“I know you and Grant are on the outs, but is there a chance you could ask him?”
Tricia frowned. “I guess so. By the way, we had lunch today.”
“And how did that go?”
“Sort of weird. Except for making me pay for my own meal, he acted like everything was fine between us. Is he in denial or trying to win me back? I’m just not sure.”
“Men,” Angelica said and shook her head. “I swear, if I live to be a hundred, I will never understand them.”
Tricia nodded. Baker had blown her off one time too many, and now that she’d told him they were finished, he seemed to suddenly understand just what he might be losing. Too little attention, too late. He’d been married to his job … until his ex-wife had a potentially fatal illness. Their marriage had been on the rocks, but he’d put his relationship with Tricia on hold to support his almost ex-wife. Now that Tricia was his almost ex-girlfriend/lover, he seemed willing to put some quality time into that almost-dead relationship, too. Tricia did not want to be the object of Baker’s pity or desperation.
“I think I lied,” Angelica said, and her stomach growled. “In fact, I know I did, because I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” Tricia admitted.
“If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would you want?” Angelica asked.
Tricia closed her eyes and thought about it. “A Belgian waffle with bacon on the side.”
“And a mug of hot chocolate?” Angelica asked. Tricia nodded. “Sorry. I don’t have the ingredients here.”
Tricia sighed, disappointed.
“But I do over at Booked for Lunch.”
“Since when do you serve waffles? The place is called Booked for Lunch, not Booked for Brunch.”
“I only make them for certain customers. Now, feel like taking a walk across the street?”
Tricia smiled. “It’s not all that far.”
Sarge barked. It was obvious he did not want to be left behind again. They put on their coats and Angelica scooped him up as they headed for the door.
They walked across the street in silence. Could Stan’s killer actually be an outsized woman? The chances were nil. It would have been such an easy person to pin the murder on … if they’d had a clue who the woman might have been.
One thing was certain; very few Chamber members even knew Stan Berry, and therefore they had no motive to kill him. The most viable suspects in the case were still Joelle Morrison and, much as she didn’t want to think about it, Will Berry. Case? The thought amused her. It wasn’t her case. She was just an innocent bystander. Well, as the person who’d found the body she was more involved than most who’d been at the inn Friday morning, but she knew only a little more than everyone else who’d been at the inn at the time of the murder.
Angelica opened the darkened café, set Sarge down on the floor, and headed for the small kitchen. Tricia took off her coat and put a pot of water on to make the instant cocoa, thinking about the pathetic women in the smutty magazines. Why, next to them she looked like a stick figure. A stick figure who was about to eat a great big waffle, bacon, and down a mug of cocoa.
This was one time she wasn’t going to worry about calories, and she positively grinned.
SEVENTEEN
Whether it was the heavy meal or trying to figure out who killed Stan Berry, Tricia found it nearly impossible to sleep that night. She tossed and turned. Turned on the light to read for an hour, then turned off the light to stare at the ceiling for an hour. She did this several times. She must have slept a little, for her alarm clock roused her from a doze, and Miss Marple, who’d had no trouble sleeping through the night, let Tricia know she was ready for a hearty breakfast. Coffee was all that Tricia wanted on that gray, gloomy morning. Better yet, espresso. There was only one place to get it in Stoneham. After showering and dressing, and taking even more care with her hair and makeup than usual—to cover up the dark circles under her eyes—Tricia headed for the Coffee Bean.
She’d timed it right, too—arriving after the locals had gotten their caffeine fixes and before the tourists showed up. “Good morning, Alexa.”
“Good morning, Tricia.” Alexa and her husband, Boris, had been among the first merchants to open for business in the revitalized village of Stoneham. The Russian couple was known for being opposites. Alexa was usually smiling and cheerful, while her husband tended to scowl and grunt. Thankfully, it was Alexa who waited on the customers during peak hours, and even though this was between rush times, Tricia was glad it was Alexa behind the counter when she arrived.
