all right. I could feel the prickle in my fingertips, and I saw the way Alistair's whiskers quivered.

“Hey, Annie-Bell.” Jake climbed to his feet. “Yeah, everything's fine. At least I hope it will be.” Grandma really wanted him to clarify that, but he'd already picked up his bike helmet. “I better be getting back.”