Sentenced to Death bm-5

by Lorna Barrett

  She hit the speed dial for Angelica, who answered on the second ring. “What have you got planned for the evening?”

  “I’m working on the manuscript,” Angelica answered.

  “Can you spare a couple of hours?”

  “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s time to play stakeout again.”

  “Oh goody,” Angelica squealed. “I’ll bring the snacks.” She paused. “Just who are we going to be watching?”

  “David Black.”

  “Delicious. When can you get here?”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “I’m packing the Cheez Doodles right now.”

  Fifteen

  Angelica stared out at the darkened street and sighed. Tricia had counted at least ten bored sighs since they’d followed David Black from his house more than an hour before, right after Tricia had returned to the municipal parking lot, parked her car, and got in the passenger’s side of Angelica’s car. Then they’d returned to Oak Street, parked in Frannie’s driveway—cleared in advance, of course—and waited to see what David would do.

  Sure enough, just after dark he’d left the home he’d shared with Deborah. Tricia had expected to follow him to Portsmouth, where she presumed he’d meet up with Michele Fowler, but instead, he’d driven three blocks to a large home on Fifth Street. The sign out front said TINY TOTS DAY CARE. Across the front, the wording had been partially obliterated by hand-painted lettering that said CLOSED.

  “What kind of person names their child Brandy?” Tricia asked, still puzzled by David coming here.

  “An alcoholic?” Angelica suggested, and tipped the Doodles bag upside down. Not a crumb remained. “For all we know, she’s a fine girl, and a good wife she might be.”

  Tricia glared at her sister, who shrugged and sat back in her seat. “I don’t think she’s married.”

  Angelica checked the bottle of ice tea that sat in the beverage restraint device just under her car stereo. It, too, was empty. “I’m bored. We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and nothing has happened.”

  “Nothing that we can see, at least.” Tricia corrected.

  “Tell me this blankie story again,” Angelica asked.

  “It could be a reason for David being here. Elizabeth thinks little Davey left his beloved blankie at the day care center the day he broke his arm. He’s been howling for it ever since.”

  “It doesn’t take an hour and a half to negotiate the return of a hostage blankie,” Angelica muttered.

  No, it didn’t. And since David had had little to no contact with Davey, the theory seemed implausible. Tricia stared at the former day care center, not liking what she’d been speculating for the past ninety minutes.

  “Do you believe in flying saucers?” Angelica asked, breaking the quiet.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to Cheryl Griffin or the Dexter twins again,” Tricia said.

  “No, Frannie.”

  “I hope they haven’t suckered her into believing that garbage.”

  “Of course not. She’s not that gullible. She did tell me the Dexters were still worried, though.”

  “Are they still thinking about buying a tenement?” Tricia asked.

  Angelica stifled a chuckle. “Those ladies are pretty single-minded. I wouldn’t be surprised if they manage to get Stoneham the police force they’ve been campaigning for.”

  The sisters were known for carrying clipboards and getting the villagers to sign petitions every six months or so for just that reason. Every year they got closer to convincing the Board of Selectmen that it would be a good idea. Was this the year it would go through?

  Angelica cocked her head to one side and squinted in the darkness. “Isn’t that Russ’s pickup?”

  “Where?” Tricia asked, peering out the passenger window.

  “There. At Nikki Brimfield’s house.”

  The lack of light made it impossible to tell the color of the truck, but it did look like Russ’s.

  “I’m going to go have a look,” Angelica said, and before Tricia could stop her, she’d opened the driver’s door and escaped into the night.

  Okay, what did this mean? That Russ and Nikki were a twosome? And if so, how come nobody had mentioned it to Tricia? Not that she cared. And if Russ was seeing Nikki, why had he mentioned taking her to lunch or dinner just the evening before?

  And why did she suddenly feel hurt? She had no feelings for Russ. But maybe it wasn’t feelings for him; perhaps it was the feeling of being left out.