“What can I do for you today?” Alexa added, with just the barest hint of an accent. Boris, on the other hand, sounded like a villain from a Cold War flick.
“A cup of espresso, please.”
“Ah, it’s going to be that kind of day?” Alexa asked as she prepared the coffee order to go.
Tricia nodded. When she paid for the brew, she handed Alexa one of Angelica’s rulers.
“Was ist das?” she asked, showing off her ability to speak yet another language. She happened to be fluent in at least four of them. Obviously Angelica hadn’t made it to the shop to give the barista a ruler.
“Just a little reminder that my sister Angelica is running for Chamber of Commerce president.”
Alexa frowned as she inspected the cheap wooden ruler. “Is that all there is?”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean?” Tricia said. Had Bob Kelly been by with his own brand of payola?
“Mr. Kelly has offered us a month of free rent—if he wins, that is.”
Tricia blinked, her mouth going dry. “A whole month? Has he offered that to everyone on Main Street?”
Alexa shook her head. “Just his tenants. The others will get a free weekend at the Brookview Inn—all inclusive.”
Good heavens! “And would that sway your vote?”
Alexa shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But the Chamber and its members might be better off with someone more experienced than Angelica.”
“My sister has lots of business experience. She does have two thriving businesses here in the village.”
“Mr. Kelly disputes that. He used the word … neophyte. And since we do not see her accounts—how do we know?” she asked with a shrug.
Tricia wasn’t sure how to counter that argument.
“We have done well in Stoneham,” Alexa went on. “Mr. Kelly has done a good job bringing people here to shop. Would your sister do the same?”
“I’m sure she will. She has a lot of ideas on how to make us a destination point.”
“Will she make the village a safer place to live? There have been too many murders these past few years.”
“Um, it’s not up to Angelica to improve safety. Presumably the police will work on that.”
Alexa’s gaze narrowed. “Always it seems that you are at the heart of these crimes.”
“It’s just a coincidence,” Tricia said and gave a nervous laugh. Since she was already there, Tricia decided to push another topic. “By any chance, were you acquainted with Stan Berry?”
“Nyet. I saw him at the Chamber meetings, but he was a cheapskate. He never once came into the shop, so we never patronized his sign shop. We go to Milford for our window signs.”
“What did you think of his campaign promises?”
“Not good. He would have destroyed the hard work Bob Kelly has done to bring in business. I think your sister would be good for the village, but free rent for a month might be better.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Alexa shrugged. “Business is business.”
There was no use arguing the point. It seemed Alexa had already made her decision—shortsighted though it might be. Still, Tricia forced a smile and placed her change in the jar marked TIPS. “Thanks for the espresso. See you Wednesday at the election.”
Alexa nodded in the direction of the jar. “Thank you. And do not worry, I will be there.”
Tricia watched for traffic bef
ore crossing the street. She waited until she was back inside Haven’t Got a Clue before she picked up the heavy receiver on her Art Deco phone and dialed Angelica’s number.
“Good morning, Haven’t Got a Clue. Is that you, Trish?” Angelica asked.
Thank goodness for Caller ID. “Yes. Ange, have you heard what Bob is offering as a bribe for votes?”
The door opened, and Pixie entered, holding a shopping bag and her vintage alligator purse. Mr. Everett brought up the rear. Seeing Tricia was on the phone, they tiptoed inside the shop.
“What’s he giving out? Kelly Realty pens? Those cheesy envelope slitters? Or how about green tote bags with Kelly Realty printed on the side?” she said and laughed.
“He’s offering a month’s free rent to all his tenants!”
“What?” Angelica hollered, forcing Tricia to move the phone away from her ear.
“And a weekend at the Brookview Inn—all inclusive—for those who aren’t tenants.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Look at it this way: Bob probably figures it’s a win-win situation. If he loses the election, he’s not out a nickel. If he wins, he’s a hero.”
“But he’d be out at least thirty grand.”
“He’d look awfully good pumping thirty thousand dollars into the local economy, whereas your rulers were made in China.”
