Tricia’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Honestly?”
Marshall grinned. “Yeah, why not?” He clinked his glass against Tricia’s and took a sip.
Feeling just a little overwhelmed, Tricia gulped her champagne. “Do you even have any journalistic experience?”
“Not since high school, but isn’t it mostly a matter of getting ad revenue and inserting local color stories here and there?”
“I suppose so,” Tricia said, and they drank some more, the bubbles tickling her nose. “I think I need to sit down,” she said, grabbing Marshall’s arm. He snatched up the bottle and let her lead him to the sectional in the living room, where the lights were already turned down low. Marshall set his glass and the bottle down on the coffee table and then removed his suit coat, tossing it on a chair. Miss Marple immediately jumped up and began to sniff it.
“Miss Marple—down!” Tricia commanded, but the cat took no notice of her. “Down!” she warned again.
“Oh, leave her alone,” Marshall said as he sat down beside Tricia. “I’ve got a lint roller that’ll take care of any cat hair she leaves.”
“Yes, but you’re setting a bad precedent.”
“Let the cat celebrate along with us—just for tonight.”
Tricia frowned. “Oh, all right.
After moving the bottle within reach, the two of them sat down next to each other, with Tricia resting her head on Marshall’s shoulder. It was she who spoke first.
“Now tell me all about how you came to buy that horrible little rag.”
“It won’t be horrible once I get my hands on it.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” she said.
“Yeah. The business has a lot of problems, but I’m up for the challenge.”
“I don’t doubt it. When did all this come about?” Tricia asked. It certainly wasn’t news to Nikki.
“This morning. We wrote up a basic framework. Now it’s up to the lawyers to hammer out the final deal. I figured you’d be having dinner with Angelica, so I waited until you usually come home to tell you. Besides, do you know how hard it is in this burg to track down a chilled bottle of Dom Pérignon?”
Tricia laughed. “I’ll bet. But you could have called me. As it happens, Angelica was invited out this evening, so I’ve been on my own.”
“Damn. You should have let me know. I’ll bet you ate dry toast for dinner.”
“I had lunch leftovers, so I’m good. But I’m more interested in hearing about your new venture. How soon will you take possession of the paper?”
“That’s up to my lawyer to figure out, but I’m hoping it’ll be before the holidays, although Russ seems in a hurry to seal the deal, so maybe it’ll happen even sooner than that. My first job will be to get the business back in the black.”
“And what’s your plan?”
“First of all, I’m going to talk to all the advertisers, especially those who’ve backed away from supporting the News.”
“And that includes Angelica?”
He nodded.
“And then?”
“Consult with a graphic designer. At the very least, I want to get a new masthead. I don’t suppose the paper has had a refresh in decades.”
“Russ is so cheap, he makes Ginger do the paper’s graphics, and she’s admitted to me that she doesn’t feel comfortable in that role. Will you hire more staff?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to do a feasibility study.”
“Have you spoken to Patti and Ginger about it?”
He shook his head. “I met them when I went to Russ’s office, but there was no opportunity to talk to them. If he hasn’t already told them, they probably suspect.”
Interesting. Nikki had spoken to Patti that afternoon. Maybe Patti was afraid to jump the gun and say anything until she knew for sure if her job was secure.
“Did Russ give you a reason for selling the paper?”
“Apparently he plans to leave Stoneham—and, according to him, the sooner, the better. It seems he wants to get away from the memories of his ex-wife.”
“I spoke to her this afternoon.”
“On the phone?”
“In person. She picked up their son and is flying back to California with him tonight. Did you know Russ was about to put that little boy in foster care?”
Marshall exhaled a long breath. “No, he didn’t say a thing about the kid.”
That was so typical of Russ.
“While in town, Nikki also took care of other business.”
“Such as?”
“She fired the manager of the Patisserie and hired someone else to take over. From the sound of it, she doesn’t plan to return.”
Marshall shrugged. “It looks like Russ is getting everything he wants.”
“Did he mention what he plans to do about the Chamber presidency?”
“He’s going to resign.”
“That rat. He hasn’t even served a year in the position, and he seems to have taken great delight in destroying the organization.”
“I guess he’s going to call a meeting sometime soon and turn in his resignation. This is your chance to run for the job. And this time you’ll win.”
Tricia frowned. “I don’t know if I’m up to the amount of work it’ll take to rebuild it.”
“It’s something to think about. You know it would make Angelica happy.”
“Yes, it would. It’s broken her heart to see what he’s done—how he’s hurt the village and all the Chamber members. Did Russ mention his personal plans for the future?”
“He just said he wanted to start a new life.”
“Well, I certainly won’t miss him, and neither will a lot of other people.”
“Let’s not talk about Russ anymore,” Marshall said. “I want to celebrate—and maybe you will, too,” he suggested.