  His attitude was certainly different this morning. Had he and Nikki come to some kind of decision about their relationship between last night and this morning? That didn’t seem right—not if he was afraid of Nikki seeing him without his bridge. He’d paid extra to make sure he didn’t lose it. They must still be at a stage where appearances counted.

  The driver’s door opened and Angelica ducked back in. “Yup, it’s Russ’s truck all right. And all the lights are off inside the house. I think he must be warming Nikki’s bed.”

  Tricia said nothing.

  “I must say, I thought Nikki had better taste,” Angelica said. “But then, it must be a relief to you. At least with him seeing Nikki, he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  “That’s true,” Tricia said, and yet on some level it did bother her. She stared out the passenger’s window into the dark night and remembered how nervous Russ had been when she’d visited his house last evening. Had Nikki been there, too? Tricia hadn’t seen any evidence—like glasses or plates for more than one—on the cocktail table. Had Nikki been hiding in the kitchen or upstairs perhaps—warming Russ’s bed? Russ hadn’t been in a hurry to get rid of Tricia, either.

  It didn’t make sense.

  “While I was creeping around, I snuck up to Brandy’s window and peeked in.”

  “Ange! That makes you a peeping Tom.”

  “Peeping Thomasina, maybe,” she corrected.

  “So what did you see?”

  “Nothing. I think they went to bed, too. And that’s probably where we should go. It’s getting late.”

  But Tricia didn’t want to go home. “I wish there were some kind of after-hours place here in Stoneham. Maybe a club that played jazz and served drinks.”

  “And whom would they serve? The sidewalks roll up at dark. The problem is there’s a real lack of hotel space in the area.”

  “But the Brookside Inn—” Tricia began.

  “Isn’t within walking distance,” Angelica countered.

  “Eleanor was worried someone would buy out the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort and put up a motel.”

  Angelica shook her head. “It won’t happen. That place is a gold mine. But if the village could offer other amenities, it could attract the fully clad nudists in the evenings. And it wouldn’t hurt if Stoneham had a day spa, an antiques joint, and a jeweler. Those are the kinds of businesses that cater to the tourist trade. There are a lot of huge Victorian homes here in the village that would make wonderful bed-and-breakfast inns. The Chamber ought to try to convince some of the owners to convert their properties.”

  Tricia laughed. “Have you told Bob all this? Surely he could recruit those kinds of businesses. I mean, he’s done it before.”

  Angelica shrugged. “Bob’s vision only extends to the properties he owns, which are all rented. But there’s plenty of land on both ends of the village that could be rezoned as commercial property. It just takes someone with vision to pull it off.”

  “And why shouldn’t you be that person?” Tricia suggested, with a laugh.

  Angelica shook her head. “I’ve got enough on my plate. But don’t be surprised if Antonio Barbero and Nigela Racita Associates don’t pull it off first.”

  Tricia thought about it. The way things were going, such development might be possible. “I heard that a small village in Canada—Niagara on the Lake—got just such an infusion of cash from a mysterious woman back in the 1990s. It made all the difference in the wo
rld.”

  “Have you ever been there?” Angelica said with a sly smile.

  Tricia shook her head.

  “I have, and it’s spectacular. Everything you want without losing that small-town charm. And they’ve got scads of wineries within a ten- or fifteen-minute drive, plus a historical fort and a marvelous theater. And in the summertime, there are flowers everywhere. It’s just gorgeous.”

  “When did you go to Canada?”

  “Years ago, with Drew,” she said with a wave of her hand. Drew had been her fourth husband.

  Tricia leaned back against her seat, wishing she was anywhere else in the state—the country, the planet—than staring at Nikki Brimfield’s darkened house. How she longed to escape her life. She hadn’t had more than a day off—at Christmas—since she’d opened Haven’t Got a Clue. And now, with Ginny gone, she had no hope of having a day’s respite until she’d fully trained someone else. And since she hadn’t felt comfortable enough giving Ginny a key, would she be as restrictive with whomever she hired to take Ginny’s place? Part of her hoped she’d learned her lesson. The other part wasn’t so sure.

