A Fatal Chapter (21 page)

No doubt
about it, Polly Burgess did not like Tricia and didn’t keep it a secret. As far as Tricia could remember, she had done nothing to alienate the older woman, who acted as receptionist and dispatcher for the Stoneham Police Department. Polly was especially protective of Chief Baker’s time and seemed to consider all of Tricia’s visits to be frivolous, even when she had no clue as to the nature of the call. Was Polly angry because she thought that Tricia had broken Baker’s heart? Tricia couldn’t think of any other reason for the woman’s animosity, however mistaken.

As usual, she told Tricia to sit and wait in the small, seedy waiting room, but Tricia didn’t have time for Polly’s antics that morning. Instead, Tricia pulled out her cell phone and called Baker’s personal number.

“Baker here.”

“Tricia here. I’m standing in your waiting room.”

“Why didn’t you come right in?”

“Your gatekeeper,” she said simply.

She heard a click, and a few seconds later the door to the inner sanctum opened. “Come on in,” he called.

Tricia didn’t say a word as she exited the waiting room, but she could feel Polly’s angry glare on her back as she sailed through the doorway.

Baker resumed his seat, and Tricia shut the door before taking one of his guest chairs.

“You’ve been snooping around again,” he said with an edge to his voice.

“I wouldn’t call it that. I was talking to Michele Fowler this morning.”

“I got a full report about what happened last night. Is she okay?”

“A little shaken up, but she’ll bounce back. She believes she was attacked because of the attention the ghost walks will bring to the Stoneham Rural Cemetery.”

“She’s not the only one,” Baker muttered, “but so far we haven’t got a tangible connection.”

“I may have the answer in this envelope.”

He held out his hand and she passed it to him. “Why don’t you tell me your theory.”

Tricia sighed. At least he hadn’t called it a
harebrained
theory. While she spoke, he examined the papers. When she stopped talking, he stared at the papers spread out before him on his desk and frowned.

“So, what do you think?” Tricia asked, fearing he was about to blow off her suggestion to look into the situation.

“Didn’t I ask you not to keep poking around in this situation?”

“You did ask me to tell you my theory,” she reminded him.

“If what you’re proposing is true, you’ve not only put yourself in danger, but Karen Johnson, too.”

“Nobody knows what we talked about.”

“But someone might make an educated guess.”

“I guess that means you think my theory is credible.”

He shrugged. He had no intention of agreeing with her.

“Will you at least check into it?” she pressed.

“On Monday, I’ll talk to someone at the county clerk’s office to see if there’s anything about a cemetery on the deed.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“We’d have to see if we can find other records that support the existence of the cemetery.”

“And they’d be at the Historical Society. With Pete dead and Janet out of commission for the foreseeable future, I’m not sure there’s anyone there who could help you with that.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time.”

“It could take days, maybe weeks, before you could come up with additional proof. What if the sale of the land goes through before you can prove anything?”

“The wheels of justice don’t always turn quickly,” Baker said. His indifference was beginning to bug her. How could he still wonder why they hadn’t made it as a couple? “In the meantime, I’m taking custody of these pages.”

“You can’t have them. I promised I’d return them to the Historical Society today.”

“I’ll call and explain the situation,” Baker said. “In the meantime, I don’t want you to talk about this—not even to Angelica.”

“Why?”

“Because the fewer people who know about it, the better—for everyone’s safety.”

“Do you know when Bob is supposed to go up before the judge on his past indiscretions?”

“Not offhand, but I can look into it.”

“I hope you will. If he is responsible for murder and attempted murder, we need to get him behind bars as soon as possible.”

“Tricia, what you’ve given me might prove fraud, but that’s a long way from pinning a murder charge on the man.”

Tricia shook her head in frustration. “I can’t help but feel an urgency about this. I’m afraid of the man, and he’s been hounding me to buy his building. What do I do in the meantime?”

“You could file for a restraining order.”

“Sure, and how many women have died at the hands of the men that have been served those papers? Far,
far
too many.” She stood. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Sarcasm, Tricia? It doesn’t suit you.”

“Your lack of enthusiasm to track down a killer doesn’t suit your job description, either.” She headed for the door but paused, turning back to face Baker once more. “By the way, Boris Koslov set a camera up to try to catch the person stealing the flowers. Unfortunately, you can’t tell from the video who it was. He was wearing a hoodie, but I did dig up two eyewitnesses who identified the man. I confronted him,” she said defiantly. “Well, I and your Officer Hanson, and he’s going to apologize and help restore the silk flowers to the baskets. No other law enforcement intervention is necessary. I thought you should know—not that you care.”

Without another word, she turned and left his office without looking back.

