“Not Stan Berry’s ghost, I take it,” Tricia said.
“So far we have had no reports of a ghost in our handicapped restroom. But if we do, I will let you know. Now, ladies, I happen to know you must be here early tomorrow for the Chamber of Commerce election.”
“Will you be serving coffee?” Angelica asked.
Antonio shook his head. “Bob Kelly would not authorize the purchase. I should have made it a condition of him using the room, especially since we have had to close the restaurant until at least nine. That will not placate a number of our guests. We will have to offer complimentary continental breakfast delivered to their rooms.” He shook his head in disgust. “Very costly. My employer will not be pleased.”
“No, I imagine she won’t,” Angelica said sympathetically. “Will you get in trouble?”
Antonio shook his head. “But I will probably get a lecture. It is a small price to pay to work for such a living legend.”
Tricia burst out laughing. “Living legend?”
Antonio shrugged and smiled. “In her own mind, at least.” He shook a finger at both women. “You will not tell her I said so.”
“Of course not,” Angelica said. “Unless, of course, she shows up at your wedding, then that’s the first thing I’m going to say.” She paused and thought about it for a moment. “Maybe the second.”
Antonio shook his head. “Now, ladies, you really must go home. However, if you will wait a moment, I will get my coat and walk you to your car.”
“Thank you,” Tricia said.
Antonio nodded and headed back to his office.
“Let’s take a closer look at the Christmas tree. Maybe I’ll get some ideas for the Cookery’s decorations,” Angelica said, and they moseyed closer to the artificial tree, which apparently the inn kept lit 24/7.
“I’m sorry we wasted a trip down here,” Tricia said, as Angelica lifted one of the ornaments and examined it closely.
“Well, we did get to talk to Henry and Antonio. Henry is a dear, isn’t he?” Angelica asked. “When we stayed here after I broke my foot, and you would run an errand or go check on your store, he always made sure I had a cup of coffee and a magazine, or the TV remote and the phone nearby. That kind of service is so rare these days.”
“Yes, and isn’t it lovely that he thinks of his co-workers as family. Even Antonio. I wonder what he’d say about Nigela Ricita? She’s supposedly visited the inn on a number of occasions.”
“But always undercover, right?”
“I guess. We could ask Henry right now—” Tricia said, but there was no time, as Antonio had returned, looking dapper in his long winter coat and a dark cashmere scarf tucked around his neck.
“Ready?” he asked.
Sarge gave a muffled “yip” from inside Angelica’s purse, and the three of them laughed.
TWENTY-ONE
The phone rang at exactly six o’clock the following morning, waking Tricia from a lovely dream where she had just repaired the binding on a first-edition copy of the Book of Kells. Okay, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that there was only one Book of Kells, but everything in dreams makes total and perfect sense, and to have the dream shattered irritated her beyond belief.
The phone rang again and she fumbled to pick up the receiver, if only to quiet the offending thing. “Hello,” she grumbled and saw that Miss Marple had also been awakened from her slumber, looking quite cross, too.
“Oh, Trish—did I wake you?” came Angelica’s wide-awake voice.
“Yes!”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. Only I’ve been up since four, pacing my apartment. Poor Sarge looks exhausted. He’s not used to being awakened at all hours of the night.”
“Neither are Miss Marple and I.”
“I’m so worried about this damn election.”
“Yes, well, there’s nothing you can do about it, and neither could I. Couldn’t you have just let us sleep until the alarm went off?”
“I’m sorry,” Angelica apologized once again. “I just couldn’t stand to be alone one more minute.”
“You’re not alone,” Tricia reminded her. “Sarge is with you.”
“As wonderful and cute and handsome as he is—he’s not a great conversationalist.”
By that time, Tricia knew she was never going to go back to sleep. “What do you need?”
“Fifteen minutes from now, I’ll take Grandma Miles’s peach upside-down cake out of the oven. Wouldn’t you just love to have a nice warm slab of it with a wonderful cup of coffee for your breakfast?”
