“First, to one of the big-box stores on Route 101. We’ll get you a clean change of clothes and then I’ll take you to Booked for Beauty.”
“A beauty parlor?” he protested.
“It’s a day spa. My sister owns it. It’s unisex. Everybody in the village goes there.”
“You own a store, too, right?”
“Yes. Haven’t Got a Clue. I sell vintage and current mysteries.”
“And your sister’s a hairdresser?”
Tricia laughed. “No. She’s an entrepreneur. She has a bookstore, a café, the day spa, and an interest in a bed-and-breakfast.” Among other things. “She’s partnered with Nigela Ricita Associates on the B and B, and should you get the job, you would probably be speaking with her when it comes to sourcing for it and the café.”
“Plus that swanky inn?”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure, after working in the military, you’re more than up for the job.”
“How do you know I wasn’t a screwup?”
“Were you honorably discharged?”
“Yeah.”
“With full rank and retirement?”
“The retirement money is a tangled mess, thanks to the divorce; otherwise I wouldn’t be sleeping in a tent.”
Tricia nodded. She’d heard similar stories. “I think you’ll find Nigela Ricita Associates to be competitive when it comes to pay.” Tricia glanced to her right to see Curtis merely shrug.
Once on the highway, Curtis peppered her with questions about the Brookview Inn, Booked for Lunch, and the Sheer Comfort Inn. She was happy to answer them all, glad he was finally showing more interest in the whole experience.
They parked in front of the store with the big bull’s-eye, and half an hour later Curtis was decked out in business casual attire, including new socks and shoes.
“I’m going to pay you back for this,” Curtis muttered, which Tricia took as a hopeful sign that he actually might sell himself on the interview. Once they were back in the car, Curtis had a more serious question for Tricia. “Why are you doing this for me?”
Pixie had asked the same question. “When I heard your credentials, I thought you might be a perfect fit with NR Associates.”
“Yeah?”
“And Mr. Barbero and his wife are dear friends of mine. They have a young daughter, and he works a lot of hours. Maybe with you taking on a big part of his job, he’ll have more time for his family.”
“Maybe. But there’ll be a learning curve.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You sound awfully confident,” Curtis groused.
“To be truthful, I don’t have a stake in this at all. But I figured if I could help you out—or anybody else, for that matter—I would.”
“Do-gooder,” Curtis muttered.
“I like the sound of that,” Tricia said as a smile tugged at her lips.
They were quiet for a couple of minutes, then Curtis spoke again. “I met her.”
“Who?”
“Susan Morris.”
Tricia’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Where?”
“In Stoneham. At that free-clothes place.”
“The Clothes Closet.”
“Yeah. She was working there. She helped me pick out some stuff”—he gave a wry laugh—“so I could go on a job interview.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding dispirited. “Sometimes clothes don’t make the man.”
“What was the job?”
“Dishwasher at some diner in Milford.”
“And?”
“I didn’t get it.” He shook his head ruefully. “Me, a dishwasher. What would the enlisted men under my command have said about that?”
Tricia could imagine, and it wasn’t a pretty picture.
Curtis shrugged. “It’s probably just as well they didn’t hire me. I was going to have to hitch a ride to get to work every day. It would’ve been hard to get back to the camp at night. But losing that job kind of shattered whatever confidence I had left.”
“From what I saw, you take care of those guys at camp. You don’t seem all that shattered to me.”
“I put on a good front,” he said sourly.
“And what did you think about Susan?” Tricia asked.
“She was okay.”
“Did you know she was homeless?”
“There are degrees of homelessness. She had a car—in my book, that’s pretty good shelter—and she had options most of us don’t.”
“Did she talk about her daughter?”
“Yeah. She told me she had an open invitation to stay with her and her family, but she still had places to go, places she wanted to see.”
Maybe Susan would have traveled south once winter hit. Instead, she ended up going south, all right. Probably cremated in a plastic container.
And there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to her death.
* * *
* * *
In no time they arrived in the village. And because they were between seasons, Tricia was able to park on a street not too far from the day spa.
Randy Ellison met them at the door. “Welcome, Tricia, and this must be your friend, Mr. Curtis. Would either of you like some coffee? We’ve got some more of those marvelous chocolates from the Sweet As Can Be candy shop, too. Just the thing for a sweet tooth.”
“Uh, no, thanks,” Curtis said.
“I need to call Pixie and check up on my store, but I’ll take a rain check,” Tricia said.
“Fine. Step this way, Mr. Curtis. Marlene will be taking care of you this morning.”
“Thanks.”
Tricia stepped outside and took out her cell phone, calling her store.
“Haven’t Got a Clue; this is Pixie. How may I help you?”
“Hey, Pixie. Is everything all right?”
“Peachy keen,” Pixie told her. “And Mr. Everett has already picked up Angelica and taken her to the Brookview.”
“Oh, good. I’m not sure when I’ll get back to the store. I’ll probably be taking Mr. Curtis back to the encampment, and I might stop for lunch along the way.”
“Not to worry. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Miss Marple?”