  “You’re being awfully quiet,” Angelica said. “Is it because Russ is seeing Nikki?”

  Tricia shook her head. “It’s just one thing piling on top of another. Deborah’s death, losing Ginny . . . What else can happen?”

  In the dim light, Tricia could see the ghost of a smile light Angelica’s face. “It’s that old Chinese curse. . . .”

  “May you live in interesting times,” Tricia recited. “Yeah, I know all about it.”

  “Interesting doesn’t necessarily mean good—or bad,” Angelica said. “Just different.”

  She turned the key in the ignition and steered away from the curb, waiting until they were half a block from Nikki’s house before she switched on the car’s headlights.

  Tricia was tired of living a different life. She wanted her old life back. No, that wasn’t right, either. She wanted parts of her old life back, and she wanted them to neatly mesh with the life she’d built for herself since Christopher had left her. That wasn’t going to happen.

  It was time for a new plan.

  Too bad she had no idea where to start.

  Sixteen

  At nine o’clock Monday morning, the sun was up and the temperature was already near eighty. It would be a hot one. When Tricia opened the door to Haven’t Got a Clue to retrieve her newspaper, she saw Elizabeth Crane at the door of the Happy Domestic. She paused to watch as Elizabeth became more and more frustrated as she juggled keys, a coffee cup, and tried to keep little Davey from struggling out of his stroller.

  Tricia tucked the paper under her arm and looked both ways before crossing the street to join her. “Something wrong?” she asked as she approached.

  “Did you know the sale of the Happy Domestic has already gone through?” Elizabeth said, her voice shrill.

  “I heard,” Tricia said sympathetically.

  “Look at this!” Elizabeth said, and pointed to the shiny brass keyhole. “The locks have been changed. I’m shut out,” she cried in despair, and then burst into tears.

  Tricia gathered her in a hug, patting her back.

  “Nana, Nana!” Davey cried, yanking on Elizabeth’s sweater.

  Elizabeth pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “I apologize for losing it. I just can’t believe how insensitive that Barbero man could be.”

  “He did tell you about the sale last night,” Tricia said.

  “Yes, but he said nothing about changing the locks.”

  “Nana, Nana!” Davey insisted, and Elizabeth turned her attention to her grandson.

  This was Tricia’s first chance to look at the boy since David’s revelation about his paternity the night before. No doubt about it, Davey looked nothing like David Black, and she’d been right in thinking he didn’t resemble Deborah’s side of the family, either. Not with that nose and coloring.

  “Did you get my message last night?” Tricia asked.

  “What? Oh, yes. Sorry. I was upset. I didn’t feel up to making calls. I intended to speak to you this morning, after I opened the store.”

  “But Ginny’s supposed to be in this morning.”

  “I wanted to get here first, to clean up some of the paperwork, and be on hand to welcome her.” She rummaged through the diaper bag and came up with a box of animal crackers.

  There was no easy way to broach the subject other than to just do it. Tricia took a steadying breath before speaking. “I had a rather disturbing conversation with David last night.”

  “I haven’t had a decent conversation with him for months,” Elizabeth said, and handed Davey a few of the crackers.

  “Did you know David wasn’t Davey’s father?” Tricia asked.

  Elizabeth’s mouth dropped, and for a moment Tricia thought she might burst into tears once again. But then she pursed her lips and looked away. Finally, she nodded.

  “Do you know who Davey’s biological father is?”

  She nodded again, looking down at the child. “But that doesn’t matter. David has more or less said I can keep Davey. I’m more than willing to dedicate my life to bringing him up, but according to the law, David is the boy’s father. He’s responsible for child support until Davey’s eighteen. And I’m going to see to it that he pays.”

  “Why?”

  “To punish him. If he’d been a better husband, Deborah wouldn’t have felt the need to look for affection from other men.”

  There’d been more than one man? “Oh, Elizabeth, that’s so unfair—to David, and to Davey.”

