“Five thousand dollars—that they’ll try to shake her down for more.”
“Why did she pay?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t want to talk to me about it.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and then Baker broke the quiet. “I can’t do much unless she comes to the police for help.”
“I realize that, but I don’t know what else to do, and I trust your advice.”
“Thank you, Tricia. It’s nice to know you still have at least that much respect for me.”
“I never stopped respecting you, Grant,” she said sincerely.
“Yeah, I guess I knew that,” Baker said quietly. “Look, keep an eye on the situation, and if things heat up, get Angelica to come talk to me, will you?”
“I’ll certainly try. What gets me is that she seems worried about this, but doesn’t seem to care if she has to keep paying through the nose to keep her secrets quiet.”
“That’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“My hands are tied until she’s willing to talk,” Baker reiterated.
“Thanks for listening, and for telling me about Ted.”
“And you watch yourself. Someone out there might be out to get you—one way or another.”
His words caused a chill to ripple through her.
“Talk to you later,” Baker said, and severed the connection.
Tricia punched the end call icon on her phone and set it on the desk before her. Who on earth could have it in for her? Chauncey? He’d slapped her two years before. He’d been rude to her on a number of occasions, but he’d seemed to mellow since the cruise they’d both been on the previous January, no doubt due to Mary’s calming influence. The fact that he might oppose her in the Chamber of Commerce election hadn’t worried her before her conversation with Baker, and if she was honest, it still wasn’t a concern. Still, Tricia reached for the typed list of people who’d received an invitation to her party Friday night. As she skimmed through it, she saw the names of several people who’d also had a beef with her since she’d moved to Stoneham, however flimsy.
Nikki Brimfield-Smith had been jealous of Tricia during her courtship with Russ. Tricia and Russ had been a couple for a little over a year, and when they’d broken up, Russ hadn’t taken it well. He’d even stalked Tricia for a short period of time. And then he fell in love with Nikki, although the course of their married life hadn’t exactly turned out to be all roses and champagne. Nikki had wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. Russ hadn’t exactly taken to fatherhood. Money was an issue, and they argued over the kinds of stories Russ covered for the Stoneham Weekly News. But the life they shared had nothing to do with Tricia.
Tricia and her contractor, Jim Stark, had gotten off to a shaky start, but they’d had no real friction during the months he and his team of workers and subcontractors had been transforming the building she now owned, including the space where she now sat.
David Black had made it clear that he detested Tricia, and so had Brandy Arkin, but both were out of the picture, although Black hadn’t gone all that far—just the next town over—and certainly neither had attended her party.
Tricia racked her brain, but could come up with no other probable suspects. Still, somebody had poisoned that one mushroom. Which of the guests at her party could have held a big enough grudge against Tricia to cost Ted Harper his life?
NINE
The rest of the day dragged, mostly because Tricia was eager to return to Angelica’s apartment and hopefully talk some sense into her sister. Or was that the wrong approach? Perhaps she should let things lie and hope that Angelica would come to her senses on her own. Then again, that wasn’t likely to happen. Nobody in the world had a harder head than Angelica. There was only one person Tricia knew who might talk some sense into her—Antonio—and he had no clue what was going on.
The magnets had arrived, and they’d spent another hour putting the swag bags together, with Mr. Everett adding the last item, Pixie tying the bags, and Tricia curling the ribbon. The bags looked gorgeous.
“I think we should coordinate our outfits for the Chamber meeting tomorrow,” Pixie said as she donned her coat. “I was thinking of wearing my blue suit with the white piping. It’s very businesslike, and of course I’ll have matching pumps and purse. What are you going to wear?”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Tricia admitted. “How about my peach sweater set?”
“Oh, no,” Pixie admonished. “That would clash terribly with my suit. How about your light blue sweater set, black slacks, and black flats. A nice necklace or pin would be attractive, too. I thought about wearing that nice starfish pin you got me in Bermuda. It’s absolutely adorable.”
Tricia smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“And the sweater set?” Pixie prodded.
“The light blue,” Tricia agreed.
“Good,” Pixie practically squealed.
Mr. Everett shook his head wearily. “I’m glad I don’t have to go. Wearing a suit on a weekday …” He shook his head.
“I think you look fine with your shirt, tie, and sweaters. In fact, everybody should wear more sweaters more often. They’re so cozy,” Tricia said.
“If you think so,” Pixie said, sounding bored. She only wore what she called “incredibly cute” sweaters, and usually those coordinated with something else she was wearing. Tricia often wondered how big Pixie’s clothes closet was, since she seldom seemed to wear an outfit more than once.
“Now, you’ll be bringing the box with the goodies, right? Or do you want me to help you carry it to your car right now?” she asked.
“That’s okay. I can manage it tomorrow morning.”
“All right then. Good night,” Pixie called.
“See you in the morning,” Mr. Everett said with a wave.
Tricia waved back. “Have a great evening!”
The door closed behind them, and Tricia didn’t waste any time. She secured the day’s receipts, left Miss Marple an ample kitty snack, and threw on her coat before leaving her store and heading next door. The Cookery had already closed and Frannie had left for the day, so Tricia sorted through her keys and let herself in.