Pixie allowed Mr. Everett to take her coat to hang in the back of the store and stood there, eavesdropping. Tricia was too upset to even care.
Angelica’s voice was hushed. “Oh, God. What have I done?”
“At least you can’t be accused of bribery. I wonder what the state Chamber of Commerce organization would think of his strategy. He’s also telling the members that you’re a neophyte. That you can’t do a good job because you’ve been in business only a couple of years.”
“But I’m doing well with the Cookery, Booked for Lunch, and my writing career. Bob only has his real estate firm to worry about, and since he’s the only Realtor in town, he doesn’t have any competition.”
“Yeah, and I’ll bet he’s telling people you’ll be too busy with your own businesses to care about theirs.”
“I’m doomed,” Angelica moaned.
“Don’t give up yet. I’m sure we can spin this to make Bob look bad.”
“I don’t know. I mean, the thing that puts me off on our whole political system is all the mudslinging and negative campaigning. It makes me never want to vote again. I refuse to sink to that level.”
Tricia felt her throat constrict. “I’ve never been as proud of you as I am right now. You deserve to be the next Chamber president, and if you aren’t elected, the members deserve what they get.”
“Oh, Trish, what a beautiful thing to say. Thank you.” Angelica sniffed. Could it be she was fighting tears?
“Okay, I need to open the store. We’ll talk later today.”
“Yes. If not lunch, then later.”
“All right. Bye.” She replaced the phone in its cradle and looked to see Pixie standing in front of her.
“I kinda heard what you said,” she admitted. “Ya know, I used to know some pretty tough characters. Some of them still owe me. I could have someone take Kelly out.”
“Kill him?” Tricia asked, horrified.
“Nah, nothing that dramatic. Just rough him up a bit. Break a leg or two. Make him see reason—back off on his attempted bribery.”
“No, thank you. Angelica is determined to run a clean campaign.”
Pixie shrugged. “Then I hope she won’t mind losing.”
Mr. Everett cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Ms. Miles. It’s only proper that Ms. Miles—your sister,” he clarified, “conducts herself in a manner that fosters pride in the proceedings, and the office where she hopes to serve. And while your sister and I have had our differences in the past, I do believe she is the best candidate for the job. I’m only sorry I’m no longer a member of the Chamber of Commerce so that I could vote for her.”
“Thank you, Mr. Everett.”
“I still think taking that bastard Kelly out is the best way to go … but what do I know?” Pixie groused and sauntered away, heading for the beverage station, where she found the coffee hadn’t been started. She frowned, snatched up the empty pot, and headed for the washroom to get some water.
“I’d best get started on the back shelves,” Mr. Everett said and headed off in that direction just as the phone rang. Now what?
“Haven’t Got a Clue. This is Tricia—”
“Hey, ex-boss. Are you available for lunch today?” Ginny asked.
Tricia smiled. “I’m pretty sure I could be. Where and when?”
“The Bookshelf Diner—not to cheat Angelica out of our patronage, but because it’s so small, we’re not likely to get in and out in a timely manner.”
“I know. She has lamented that problem since the day she opened.”
“And it’s too bad, because I’d prefer to go there.”
“I can pull some strings. I’ve got an in with the owner.”
“That’s true.”
“If we meet at one fifty, they’d still serve us.”
“Works for me. See you there.” Ginny broke the connection.
Tricia replaced the receiver once again. Lunch with Ginny was the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of Tricia’s apparent maid-of-honor deficiencies. She had a feeling she knew what Ginny’s reaction would be, but still, she felt she had to mention it.
Pixie returned, the coffeepot full of water. “I noticed Sarah Jane is still sitting in the readers’ nook,” she said and moved behind the beverage station to start the brew.
Oh, dear. Tricia had forgotten about the world’s ugliest doll. Pixie paused in her prep, expecting a comment. Tricia couldn’t seem to come up with one.
“You know, I was wondering if we could use Sarah Jane in our holiday decorating.”