“You mean because we’d be getting a decent person who cares about the truth editing our local paper?”
“No, because it means I won’t be leaving you to gallivant across the globe.”
Tricia laughed. “Oh, that. I guess I’m very glad to hear that, too.”
“You guess?”
“Okay, I am absolutely thrilled to hear you say that.”
Marshall smiled and gave her a light kiss. “I can think of another way to celebrate.”
“Really?”
“You’ve got that great big soaker tub in the upstairs bathroom. Wouldn’t it feel good to light a few candles and let hot water and lots of bubbles ease away the tensions of the day?”
Oh, yes—and Tricia still harbored a lot of tension. She hadn’t even begun to tell him about the events of her day.
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” she said, getting up from the couch. “You take the bottle and head upstairs while I turn off all the lights.”
He kissed her again and grabbed the bottle. Tricia followed and paused at the light switch on the wall.
She didn’t want Angelica’s call to spoil what could very well be the best part of her day.
* * *
* * *
There was no call that evening. Had Angelica anticipated that Marshall might stay at Tricia’s apartment for the second night in a row when she’d suggested a signal, or had it just been wishful thinking on her part? Tricia didn’t know or care.
As she and Marshall were both early risers, Tricia made a light breakfast for them both, then kissed Marshall good-bye. They both had busy days ahead of them.
Tricia had showered and dressed for the day and was catching up with emails when the phone finally rang.
“Hello, dear sister,” Angelica practically sang.
“Hello to you. Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over to take Sarge out?”
“Thanks, but no. Antonio took him out last night, and
I’ve already taken him out this morning. June will help out during the day.”
“She’s a good egg,” Tricia agreed. “Will you be spilling all about your evening?”
“Not until you confess that you got lucky again last night.”
“I’ll never tell,” Tricia said, but then giggled.
“I thought as much when every light in your apartment was off last night when I arrived home.”
“How did your evening go?”
Angelica sighed. “Pretty much as expected. Antonio is over the moon that they’re pregnant for a second time, and Ginny—who has to actually carry the new baby—is not.”
“Oh, dear. No wonder she overreacted when I suggested she and Antonio take in Little Ru—er, Rusty.”
“Who’s Rusty?”
“That’s what little Russell wanted to know.”
“What?” Angelica asked, confused.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. First, tell me more about Ginny’s reaction.”
“Oh. Well, if you ask me, if she had her druthers, she wouldn’t carry this baby to term.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Tricia asked.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a tubal ligation in her future,” Angelica said succinctly. “Of course, she knows she’s going to love this baby once it arrives, but she’s feeling totally overwhelmed right now. She would have preferred this to happen in a year or two—not now.”
“When did they find out?”
“Ginny bought a pregnancy test at the drugstore on Monday morning. She made an appointment with her ob-gyn in two weeks; it’s the first she could get.”
Had Ginny suspected she might be pregnant the previous week when she brought up the subject during their meal at Booked for Lunch? Had she been in denial on Sunday, during their family dinner, when she had a glass or two of wine? Now that she knew for sure, Tricia was positive wine and spirits were out of the picture for Ginny for the foreseeable future.
“I’m happy for Antonio and sad for Ginny at the same time. This wasn’t what she wanted.”
“I know, but she’ll make the best of the situation,” Angelica said.
Yes, Tricia had no doubt she would.
“And I’m hoping we like this Curtis fellow we’re interviewing today. It would take a load of bricks off Antonio’s shoulders. Ginny is going to need more support with two little ones underfoot.”
“Did you mention they could hire a nanny?”
“It may have come up in conversation,” Angelica admitted. “In fact, I’m going to encourage them to start interviewing. And I’ll talk to Ginny about working from home a couple of days a week once the new baby arrives.”
“Those sound like good ideas. Did the three of you talk about renovations to Ginny’s little house?”
“Oh, yes, and that at least pleased Ginny. They’ve been living in cramped quarters ever since Sofia arrived.” Angelica launched into all the different scenarios in which the tiny house could be enlarged on that wonderful, big lot, taking great delight that her advice seemed welcome and valued.
Once Angelica ran out of steam, Tricia dropped her own bombshells.
“Nikki came back to Stoneham to claim little Russell?” Angelica asked, aghast.
“She’s renamed him Rusty,” Tricia pointed out. “Perhaps she wants to banish Russ from their collective memories. And who could blame her? Russ was never in line for the title of Father of the Year.”
“And Marshall is buying the Stoneham Weekly News?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to take in at one time.”
“Tell me about it,” Tricia agreed.
“I will definitely start advertising with the paper again once Marshall is in charge,” Angelica declared. “For my own brand and for Nigela Ricita Associates.”
“Do you want me to tell him so?”