As she hurried up the stairs, she noticed there was no aroma—no hint of what Angelica might be preparing for their dinner—and of course Sarge was already barking a greeting. After the reception she’d received earlier that day, it was comforting to know that at least somebody would be glad to see her.
Tricia opened the door, and Sarge’s barking stepped up a notch.
“Oh, hush!” Angelica called from the kitchen, and the dog instantly went silent, but that didn’t stop his tail from wagging so hard Tricia thought it might fly right off.
“You’re such a good boy. Into the kitchen for a biscuit,” she told him.
Sarge did such an abrupt about-face that Tricia wondered if he might have hurt himself, but he went racing toward the kitchen, and she knew he’d be waiting by the counter, where Angelica kept his treats in a crystal jar. She hung up her coat and called out a cautious, “Hello.”
“You know where to find me,” came Angelica’s voice.
Sure enough, she was at the island pouring them each a martini. Well, at least that part of their evening routine had returned. Tricia gave Sarge his biscuit, and he grabbed it and zoomed to his bed to eat it.
“I sure wouldn’t want crumbs in my bed.”
“That’s why I never have breakfast anywhere near my bedroom,” Angelica agreed. She raised her glass. “Cheers.”
Tricia picked up her own and then settled on her usual stool at the island. “What kind of a day did you have?”
“Quiet,” Angelica said, and sipped her drink. “I worked from home all day.”
“You must have gotten a lot accomplished.”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
Tricia sipped her drink. She couldn’t remember her sister ever sounding so depressed. She decided to introduce a new topic of conversation.
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“Pixie and I are all set for the Chamber meeting tomorrow. I pretty much know what I’m going to say, and we’ll see what happens after that. You are going to the meeting tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“I am the Chamber president until December thirty-first, so yes, I will be there to preside over the meeting.”
“Will you remain a member after your term is finished?”
“Of course.” At least Angelica’s tone was beginning to sound more normal. Must be the gin, Tricia mused.
It was time to broach a potentially explosive subject. Although, maybe she’d fudge a little first. “I spoke to Chief Baker today.”
Angelica’s eyes narrowed. “About?”
“Ted Harper’s autopsy results.”
“Oh.”
Tricia nodded and sipped her drink. “It seems Ted was allergic to sumac.”
“Sumac? Did they find that in his stomach contents?”
“It’s too early for a toxicology report, but that’s the line of inquiry they’re taking.”
“Sumac?” Angelica again asked. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I. Grant thinks that only one mushroom was tampered with—otherwise there would have been others who became sick.”
“Nobody but Frannie knew Ted, so unless she targeted him, no one else would have had a motive. And Frannie really liked this guy. There’s no way she’d have bumped him off.”
“Grant thinks someone might have wanted to make trouble for me.”
“Someone at the party? I can’t think who.”
“I’ve had a few altercations with a few of the people who were there,” Tricia admitted.
“Such as?”
“Chauncey Porter.”
“Oh, yeah—he’s a given,” Angelica said rather glibly.
“Nikki and Jim Stark, for another two.”
“You’re right. But none of those encounters were serious enough for them to come after you. And none of them are actively angry with you—right now, that is.”
Tricia didn’t like the implication at the end of that last sentence. Did Angelica think they might again become angry at her in the near future? She wasn’t about to ask.
“Did Grant bring them up?” Angelica asked.
Tricia shook her head. “I glanced at the invitation list and they sort of sprang off the page.”
“You could even add Russ to the list. He wasn’t happy when the two of you broke up.”
“That was ages ago, and obviously he got over me, or he wouldn’t be married to Nikki today.”
“And how long do you think that marriage is going to last?” Angelica asked.
She had a point. Despite speaking with Russ on at least a monthly basis for the past year, Tricia couldn’t remember seeing him smile or laugh during any of their conversations. In fact, the man seemed downright depressed a good deal of the time. Was it possible he blamed Tricia for his unhappy life? She sure hoped not.
“Maybe you should let me go over the list. I do have a crackerjack memory.”
“Crackerjack?” Tricia asked.
Angelica wrinkled her nose. “Okay—so I’m just a little bit hungry, although something sweet would definitely not go with a martini.”
“I’ve got virtually nothing in my fridge, thanks to the police hauling just about everything away. What have you got?”
“My cupboards are pretty bare, too. But I’ve got some nice salty crackers. Want some?”
Tricia shrugged. “Why not?”
Angelica retrieved a brown sleeve of crackers, opened it, and scattered ten or twelve on a plate, taking one herself and offering them to her sister. Tricia took two.
“Did anything else happen today?” Angelica asked.
“I was about to ask you the same question.”
“All quiet.”
Was she telling the truth, or hiding some new secret? Tricia wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“I haven’t mentioned it to you, but I did tell Grant that Bob Kelly’s curse on Friday seems to have taken effect.”
For a moment, Angelica looked confused. Tricia explained what she meant, describing the incidents from Saturday and Sunday.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“I didn’t think you were in a position to hear it.”
Angelica scowled. “I’m sorry. I have been preoccupied of late.”