“Oh?” Tricia said, too stunned by the suggestion to offer any other remark.
“Yeah. Remember Nancy Drew number twenty-four?”
Tricia’s mind raced. It had been a long time since she’d read any Nancy Drew mysteries. “Uh … The Clue in the Old Album?” she guessed.
Pixie’s eyes lit up. “Exactly!”
“Refresh my memory. What does a doll have to do with the plot?”
“Well, there’s an old album, a lost doll, and don’t forget the missing gypsy violinist.”
Tricia had forgotten all three. “What did you have in mind?”
“We could dress Sarah Jane in a red outfit with a cute little hat, and have her hold a copy of the book.”
“Do we even have a copy of the book?” Tricia asked.
“Oh, sure. I saw one up in the storeroom last week.”
“Where would we get a Christmassy outfit, and what if Sarah Jane proves to be such a great sales tool that the book flies out the door?”
Pixie shrugged. “There’s gotta be a million more doll-based mysteries. I could Google it. I’ll bet we could sell a lot of them, and if not dolls, then mysteries set at Christmastime.”
So far Pixie was batting a thousand. “Okay. If you can find an outfit at your favorite thrift shop, I’ll pay for it.”
Pixie grinned and nodded. “Man, what a great team we make!”
Tricia allowed herself a small smile. “That we do.”
While Pixie finished setting up the beverage station, Tricia turned to adjust the blinds, noticing a familiar figure making his way down the sidewalk across the street: Christopher. She moved to her left and away from the window, just as he stole a glance at Haven’t Got a Clue.
Tricia frowned, wondering just what her ex-husband was up to now.
EIGHTEEN
Ginny was late. But then, she often was. A few stragglers sat nursing coffee at Booked for Lunch, but things would be different the next week when the holiday shoppers came out in full force and Stoneham would see almost as many visitors as they did during the summer or the fall leaf-peeping seaso
n.
No sooner had Tricia sat down when Bev, the waitress, showed up with the coffeepot and poured. “Good afternoon, Tricia. The usual?”
She nodded “I’m meeting Ginny Wilson. You can bring mine with Ginny’s order.”
“Sure thing.” Before Bev could return the pot to the coffee station, Ginny arrived, sans coat, hat, or gloves.
“You’ll catch your death,” Tricia admonished her.
“Coming from you, I take that as a threat,” Ginny said with a laugh and scooted into the booth. “But the truth is I ran out the door because I was afraid of getting sucked back into work. Brittney needs to learn to run the shop without me. That won’t happen if I’m always standing next to her telling her what to do all the time.”
Bev poured Ginny’s coffee and placed a couple of creamers on the table. “Do you know what you want?”
“Chef’s salad, please, with raspberry vinaigrette on the side. I’ve got a special dress I need to get into on Saturday.”
Bev nodded and headed for the kitchen.
“Sorry, I’m late. In addition to walking Brittney through every sale, I’ve been working on my window display. I want everything to be perfect on Black Friday.”
“I should think you’d be more concerned with the wedding plans for Saturday.”
“I’m trying not to think about it too much. Thanks to Joelle, it doesn’t even feel like my own wedding. It’s more like she’s staging a performance. My job is to show up in costume, recite a few lines, dance when told, eat when told, and cut the cake when told. Joelle has everything planned to the minute. Oh, how I wish I’d refused the gift of her services.”
“It’s too late for that,” Tricia said.
“I’ve actually wondered if I should have postponed the wedding. What was I thinking planning it for the first week of real Christmas sales? And even worse, Stan Berry’s death.”
Tricia sipped her coffee. “It’s not like Stan’s ghost is going to show up to ruin the festivities.”
“I know, but when my folks find out, they’ll be basket cases.”
“You haven’t told them?”
Ginny shook her head. “My mom looks for bad omens, and a murder just a week before the ceremony is just the kind of thing that cranks up her creep-out factor. I don’t suppose there’s any news on an arrest in the case.”
Not the Killing Type Page 18