“No. I want to hear his pitch first. I’ll let him work for it. That way he’ll gain more pleasure from it.”
Yes, Tricia had to agree, he probably would.
“Has anybody ever told you that you have great wisdom, oh, sister of mine?”
“Not so far,” Angelica said.
“Good. Then I won’t have to ruin that record.”
“You are the worst,” Angelica accused.
“No, I’m the best.”
Tricia heard her sister let out a breath. “Okay, maybe. But just for today. I might claim that title tomorrow.”
“And I will gladly relinquish it. For a day,” Tricia asserted.
“Then you’ll just have to earn it back on Thursday,” Angelica said.
“Can do.” Tricia looked at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to get my butt in gear if this interview with Hank Curtis is going to happen this morning.”
“Very well. I’ve got a lot to accomplish by then, too. I haven’t worked out how I’m going to get to the Brookview.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Everett. He’s more than willing to do anything for either of us.”
“He’s such a dear man,” Angelica agreed.
“I’ll set it up and let you know.”
“Thank you. Then I guess I’ll see you at the Brookview around eleven.”
“Count on it,” Tricia said, and the sisters ended the call.
Now Tricia just had to make everything work.
TWENTY-ONE
Tricia arrived at the encampment at precisely eight thirty, but when she got out of her car and looked around, she didn’t see Hank Curtis, whom she’d expected to meet her. Some of the other men were sitting in front of the fire pit, drinking coffee and eating—some from the cans of food she’d brought two days before.
“Where’s Hank?” she asked.
“Gone.”
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” she asked, shocked. “Forever?”
“Nah, for a walk,” one of the grubbier men said.
“But he was supposed to meet me here to go on a job interview this morning.”
“He don’t want no job.”
“That wasn’t what he told me yesterday.”
The old guy shrugged. “That’s what he told us last night.”
Tricia frowned. If Curtis hadn’t worked in several years, maybe he was just overwhelmed.
“When did he leave?”
“Ten, twenty minutes ago.”
“Which way did he go?” she asked.
He pointed farther down the road.
“Thank you,” Tricia said, and stalked off in the direction of her car. She got in and took out her phone, calling the number of the flip phone she’d bought the day before. It rang and rang but wasn’t answered.
She set the phone aside, started the engine, and took off down the road, driving slowly. The dirt track was some kind of service road, probably for the railroad, and there were plenty of places to hide among the brush and trees if Curtis decided to do so. That said, she wouldn’t have thought he was the kind of man to run away from a challenge. Had she made a mistake in suggesting that Angelica interview him for a job that carried a lot of responsibility?
Tricia kept watch as she slowly rolled down the lane, and it took a good five minutes before she saw a figure shambling along up ahead. What was she going to say to the man? She wasn’t sure, but she did know one thing: she wasn’t going to beg him to go on the interview.
As she approached Curtis, Tricia hit the button on the driver’s-side armrest and rolled down the passenger-side window. “Need a lift?”
Curtis turned, and Tricia braked.
“Where are you going?”
“I needed some fresh air,” he said.
“It’s all around you.”
“Okay, then maybe I needed to think.”
“About what?”
He let out a breath. “That I’m
not ready for this.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got problems.”
“So does everybody else in the world,” she said.
“Just thinking about getting a job makes me want to have a drink,” Curtis admitted.
“Did you?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Now hop in.”
“I told you, I’m not ready for a job,” he asserted.
“How do you even know they’re going to offer it to you?”
Curtis blinked, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
“Come on, if we don’t buy you some new duds and get you to the barber, you won’t get the job.”
To say Curtis looked perturbed was putting it mildly. But after a few long seconds he jerked open the passenger-side door and got in the car. Tricia did a three-point turn and headed back toward the encampment.
“Buckle up,” she ordered, rolling up the window, and he meekly complied.
“Look, I appreciate you setting this up, but you can drop me off at the camp,” Curtis said.
“No can do,” Tricia answered, keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I went out on a limb for you, and you’re going to see this through.”
“You can’t make me,” Curtis said, sounding like a petulant child.
Tricia laughed. “No, I can’t. But I figure a guy who went through multiple deployments to Afghanistan can muster the courage to speak with a young man and an older woman and make out okay.”
“This Nigela Ricita woman is a powerful person,” Curtis said.
“She can’t bite you from a computer screen.”
“What if I have a panic attack?”
“I’ve got a paper sack you can breathe into.”
“What if I say something stupid?”
“And what if you don’t?”
“What if I get the job? Where would I live? How would I get to work?”
“Ms. Ricita and her associate, Mr. Barbero, are aware of your circumstances. I’m sure something could be worked out.”
Tricia braked as they drove past the camp, but when Curtis didn’t leap from the car, she sped up and headed for the main road.
“Where are we going first?”
Handbook for Homicide Page 20
