Murder on the Half Shelf (26 page)

“It’s
me
he chose, not you. I think you should just back off.”

“I assure you we didn’t talk about anything personal,” Tricia said, finding it hard to believe Nikki could possibly be jealous of her recent conversation with Russ.

“Stay away from my man,” Nikki said bluntly.

“Believe me, I have no romantic interest in Russ. Remember,
he
dumped
me
.”

“He still talks about you—way too much.”

“I can’t help what he says,” Tricia replied, feeling defensive. “I only went to his office to ask him what he knew about Pippa Comfort’s murder.”

“Why is it whenever somebody dies here in Stoneham, you’re always involved? You really are the village jinx.”

Not
that
again!

“Nikki, how can you say such hurtful things? We’re friends.”

“Not anymore. I’m sorry, Tricia, but I really don’t want you to patronize my store.”

“But Mr. Everett loves your cookies. All my customers do.”

“Then if you wish to continue to offer my products, you can send Mr. Everett in to get them.”

“Nikki—” Tricia began, feeling incredibly hurt.

“It goes without saying that I will no longer be a member of the Tuesday Night Book Club. And you are definitely
not
invited to our wedding.”

Tricia felt hot tears fill her eyes. What had Russ told Nikki after their brief meeting the day before? Had he boasted to her that Tricia still needed him for information? Had the louse lied and said that she’d made a play for him? The doors to his office had been open. Patty Perkins had probably heard their entire conversation and could vouch that nothing untoward had gone on between them. But somehow Tricia doubted that Nikki would believe her—or Patty.

There were other, deeper ties that Tricia had believed bound her and Nikki together as friends. Had Nikki decided that was worth nothing, too?

Tricia’s lower lip trembled, but somehow she managed to speak. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Nikki. I’ve tried to be a good friend to you. How could you even think I’d betray…”

“Please leave,” Nikki said, her face rigid with disdain.

Tricia’s fingers clenched the bakery box and her throat constricted. It was just as well; she couldn’t think of anything to say to sway Nikki’s resolve.

She turned and left the Patisserie, perhaps for the very last time.

TWENTY-ONE

“So,
did
you hit on Russ?” Angelica asked, looking at Tricia over the top of her sunglasses. Despite the fact they were inside Booked for Lunch, sitting in the back booth, Angelica insisted on wearing the glasses and a headscarf. She said she wanted to keep a low profile.

“Of course not,” Tricia answered, and poked at the lettuce on her tuna plate. “You know I’m involved with Grant. Well, sort of. After he figures out who killed Pippa Comfort, we’ll be back together again,” she said confidently.

“Are you sure you
want
him back?” Angelica asked. “After all, he considers you a suspect in Pippa’s death.”

“It was me who found her,” Tricia said reasonably. “Well, Sarge and me. And I did have a relationship with Harry—albeit twenty years before. Of course he has to officially consider me a suspect.” She pushed the plate away. After her altercation with Nikki, she didn’t have much of an appetite.

Angelica shook her head sadly. “How long have you two been chums? Eighteen months and he still doesn’t know you well enough to realize you could never hurt—let alone kill—someone?”

Tricia’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of the situation in quite those terms.

Angelica sighed. “What is it about us that we accept bad behavior from men and excuse them for it?”

“Not all men are rats. Daddy never cheated on Mother.”

“That we know of,” Angelica countered.

“Mr. Everett would never cheat on Grace.”

“No, but he’d prefer to find her at home making him a casserole instead of managing the charity they set up with his lottery winnings.”

“He’s just worried she’ll overdo it. He’s also from a generation where the man went to work and the woman kept the home fires burning.”

“Nonsense,” Angelica said. “Women have always worked. It’s just that they were ashamed to admit the family might need money—that one salary wasn’t cutting it back in the good old June Cleaver days.”

“Grace never had to work, but I think she’s enjoying it now.”

“Hey, is that you, Angelica?” a mocking voice called out. “Gonna burn down any buildings today? The fire exit is over here, folks!”

Everybody in the café had turned to look at the man dressed in overalls, a plaid shirt, a brown Carhartt jacket, and tall black rubber boots. Then their gazes followed his to lock on Angelica. She turned in her seat to glare at the fool. “I will not dignify that question, Sully. And if you’re not careful, I will never bring my car to your service station for an oil change ever again—and you will
not
get free seconds on the coffee the next time you come in.”

The idiot actually looked hurt. “Aw, I was just joking. Everybody could see it wasn’t your fault the TV station burned
to the ground. But boy, the expression on your face.” And he laughed.

Big mistake.

Without another word, Angelica pointed to the door, shooting daggers at the guy. He realized his gaffe and seemed to shrink under her unforgiving stare. Meek as a mouse, he shuffled toward the door.

Everybody else in the café found somewhere else to look.

Angelica turned back to Tricia. “Now, where were we?”

Tricia leaned in and whispered. “I can see now why you’re wearing the sunglasses. Have you been getting this kind of treatment all day?”

Angelica nodded, stirring her by-now cold soup with a spoon. “E-mails, phone calls, catcalls on the street. You name it. I’m the brunt of everyone’s jokes. I’ve even heard that your being a jinx has rubbed off on me.”

Tricia cringed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t take that seriously.”

Tricia didn’t want to pursue that subject. “How did the conversation go with your agent?”

Angelica shrugged. “He was more interested in Harry Tyler than talking about my problems.”

“I thought you weren’t going to mention Harry.”

“
I
didn’t.
He
did. Haven’t you been reading the
Nashua Telegraph
? It’s a big deal that your ex-boyfriend has surfaced.”

“I must’ve missed the three-inch headline announcing it.”