If her cat replied, Tricia didn’t hear it. “Great, I’ll talk to you later,” she promised, and ended the call. She put her phone away and walked back into the spa, taking a seat in the waiting area, where she pulled out her current book and settled in to read. Twenty minutes later a virtual stranger appeared before her. Not only had Marlene trimmed Curtis’s hair, but she’d trimmed his beard, making him look more like a college professor than a homeless vet.
Tricia stood. “Wow, you look terrific—and years younger.”
“That’s a plus for anybody over fifty looking for work,” Curtis admitted.
“Nigela Ricita Associates doesn’t age discriminate.”
“So I’ve heard.” Curtis glanced at the big clock on the wall. They had just ten minutes to get to the Brookview.
“Let me settle the bill and I’ll be right with you,” Tricia said. She stepped up to the reception desk with her credit card in hand, and two minutes later they headed back to her car.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Curtis’s hands were clenched into fists. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Tricia patted his shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”
Curtis didn’t look convinced. They got into Tricia’s car and off they went.
* * *
* * *
The Brookview Inn wasn’t all decked out for fall, but a few hints of color, in the form of pumpkins, were visible on the big open porch as Tricia drove up the driveway. She parked in the lot behind the historic edifice, and Curtis followed her in through the building’s back entrance.
They arrived at the lobby,
where the door to Antonio’s office was open. Tricia knocked on the jamb. “We’re here.”
Antonio got up from behind his desk. “Come in.”
Tricia rushed forward and gave him a hug. “I’m so happy to hear about the good news.”
Antonio blushed. “I am very pleased. Ginny . . .” He gave a shrug.
“She’ll come around. She’s a great mom and she’s going to love this baby just as much as she loves you and Sofia,” Tricia whispered. Antonio gripped her hand in a gesture of thanks. Then he became all business and offered his hand to Curtis. “It’s very good to meet you, Mr. Curtis.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“I’ll just close the door and let you two get down to business,” Tricia said. “We’ll talk later,” she told Curtis.
“Feel free to wait for Mr. Curtis in the conference room,” Antonio said, nodding his head in that direction.
“Thanks.” Tricia gave Curtis a thumbs-up. “Good luck.” She closed the door and wasted no time hightailing it down the hall to the conference room, where Angelica was seated at the head of the table, with her foot propped on another chair and her laptop already open and connected.
“So, you got here okay?” Tricia asked without preamble.
“Mr. Everett was such a dear to bring me here. And he made sure I was settled in before he would leave. I may attempt to make him a batch of thumbprint cookies this weekend and give them to him at our family dinner as a thank-you.”
“I’m sure he’d love it,” Tricia said as she removed her jacket and took a seat at Angelica’s right. “When will Antonio contact you?”
“Any minute now. Antonio’s decided that if he likes Mr. Curtis, he’ll invite him to the dining room for lunch. That would give us the opportunity to have lunch, too. I’ve been cooped up for so long, I’m going stir-crazy. And that way I’d get an opportunity to meet the guy as well.”
“He’s pretty nervous.” Tricia told her sister how the dishwashing job hadn’t panned out.
“Oh, the poor man. Let’s hope he makes a better impression today.”
“Great. Then I can fill you in on what we talked about this morning.”
“Fine.”
Tricia nodded toward the laptop. “Are you sure that voice-altering thing is going to work?”
“It’s worked before whenever I’ve had to talk to staff as Nigela.”
“Will I hear a difference?”
Angelica shook her head. “It’s all on their end.”
“What do you use for a picture?”
Angelica laughed. “A stock photo I bought off the Internet for five bucks. I had it photoshopped so if it shows up on an ad or something, it won’t look suspicious.”
“Good idea.”
The call came through, and Tricia and Angelica straightened in anticipation. But within a minute or so, Tricia found her mind wandering as Antonio and Angelica got into the meat of the interview. Hearing about ordering food in bulk and supervising a staff wasn’t nearly as interesting as she would have thought, but Curtis was doing a good job of selling himself and his skills, which pleased her. She pulled her book out of her purse to take a reading break. Still, her mind wandered back to what Curtis had told her concerning Susan Morris—the fact that the situation was so ordinary. Susan had had her volunteer job with the Clothes Closet, she had worked at the chocolate shop, and she had been well liked and kind to people. Why would anybody want to kill her?
Angelica tapped Tricia’s arm to get her attention and then put the computer’s microphone on mute. “I like this guy. He seems to know exactly what we need and how to accomplish it. What do you think about me offering him the job on a contingency basis? Perhaps as a consultant? We could give him a month to prove himself and then see where it goes.”
“It sounds fair. What about his accommodations? He’s got no car and nowhere to live.”
“He can stay in one of the inn’s bungalows. We can move him to a room or even to the Sheer Comfort Inn if we have to.”
“Yes, but won’t you be fully booked by the end of the month?”
“We’ll figure something out.” Angelica turned up the sound once again. When an opening appeared, she spoke up.
“I’m quite happy with what I’ve heard, Mr. Curtis. I wonder, would you consider working with us on a trial basis as a consultant? That way we could decide if you’re a good fit for our organization, and you can decide if you’d be happy working with us.”
“That sounds good,” Curtis said, his voice higher than Tricia had heard before.