Polly’s sharp gaze seemed to rake through Tricia as she left the building. Tricia hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Baker she was afraid
of Bob. His aggression had been building to a higher pitch each time he’d confronted her, and it was becoming more difficult to avoid him.

•   •   •

Tricia returned
to the Chamber office, then went upstairs to shower and change clothes. Twenty minutes later, she was back at her desk.

“I took a message for you,” Mariana said, handing her a Post-it note as she passed. “You’re insurance agent called.”

“Is it good news?” she asked hopefully.

“He didn’t say, just that you should call him.”

Tricia sat down and found her hands were trembling as she punched in the number on her desk phone. It rang twice before being picked up.

“John Martin.”

“John, it’s Tricia Miles. Do you always work on Saturday?”

“Just tidying up a few things.”

“Please tell me that
this
time you have good news for me.”

“I do, and I didn’t want you to have to wait until Monday to hear that you’ve been approved for the entire amount of your claim. The check will be in the mail Monday morning.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“When can I start repairs on my home—my shop?”

“Anytime you want.”

“I want, I want—
believe me
—I want!” she cried, suddenly finding herself choking up.

“I assume you’ve been talking to a contractor.”

“I spoke to him just this morning.”

“Good. We can recommend specialized professionals to refurbish your apartment and clean the smoke damage.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to research the subject and have a load of
tradespeople all lined up. They’ve just been waiting for the okay to start work.”

“Good. Of course you know you can call me for anything.”

“You’ve been an angel, John. Thank you so much.”

“Do I get an invitation to the grand reopening?”

“You’ll be at the top of the list.”

“Take care,” he said, and they said good-bye.

“Sounds like good news,” Mariana said.

“The best. I’ll soon be going home.” She laughed. “Well, as soon as all the damage is repaired and I replace nearly everything I own.” Suddenly the task seemed daunting.

Tricia spent the next half hour making lists of things to do. She had a lot of plans to make before she could even begin to get her life back.

Looking over her list brought her great satisfaction, and she suddenly wanted to share her good news. Angelica was working at Booked for Lunch. Although it was half an hour earlier than Tricia usually went out for her midday meal, she decided to buck her rut and go early.

“I’m going to lunch,” she said, and stood.

Mariana smiled. “You ought to celebrate at the Brookview Inn’s dining room. At least you could get an adult beverage there.”

“It’ll have to wait until later, I’m afraid. But somewhere out there is a martini with my name on it.”

“In the meantime, why not splurge with a cupcake?”

“I just might,” Tricia said, and headed for the door. The way she felt, nothing could spoil her good mood. Nothing in the world.

By the
time Tricia arrived at Booked for Lunch, the midday crowd had thinned. Instead of being jammed with tourists, she saw a number of her friends. She waved to Russ and Nikki, who were seated in the far booth. Ginny sat alone in the one closest to the front window, kept company by her e-reader. She looked up briefly, saw Tricia, and waved, then went back to her book. Meanwhile Pixie, dressed in a vintage white waitress uniform with
Woolworth
embroidered in green above the pocket, bobbed around bussing tables.

“I’m going to be late getting to the Chamber,” she apologized while loaded down with ketchup-and-mustard-stained plates. “Tommy had to leave early, so I’ll be finishing up in the kitchen for him.”

“Pixie, it’s Saturday—your day off from the Chamber.”

Pixie laughed. “Good grief. I completely forgot.”

“Besides, if you were late, you’ve got a very understanding boss. Isn’t that right, Angelica?”

Angelica stood behind the counter with a calculator in hand; a pencil stuck out from behind her right ear. “Uh-huh,” she muttered, although Tricia doubted her sister had even heard what she’d said.

“Thanks for driving Michele into the village this morning, Pixie.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. It’s always nice to talk to somebody different.”

“Did you get your tattoo?” Tricia asked.

“Oh, yeah. Right now, it itches like hell. I shouldn’t have worn this polyester dress. I feel like there’s ants crawling all over my chest.”

Oh, so
that’s
where she’d gotten it.

“If you want to hang around after everybody leaves, I’ll show it to you.”

“Great,” Tricia said, though she wasn’t all that excited to witness the presentation.

“Excuse me; the kitchen calls,” Pixie said, and hefted a full tray.

Tricia took her usual seat at the counter and waited for her customary tuna plate to materialize. After about a minute and no attention from Angelica, she got up and poured herself a cup of coffee, nudged past Angelica, and got her own lunch. She’d already sat down and removed the plastic wrap before Angelica seemed to realize she was even there.

“Oh. When did you get here?”

“About five minutes ago. What’s got you so preoccupied?”

“I’m trying to decide if I should change my standing bread order. But it doesn’t matter right this minute. Can I get you—oh, you already have coffee. Well, I think I’ll join you.” She grabbed a cup from the shelf and poured herself one.