“Anyway, Artie asked me for Harry’s number. I didn’t know if you wanted to tell him yourself or if I should just give him a call and give him the number.”

Tricia thought it over. She didn’t particularly want to speak to Pippa’s husband again, but she had a few nagging questions in the back of her mind. “Sure, I’ll give him the message.”

“Fine. I’ll give you Artie’s number before you go back to work.”

“I’m puzzled about something,” Tricia said. Angelica lifted
her head enough to look over the top of her shades. “I was looking out my bedroom window last night, watching Grant take off in his SUV—”

“Pining for him, were you?” Angelica asked.

“No. But I must have been lost in thought because I was staring out the window when…I swear I saw Harry walking north on Main Street.”

“Where did he come from?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. He wasn’t there—and then he was.”

“He’s not a ghost. He can’t just appear and then disappear into thin air.”

“I thought it was strange he was walking the streets of Stoneham so late.”

“Well, Chauncey was walking late. Maybe Harry was trying to get in some exercise, too.”

“He hardly needs it. He’s got abs like a washboard.”

Angelica pulled her sunglasses off. “And
when
did you see those?” She waggled her eyebrows knowingly.

“Under his shirt. He came to visit me on Monday. And get your mind out of the gutter, please. If you’d been more observant, you would’ve noticed, too.”

“When? I’ve never met the man.”

“You almost did—the night of the murder. I saw him for a brief second before he pulled his vanishing act.” Angelica shrugged. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about that night. We must’ve seen something.”

“What?” Angelica asked.

Tricia shook her head. “Something so insignificant that it meant nothing to us.”

Angelica sighed. “We were inside the front door for all of two minutes before we went up to the suite, and then you and Sarge were only there a couple of minutes before you took him out and found Pippa’s body.”

“That’s true,” Tricia said.

“We didn’t even run into any of the guests.”

“I did.”

Angelica frowned. “When?”

“When Sarge and I went down the back stairs to the kitchen. I saw Mary Fairchild on the landing.”

“What was she doing?”

Tricia thought about it. “Nothing. She was just standing there, holding a couple of glasses of sherry, when I rounded the stairs.”

“Do you think that’s significant?”

Tricia shrugged. “Maybe. But probably not. I mean—this is Mary we’re talking about.”

“I barely know her,” Angelica admitted. “We’ve only spoken a few times at the Chamber of Commerce breakfast meetings.”

“She’s been a member of the Tuesday Night Book Club for a few months now. And now that Nikki isn’t going to be there, we need all the warm bodies we can get. And speaking of Nikki once again, what am I going to do about the cookies?”

“What cookies?”

“The ones I serve in my store. I’ve always bought them from the Patisserie. Nikki said she might allow someone else to buy them—presumably Mr. Everett or Linda—but what if she changes her mind? My customers love them, and so does Mr. Everett.”

“You
could
learn to bake.”

“So far my baking escapades haven’t been all that successful,” Tricia reminded her.

“That’s because you haven’t really tried. I have a wonderful recipe in my upcoming cookbook and I’m willing to walk you though making it.”

Tricia nodded, resigned. “And this time I’ll try to take the lesson more seriously. Baking’s not difficult—”

“If you can follow simple directions, anyone can bake or cook,” Angelica said for about the millionth time.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tricia glanced at her watch.

Tricia saw movement outside the big display window outside. Grant Baker stood there, peering in. He saw her, gave a wave, and moved on down the street—presumably for the Bookshelf Diner.

“You just lost a customer.”

“You mean Sully?” She shook her head. “He’ll be back. I have to berate him for something at least twice a week. I think he enjoys it.”

“No, Grant Baker was just outside. When he saw me, he waved and headed north down the street.”

“Oh crap! I just started to get the locals in here, and now you’re chasing them away.”

“Just Grant—so far no one else,” Tricia said tartly.

“Sorry,” Angelica said sincerely. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

Tricia nodded. “But as long as he suspects I might have had something to do with Pippa Comfort’s death…”

“Then do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“You’ve never been shy before when it came to asking questions about a murder here in Stoneham. Go forth and confront your suspects.”

“That could get me killed.”

“Only if you’re in the proximity of a large, heavy brass candleholder.”

“I’ve already spoken with Harry and Chauncey.”

“Then go talk to Clayton Ellington.”

“Under what pretext?”

“I suppose pure nosiness isn’t a good excuse.”

“No.”

The two women were quiet for a few minutes, neither of them touching their lunches while the café bustled around them once again. Finally, Angelica spoke. “You know, you could ask Ellington how he managed to win the raffle for the
free night at the inn when he wasn’t even at the last Chamber meeting.”

“He wasn’t?”

Angelica shook her head. “In fact, I don’t know as I’ve
ever
seen him attend a Chamber meeting, and I haven’t missed one in the past six months. You ought to make more of an effort to go—then you wouldn’t have to keep asking me and everyone else what went on and who dished what dirt.”

“So what happens with these raffles?” Tricia asked, ignoring the dig.

“Everyone present puts a business card in a fishbowl and then Bob pulls out however many to give away the prizes. If you’re not there, you can’t win. But Ellington
did
win.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“I hadn’t given it any thought
until
now.”

“Do you think Bob rigged the drawing?”

“Of course. Why else was everyone so surprised when I showed up at the inn with you and not Bob? He made it rather obvious that he expected to rekindle our long-dead relationship that night. As if!”

“Then what about the other winners? Do you suppose they had a reason to be at the inn, too?”

Angelica shook her head. “What motive could Chauncey or Mary have to be there?”

“Chauncey once had the hots for Pippa. He said he used to tip her well when she was a Playboy bunny. Maybe he hoped she’d remember him and…well…reciprocate in kind.”