“Make it twenty and I’ll join you,” Tricia said in resignation. They were, after all, sisters, and they needed to support each other in times of stress. And besides, no matter what, a slice of that upside-down cake would bring back many happy memories. And maybe sharing it would bring Angelica good luck in the election. And yet, Tricia couldn’t help but feel that the election would be a big turning point. Not only for Angelica and Bob but the entire Stoneham business community.
“I’ll have the table set and the coffee poured when you get here,” Angelica said and broke the connection.
As Tricia got ready to leave her apartment, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something really nasty—something life changing—would occur at the Brookview Inn that morning. And yet, she was determined not to share that suspicion with her sister. For better or worse—for all of this—there was nothing she could do to change the events that were about to unfold. She just hoped she was up to mopping up the mess that was to befall them all.
*
Tricia steered her car toward the Brookview Inn. With her stomach full of a cake she hadn’t tasted in decades, as well as the excellent coffee brewed from the Coffee Bean’s finest Colombian beans, Tricia listened without interest as Angelica babbled nervously. At least she’d agreed to leave Sarge at home, much to the dog’s disappointment. He actually pouted, and Tricia was glad to leave the apartment before he pulled a massive guilt trip on both of them.
Tricia parked in the Brookview Inn’s lot for the second time in nine hours. There were still plenty of parking spaces, but that would soon change. Still, with the start of the holiday shopping season only two days away, she knew the other merchants would be as eager to put this election behind them as she was.
They entered the building to find it looking very much the same as it had late the evening before. They seemed to be the first of the Chamber members to arrive, yet the dining room was already fully lighted, and the tables had been set. Despite what Antonio had said the night before, the inn had put on a substantial, complimentary spread of coffee, tea, and a large tray of an assortment of luscious pastries. Tricia wondered what had changed his mind. She meant to ask him, but he didn’t seem to be around, and she sure hoped he’d make an appearance before the actual ballots were collected. It would be close, and Angelica needed every vote she could get.
“What do we do now?” Angelica asked, looking pale. Tricia had never known her sister to be so jumpy.
“There’s not much we can do but go and sit down and wait for everything to start happening.”
Angelica sighed. “I suppose you’re right. What will be, will be.”
Tricia followed her sister into the dining room. They chose to sit at the same table where they had sat five days before. Angelica took off her coat, settling it on the back of her chair, but she headed for the coffee urns and poured herself a cup. Tricia was not about to drink too much. She had no intention of using the inn’s washroom. She didn’t want to tempt fate in case there was another body just waiting to be found.
Thanks to all the coffee she’d already drunk, Angelica was definitely wired as the Chamber of Commerce members began to file into the Brookview Inn’s dining room some fifteen minutes before the election was to take place. Some of them ignored the sisters, but a few waved and even stopped by to wish Angelica well.
Angelica had placed a folded list of all the Chamber members before her on the table and
put a checkmark next to the names of the members as they entered.
“It looks like we’re going to have a full turnout,” Tricia whispered, but Angelica didn’t seem to hear her; her gaze was riveted on the dining room’s entrance.
“I’m about ready to jump out of my skin,” Angelica admitted.
“We’ll know one way or another in just a few minutes.”
“Could you get me another cup of coffee?” Angelica asked.
“No. I’m cutting you off.”
“How about decaf, then? I’m desperate.”
“You will be if you drink anything more. In fact, if you don’t want to miss the election, you’d better visit the ladies’ room before Bob calls the meeting to order.”
“You’re right. He’d be just mean enough to lock the doors at precisely eight o’clock, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.” She excused herself and headed out the door.
Ginny arrived, looking sleep deprived. “Good morning, Tricia. Point me toward the coffee, will you?”
“Over there,” Tricia said. Ginny set her purse on the floor and dumped her coat over the back of a chair and made a beeline for the coffee.