  “Feeling sorry for him? Well, don’t. He’s made out like a bandit. Not only has he sold the store, but he’s going to sue the village, that pilot’s widow, and anyone else he thinks he can shake a nickel out of. He had Deborah heavily insured. I found the paperwork in the store.”

  So, Tricia had been right. “Is it still there?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I took it home on Friday. If I hadn’t seen the crash with my own eyes, I would swear that David had my baby killed for the money.”

  “Have you told the NTSB investigator this?”

  “He doesn’t care about possible motives. All he cares about is the crash. The Sheriff’s Department won’t listen. ‘Not in our jurisdiction.’ ”

  Davey thrashed around in his stroller. “Cookies, cookies!” he hollered.

  Elizabeth grabbed a fistful of animal crackers from the box she still held and practically threw them at the child. He seemed delighted and picked up a miniature lion, biting off its head.

  “Will you one day tell Davey about his real father, or would you rather he hear it from David?”

  “He never has to know.”

  “You don’t think David will be bitter enough to tell him?”

  Elizabeth straightened, and her expression hardened as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I can handle David.”

  Tricia had never seen this side of Elizabeth—so coldhearted. Had Deborah carried the same trait—and just kept it better hidden?

  “You know that’s not fair.” Why was she suddenly feeling sorry for David Black?

  Elizabeth leveled an angry glare at Tricia. “Whoever said life was fair? If it were, my daughter would still be alive. Now I don’t have her, and I don’t have her beautiful store. Instead, it was ripped from me and given to some punk kid who knows nothing about the business.”

  The slur against Ginny caught Tricia off guard. “Oh, Elizabeth—that’s so unfair.”

  “I thought you were Deborah’s friend—my friend,” she sneered. “Now I see you’re just as rotten as David.” She grabbed the handles on the stroller and turned it, nearly smashing it into Tricia’s shins. “Get out of my way.”

  Tricia stood back as Elizabeth strode down the street, head held high, Davey’s childish laugh echoing off the buildings along the empty street.

  Shaken, Tricia returned to Haven’t Got a Clue. Miss Marple sat near the door and greeted her with a cheerful
“Yow!”

  “Glad you think so,” Tricia said. She deposited the newspaper on the sales counter and headed for the beverage station. She needed a jolt of caffeine—STAT! She grabbed the pot, got water from the washroom tap, and filled the coffeemaker’s reservoir before placing the filter and ground coffee in the machine and hitting the on switch. Now to wait the five or six minutes it would take to brew.

  She felt torn. While she felt sorry for Elizabeth being locked out of the Happy Domestic, she’d been shocked by her attitude about Davey’s paternity. Of course she was upset—she had reason to be. Life had not been kind to her these past few days. Lashing out at David had to be a reaction to his selling the store and not giving her a chance to buy it. While the entire conversation had been upsetting, she could see why Elizabeth would be angry. She’d give her the benefit of the doubt and ask Ginny about the locks and Elizabeth’s status at the Happy Domestic.

  She glanced at her watch. Knowing Ginny, she’d arrive early at her new job—she was probably already in transit. Tricia moved to the front of the store to look out the window, intending to wait for Ginny to arrive.

  By the time the coffee had finished, she saw Ginny walk down the sidewalk toward the Happy Domestic.

  Tricia poured two cups of coffee into the paper coffee cups intended for her customers, capped them, and headed out the door.

  Ginny had already opened the door to the shop by the time Tricia arrived. Tricia knocked on the door, and seconds later Ginny appeared. She noted the coffee in Tricia’s hand and a smile lit her face. “What a wonderful sight on my first day on the job. Come on in,” she urged, and stood by to let Tricia inside.

  Tricia handed one of the cups to Ginny. “Just how you like it.”

  “I always said you were the best boss. Maybe one day I can be, too.”

  “That’s kind of why I came over to see you. Ginny, did you know the locks had been changed since Antonio broke the news to Elizabeth last night?”