“I came by early to share my good news.” Tricia laughed. “Actually several pieces of good news.”

The bell over the door jangled, and Tricia turned to see Christopher enter.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he called as she crossed the floor to join Tricia at the counter.

Tricia sighed. Was he ever going to stop bothering her? “Hello.”

“Have you got anything good left to eat?” he asked Angelica.

“The grill is closed, but we’ve still got the soup-and-sandwich special: potato and leek, and egg salad.”

“Sounds great. On rye?” he asked.

“Coming right up,” Angelica said, put down her cup, and headed for the kitchen.

So much for Tricia’s good news. She took a bite of tuna.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Christopher said, and smiled.

“I come here almost every day.”

“Yes, but today you’re early.”

Did he keep an eye out for her twenty-four/seven?

Angelica returned with a cup of soup, a spoon, and a couple of packets of crackers, setting them in front of Christopher. “Your sandwich will be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Angelica turned to Tricia. “Now, what were you saying about good news?”

“I heard from the insurance company. The check is being cut, and I can start repairing my store.”

Angelica beamed. “That
is
good news. Congratulations.”

“Congratulations, Trish. It’ll be good to have you living closer—in case you ever need me,” Christopher said.

Tricia said nothing and turned back to her sister. “The other good piece of news is that I found your petal pincher.”

Angelica’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but she quickly recovered, and again beamed. “Who? Who is it?”

Tricia looked right and left before beckoning Angelica closer. “Earl Winkler,” she whispered.

Again Angelica’s mouth dropped, but this time she didn’t smile. “Why, that dirty rat!”

“Funny it should be the rat catcher,” Tricia agreed, and used her fork to rearrange the lettuce on her plate. “I’ll tell you the whole story when there isn’t a crowd listening in,” she said with a quick glance at her ex-husband, “but suffice to say, rather than face the humiliation of public knowledge of his indiscretion, he’s willing to apologize and help restore the silk flowers.”

“Big of him,” Angelica said tartly.

“Since the plants themselves weren’t destroyed, that’s about the best you’re going to get.”

Angelica scowled. “I’ll accept his apology, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy on him.”

Tricia didn’t envy the time Earl would have to spend with Angelica to get the job done.

A bell sounded from the kitchen. “That’s your sandwich, Christopher. I’ll be right back with it.” Angelica headed for the kitchen.

Tricia turned her attention back to her lunch.

The door to the street opened, the little bell jangling as Bob Kelly burst in. His face was flushed, and his eyes were red-rimmed. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He took in the rest of the customers before he reached for the OPEN sign and turned it to CLOSED, then stamped across the tile floor to stand behind Tricia.

“You had to go nosing around, didn’t you?”

Tricia’s stomach tightened as she swiveled her stool to face him. “Are you speaking to me?”

“Who else?” Bob demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you leave the pub earlier with a big brown envelope. What was inside it?”

Tricia’s heart skipped a beat. Two people were now watching her every move. “That’s none of your business.”

“I saw you go to NRA Realty,” Bob continued.

Oh, no.

“You know about the cemetery.”

Tricia swallowed but said nothing.

“If anyone else finds out, the sale won’t go through.”

“What’s he talking about?” Christopher asked.

Tricia ignored his question and spoke to Bob. “Did you also watch me go to the police station?”

Bob nodded, his expression grave. He unbuttoned his green sports jacket and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver from the waistband of his pants.

“Bob!” Tricia squealed.

“Hey,” Christopher protested.

“Get up!” Bob ordered Tricia, waving the gun.

“Bob, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” came Angelica’s voice as she pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, holding the plate with Christopher’s sandwich.

“Oh my God,” Ginny called, sounding frightened.

“Everybody, on your feet,” Bob ordered, again waving the gun around for emphasis.

“What are you going to do? Rob the place?” Christopher asked as he rose from his stool, his hands raised.

“Take whatever you want from the till and go,” Angelica said.

Bob shook his head, his smile wolfish. “Oh, no. That would be too easy.”

“Well, what do you want?” Angelica demanded.

“You. I want you.”

“Don’t you mean me?” Tricia said. “After all, it’s me you want to buy your building.”

Bob shook his head. “It’s too late for that now.”

“Be reasonable, Bob,” Russ said as he stood protectively in front of Nikki. Thanks to her burgeoning belly, it was going to take some time to extricate her from the tight booth, and it didn’t look like Russ had any intention of doing that.

“I’ll go along with whatever you say, Bob, just leave everyone else alone,” Tricia said, hoping to spare her friends, but Bob shook his head.

“Oh, no. I’m not leaving any witnesses.”