Next to arrive was Michele Fowler. She shuffled up to the table, taking the same seat she’d had on Friday. “Who knew there was an eight o’clock on the opposite side of the day? I haven’t gotten up this early since I was at university—and then only reluctantly so.”
“You showed up at eight o’clock last Friday.”
Michele blinked, dazedly. “I did?”
“You need a caffeine fix. I’ll get you a cup.”
“Thank you, love. Black would be brilliant.”
Tricia got up and headed for the eats table, where Ginny was stirring cream into her coffee. “Looks like there aren’t enough napkins,” Ginny said. “I’d tell Antonio, but I didn’t see him in his office when I arrived.”
“He comes in before eight?” Tricia asked.
“Oh, yeah. He’s usually here before seven to make sure the breakfast gets off to a good start.”
Tricia poured the coffee for Michele. “Would you take this to Michele and I’ll go ask Eleanor if we can get some more napkins.”
“Sure thing.”
Tricia headed for the lobby and the reception desk. As anticipated, Eleanor had already relieved the night clerk and was working on the billing for those who were checking out that day. Tricia had seen the same paperwork when she’d stayed at the inn several years before.
“Hello, Eleanor.”
“Good morning, Tricia,” said a smiling Eleanor. “All ready to cast your ballot for Chamber president?”
“Am I. I’m absolutely sick of hearing about it from Angelica. By the way, did you get one of her rulers?”
Eleanor laughed and held up two of them. She set them back on her desk and grabbed a pen from the chipped Brookview Inn coffee mug. In among the pens, pencils, nail files, and scissors, was the brass letter opener with the heart on top. The instrument that had killed Stan Berry. Tricia frowned. She didn’t remember Baker saying it had been returned.
Eleanor’s gaze shifted to the mug. “I see you’re looking at my letter opener. I had two of them. They’re almost exactly the same.” She plucked it from the rest of the office paraphernalia.
“Take a look. There’s a flaw on one side of the heart. It probably happened when the piece was cast.” She handed the letter opener to Tricia. It was solid brass and quite heavy. The edges were blunt. Whoever thrust it into Stan Berry’s chest had to have muscles of steel. Holding the opener made a shiver go down Tricia’s spine. She handed it back to Eleanor.
“Was there something you needed?” Eleanor asked.
“Oh, yes. I almost forgot. We’ve run out of paper napkins in the dining room and I didn’t know who to report it to.”
“We’ll take care of that. Do you want to follow me to the stockroom?”
“Sure.”
Eleanor scooted around her desk and headed down the corridor to a door with a sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. She dipped into the pocket of her slacks and came up with a key ring. Selecting the proper one, she unlocked the door to a supply room. She had to heft a number of large cartons before she came up with one that held napkins.
“Can I help you with that?” Tricia asked.
“I can manage. I’m used to it. And Chauncey and I have been doing weight training to build our stamina. But if you could hold the door open for me, I’d appreciate it.”
Tricia couldn’t help but worry as Eleanor trundled down the corridor, hanging on to the large, heavy carton. She marched straight into the dining room, set the box on the floor, and using one of her keys, cut the tape that sealed it. She withdrew a wad of white paper napkins, fanning them out on the table, and then pushed the box under it, making sure the tablecloth concealed it from view.
“I’ll let Mr. Barbero know they’re under the table. He’ll see to it that they’re stowed in the proper place.”
“Thanks, Eleanor.” Tricia turned back to the napkins, taking four or five to share with her tablemates, while Eleanor ducked into the kitchen. Tricia took her seat and passed out the napkins. The dining room had filled up during her absence. “Looks like just about everyone is here.”
Angelica had returned to her seat, looking worried. “That’s either a very good thing or a very bad thing, depending on how the vote goes.”
Eleanor exited the kitchen, holding a tall glass of milk. She gave Tricia a faint smile and paused to let Bob enter the dining room. Betsy Dittmeyer, the Chamber receptionist, brought up the rear.
“What’s Betsy doing here?” Ginny asked.