“Shall we say five thousand and room and board for a thirty-day trial?”
“Uh . . . yes. That sounds fair.”
“Good. When can you start? Tomorrow?”
“I . . . I . . . yes, of course.”
“Good. Mr. Barbero, perhaps you’d like to take Mr. Curtis to lunch and go over the job requirements in more detail.”
“As you wish, Ms. Ricita.”
“Good. I’ve got another meeting in a few moments, so I’ll say good-bye for now, Mr. Curtis. And I hope we get to speak again soon.”
“Uh, thank you. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll talk again soon,” she promised, and cut the connection, letting out a breath. “Whew! I’m glad that’s over. I’m starved. Let’s go to the dining room and eat.”
TWENTY-TWO
Antonio and Curtis had already retreated to the dining room by the time Tricia and Angelica caught up with them. Tricia stopped by their table, and both men immediately stood. She waved them to sit.
“So? How’d it go?” she asked Curtis.
“Great. I’ve been offered the job on an interim basis.”
“That’s wonderful,” Tricia said, feigning surprise, happy to see that Curtis seemed to be a man transformed—much more confident than he’d been earlier that morning.
“I’d like you to meet my sister, Angelica.”
“Ms. Miles,” Curtis said, standing once again and holding out a hand.
“Very happy to meet you. Tricia’s told me a lot about you.” She handed Tricia one of her crutches, and they shook on it.
“You and Mr. Curtis will be able to get to know one another in the coming days,” Tricia informed her. “You will be working with him on the Sheer Comfort Inn account.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Angelica said, and batted her eyelashes at him.
Tricia cleared her throat. “We’ll be having lunch here, too,” she told Curtis and Antonio. “When you’re done—”
“If you wouldn’t mind taking me back to the encampment so I can get my things and say good-bye to my . . . my friends, I’d really appreciate it,” Curtis said.
“I’d be happy to. Have a good lunch,” Tricia said, and gave Angelica a nudge, handing back the crutch.
The sisters sat several tables away by the window overlooking the brook. A waiter approached with menus. “I’ll bring you some water and be back in a moment.”
Angelica kept leaning to look around Tricia and peer at Antonio and Curtis’s table. “He’s much better-looking in person than on a tiny computer screen.”
“Curtis?”
“Who else are we talking about?”
“Did you have to make eyes at him just now?”
“I did not make eyes. I was just admiring . . . his nice eyes.”
“Sure.”
By the time they ordered, they were on to other subjects, and enjoyed a delightful lunch accompanied by glasses of wine. Since Angelica needed a lift home, she decided to hitch a ride with Tricia. And so, Angelica rode shotgun and Curtis took the back seat.
“I can drop you off at your shop,” Tricia told her sister.
“I’ve got nothing on my agenda today,” Angelica said, looking over her left shoulder to the man in back. “Why don�
�t I just tag along for the ride?”
“Fine with me,” Tricia said.
“I should have mentioned it earlier, but I won’t be staying at the camp,” Curtis said.
“Oh?” Tricia asked, again feigning surprise.
“Mr. Barbero—Antonio—has offered me accommodations at the Brookview Inn, at least temporarily.”
“He’s a nice man,” Angelica quipped.
“It’s part of the deal. They offered me a monthlong trial period.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Angelica asked.
“With my background, it’s more than fair. It’ll sure feel good to sleep in a real bed tonight. But I do need to pick up my gear at the camp—such as it is—and I appreciate the ride back there to get it,” he told Tricia with sincerity.
While Tricia played chauffeur during the twenty-minute ride, Angelica peppered Curtis with questions about his past work experience, told him how she ran things at Booked for Lunch and the Sheer Comfort Inn, and indicated that she hoped to save money sharing a food manager with the Brookview Inn.
They were so involved in the discussion that they didn’t see what Tricia saw as she approached the location where the encampment had been. She slowed and took in what looked like piles of trash scattered across the landscape.
“What happened?” she cried as she and the others turned to take in the devastation.
“It looks like a tornado hit,” Angelica said.
“Everything’s gone,” Curtis said in a hushed voice.
“But where are the people?” Tricia asked.
She stopped the car, and the three of them got out. Curtis tramped across the grass to where the fire pit had been. The ground beneath was scorched, but it and the tents and large cardboard cartons that had acted as homes for the destitute were gone. Large tracks were dug into the soft earth. No natural phenomenon had caused that kind of damage.
A movement to her left caused Tricia to whirl. She recognized one of the homeless men she’d spoken to that morning.
“Bobby, what happened?” Curtis asked.
The older man’s eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like he’d been crying. “First a couple of cops from Stoneham came to talk to Joe. It got kind of heated, and Joe took a swing at one of them. They arrested him and hauled him away. Not ten minutes later some guys in a white pickup showed up towing a Bobcat excavator, saying this was private property and that we had to leave. Well, we told them we weren’t gonna, but they didn’t listen. They just unloaded the Bobcat and started smashing down our tents and tarps. They didn’t even give us a chance to salvage nothin’. Now all I got is the clothes on my back and nowhere to go,” he said, his voice breaking.
Handbook for Homicide Page 21