“Can you think of anyone who’d carry out that kind of mischief for Bob?”
Angelica shook her head. “We were together for over two years, and I never knew him to have any close friends.”
As Tricia had suspected.
“What about those Chamber members his defense team dug up?”
“They must have owed him something,” Angelica theorized.
“Well, the curse may already be lifted. I’ve had no more tricks since Sunday.”
“Good.” Angelica’s stomach grumbled, and they both looked down at the empty cracker plate. Tricia hadn’t even noticed that they’d polished them off. “Shall we order a pizza?”
“Only if you order lots of veggies. It’s too fattening otherwise.” Which was bunk. It would be just as fattening, despite the veggies.
“But of course.”
They decided on toppings and Angelica made the call.
From then on, they made innocuous conversation, neither of them seeming to want to dwell on darker subjects that they apparently had no control over. Still, it felt awkward, which hadn’t been the norm for quite a while.
The pizza arrived in record time, and Tricia went down to the shop’s front door to retrieve it. They ate in silence, with Sarge looking at them with keen interest, his soulful eyes wide and hopeful. Tricia tossed him a piece of sausage when she was sure Angelica wasn’t looking. The dog smacked his lips and looked thankful.
With not much else to say, Tricia went home earlier than usual to her beautiful and far-too-quiet apartment, thankful for the warm welcome she received from her cat. And for the first time in a long time, she felt positively lonely.
TEN
Southern New Hampshire’s weather is always unpredictable in November, but on that day the meteorologist from Nashua’s most popular TV station had hit the mark. The forecasted rain arrived at just about seven the next morning, making Tricia wish she had taken Pixie up on her offer to help her carry the box of campaign swag to her car. But Tricia was nothing if not resourceful. Placing the box on the shop’s dolly, she covered it with a large plastic trash bag and strapped it on with a bungee cord before making her way to the municipal parking lot, then maneuvered it into her trunk without it getting wet. She would reverse the process once she got to the Brookview Inn, where the Chamber meeting was to take place in the main dining room.
Pixie had already arrived at the inn and was waiting in her car in the crowded parking lot when Tricia arrived. She got out, opened a big golf umbrella, and hurried to intercept Tricia. She looked quite elegant in a long tailored raincoat, different from the one she’d worn two days before, and her hair was pulled into a smart chignon, with modest silver stud earrings as a crowning touch.
“Looks like the joint’s jammed!”
“There’s a good turnout just about every month,” Tricia said. “The Brookview puts on a really nice breakfast.” Would Nigela Ricita Associates be so generous to the Chamber once Angelica was no longer its president? Time would tell.
Pixie held the umbrella over both them and the box, and they entered the inn through the back door. Once inside, Pixie took charge of the carton, while Tricia returned the dolly to the back of her car. By the time she entered the main dining room, Pixie was already circulating through the crowd, handing out the pretty cellophane bags and encouraging the members to “Vote for Tricia.” She was grateful for the sentiment, but she wished Pixie had waited for her to arrive and let her make her own pitch. Still, she’d get to do that after the breakfast, and she certainly couldn’t fault Pixie for her unbridled enthusiasm.
By the time Tricia had che
cked her coat and returned to the dining room, she saw that Angelica had arrived and had staked out their usual table near the front of the room.
“My, Pixie looks smart. Very professional. And she sure seems to be enjoying herself,” Angelica commented.
“Yes. She kind of spoiled the surprise about my entering the race, but …” Tricia let the sentence trail off.
“It’s not much of a surprise. I’ve hinted to enough people that you’d be in the running.”
“Was that to encourage or discourage others from running?”
“The latter.” Angelica glanced across the room to where Chauncey and Mary sat near the coffee urns. He glared at Pixie, who seemed to be charming a number of the men with her patter. Mary’s expression was indifferent as she held her cup with both hands, looking in the opposite direction.
“Do you think Mary and Chauncey are happy?” Angelica asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, their relationship seemed hot and heavy up until the time they actually got engaged. Things seem to have cooled a bit. Last month I asked Mary if they’d set the date and she was rather evasive about it.”
“I know she wasn’t pleased by the size of her engagement ring, and the fact that Chauncey doesn’t want to make a big deal about their wedding day. That may have cooled her ardor.”
“Well, as someone who has trooped down the aisle four times, I could tell her to listen to her gut, but not everyone appreciates good advice.”
Wasn’t that the truth? And Angelica was certainly guilty of it herself if she didn’t go to the police with those blackmail letters. But Tricia chose not to mention it just then.
“It looks like a good crowd,” Tricia said, sizing up the gathering.
She recognized most of the merchants from Main Street. Russ Smith sat at a table with several of them, but his wife, Nikki, was not among them. That wasn’t unusual. Nikki’s business opened at eight, and she seldom came to Chamber meetings.
“Let’s get some coffee and sit down,” Angelica suggested.
By the time they had made their continental breakfast choices and returned to their table with coffee, Pixie had finished her rounds and joined them, stashing the box under the table. “What a great bunch of people,” she gushed. “Everybody is so nice. It almost makes me wish I had my own business so I could join.”
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