“I believe she’s going to tally the votes,” Angelica said.
“She’s definitely in Bob’s court. Someone else should verify the votes,” Ginny said.
“How about you?” Tricia asked.
“Brilliant idea,” Michele agreed.
“Do I have to nominate myself or something?” Ginny asked.
“I’ll do it,” Michele said. “If Tricia suggests it, it might look like collusion.”
“Agreed,” Angelica said.
Bob stood at the podium and consulted his watch. According to the clock on the wall, the time was 7:58—two minutes until he called the meeting to order. Betsy handed him a briefcase and Bob withdrew a gavel. For the first time since Tricia had met him, Bob looked disconcerted. Had it finally sunk in that he might lose the election, or was he worried he was about to be arrested for petty vandalism?
Betsy had shucked her parka and stowed her purse under the table. In one hand she held a small stack of white papers—the ballots—and in the other, pens and pencils. She moved from table to table passing out the ballots and making sure everyone had something to write with.
A few last stragglers entered the dining room, heading first to the table with the coffee and pastries before taking a seat at one of the dining room tables.
Tricia found herself getting antsy. What if Angelica won? Would she be so busy she’d have no time for Tricia? Would she work herself to the point of exhaustion or thrive on a yearlong adrenaline high?
Lips pursed in disapproval, Betsy arrived at their table, handing each of them a ballot. Ginny smiled sweetly and said, “Thank you, Betsy,” but like her sister, Joelle, Betsy stuck her nose in the air and moved on. By the time she’d visited every table, it was 8:02. She closed the French doors to the dining room and marched to the front of the room to take her seat.
Bob banged the gavel on the lectern. “I will now bring this special meeting of the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce to order. Our only piece of business today is the election of president of the organization.”
Michele stood. “I propose we have a second person count the votes to insure that no mistakes are made. I nominate Ginny Wilson for the job.”
Betsy turned angry eyes on her. Apparently she did not care to have her count challenged.
“I’ll second that,” Antonio said from the side of the room. Tricia hadn’t
seen him enter the room. Perhaps he’d come in through the kitchen entrance.
“All those in favor?” Bob called gravely. Just about everyone in the room raised his or her hand. “Those opposed?” No one objected. Bob smacked the gavel once more. “So moved. Does everyone have a ballot?”
Tricia looked around the room and saw members with their pens and pencils already marking the ballots.
“Please vote now,” Bob said. “And when you’ve finished, bring your ballots to the front of the room and place them in the ballot box that Betsy has provided.”
The ballot box was nothing grander than a large shoe box that read REEBOK on the side.
Tricia marked her ballot, folded the slip of paper, and stood, following the crowd making their way to the front of the room. Beneath her makeup, Angelica had gone absolutely white, and her hand shook as she stuffed her ballot into the box. Ginny did likewise but stood to one side. Tricia and Michele cast their ballots and returned to their table. In less than three minutes, everyone had voted.
Bob was the last to cast his vote. He returned to the lectern and banged his gavel once more. “Betsy, would you please count the votes?”
Betsy lifted the box lid and removed the slips of paper, unfolding them and sorting them into two piles. The Brookview Inn’s dining room was absolutely silent as Betsy unfolded each piece of paper, carefully checked it over, and placed it either in a pile to her right or left.
Tricia glanced at her sister. Angelica sat straight and tall in her chair, but the hands on her lap kept twisting, while her gaze remained riveted on Betsy. “Come on,” she grated under her breath.
Tricia found herself biting her lip as the feeling of anticipation in the room seemed to intensify to an almost unbearable level.
Tricia turned her gaze back to Bob, whose expression was grave. Until that morning he’d seemed confident that he would once again win the election. Everything about him seemed to say loser. His Kelly Realty green jacket seemed a little shabby, and she noted he needed a haircut, too. He’d looked a lot sharper when Angelica was advising him. Since their split, it almost looked like he’d fallen on hard times.
Not the Killing Type Page 23