Tricia’s mouth went dry. She took a breath. “You haven’t got enough bullets in that gun to take us all out.”

“Oh, yeah? How would you know?”

“Because I read mysteries, and I know a gun like that only holds six bullets,” Tricia said. And she hoped to heaven he was bluffing about it even being loaded.

“I only see six people,” Bob said, his voice level.

Stay in the kitchen, Pixie
, Tricia thought.

Bob motioned for Angelica to step forward, but before she could, Christopher lunged in front of her and the gun exploded.

Christopher shoved Bob backward, and Ginny cracked him over
the head with one of the café’s heavy china plates, the remnants of her lunch flying into the air. Bob fell and the gun exploded again.

Tricia jumped forward as the two men hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Christopher!” she hollered, but instead of going to him, she saw that, although Bob was groggy, he still held the gun in his hand. She kicked it several times until he let go, and it skittered across the tile. Bob groaned, but Christopher hadn’t moved.

Suddenly, the room seemed to be teeming with people. Angelica and Russ hauled Christopher’s dead weight off Bob. They rolled him over onto his back, and his chest, awash in scarlet, heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Russ turned his attention to Bob as Ginny did a fast waddle around them heading for the lunch counter, while in the background Tricia could hear Nikki shouting into her cell phone.

“Christopher!” Tricia practically screamed as she fell on her knees beside him, grabbing his left hand in her own.

Angelica was on her feet again, helping Russ shove a dazed Bob onto the seat Ginny had vacated only seconds before. “Sit on him. Don’t let him up!” Russ ordered, and Angelica practically jumped onto Bob’s back. Russ handed her the plate that Ginny had hit Bob with. “Use this again if you have to.”

She nodded, looking pale and scared.

Tricia turned her attention back to Christopher. His eyes fluttered open and he grimaced in pain. “Don’t move,” she told him, feeling more frightened than when she’d faced the fire in her shop and had desperately tried to save Miss Marple.

“Nobody . . . nobody ever warned me how much . . . how much it hurts to get shot.”

“Don’t talk,” Tricia said, and placed the index finger of her free hand across his dry lips.

Russ took the wad of clean dishrags Ginny handed him and pressed them against the seeping wound on Christopher’s chest. “Did anyone see what happened to Pixie?”

“She went out the back to get help,” Angelica said.

Christopher’s hand tightened around Tricia’s, and he stared into her eyes. She had always loved his mesmerizing green eyes. “I want you to promise me something,” he said, his speech breathy.

“Anything, anything at all,” Tricia said.

“That after this is all over you’ll marry me again.”

“You’re not going to die,” Tricia said, hoping with all her heart that she was right.

“I know it . . . that’s why I want you to promise me. If you do, then I know I’ll be okay, because I already told you . . . we are destined to be together for all time.”

Tricia shot a look over her shoulder at Angelica, who was nodding vigorously. She looked back down at Christopher, who was deathly pale.

“Y-yes. Of course, anything you say.” The wad of dishrags beneath Russ’s fingers was sodden.

Christopher closed his eyes and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Good . . . good. You can . . . go back . . . to . . . wearing . . . your . . . engagement . . . ring.”

Tricia looked down at their clasped hands. Christopher was wearing his wedding band once again.

“Oh my God,” Ginny cried, “my water just broke.” She stumbled backward and sat down on one of the stools.

Nikki was still on the phone but no longer shouting. “Yes, he’s subdued. Please, please hurry!”

The café door burst open, and two of Stoneham’s finest darted inside, their service revolvers drawn. “Nobody move!” Hanson shouted.

“Put those things away,” Angelica ordered. “I’m sitting on the jerk you want.” She struggled to her feet. “Get him out of here!”

They hauled a dazed Bob out of the booth and hustled him out the door. Chief Baker suddenly appeared.

“Get the paramedics,” Tricia implored, and Baker pivoted, talking into the microphone attached to his uniform blouse.

“Tricia, he’s not breathing,” Russ said gently.

“We’ve got to do CPR,” Tricia cried.

“Tricia, he’s gone,” Russ said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tricia started down at Christopher, choking back a sob.

Suddenly Angelica was there at Tricia’s side. “You can let go now,” she said gently.

Tricia stared at her, not comprehending.

Angelica stared down at Tricia’s hands tightly clasping Christopher’s. Tricia’s gaze followed. Wonderful memories from years gone by suddenly bubbled up. Their first date. The first time they made love. Their wedding day. At that moment, she couldn’t even remember why they had ever parted. All she remembered was the love.

Angelica placed a hand on Tricia’s. “Let go,” she said again.

Silent tears trickled down Tricia’s cheeks, but she allowed Angelica to disentangle her fingers from Christopher’s and pull her onto her feet.