Murder On The Half Shelf

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.”

“The way he looks now? I’ll bet he wasn’t attractive on his best day ever. Besides, Pippa was married-”

“Unhappily so, according to Harry,” Tricia countered.

“And she pitched a fit when Chauncey made a crack about her less-than-sexy attire,” Angelica finished.

“Yes, but let’s say he had unreasonable expectations. The fact that she got angry with him, and in front of a witness-it could have driven him to kill the thing he loved most.”

“I suppose. And what reason could Mary have had to kill Pippa?”

“I have no idea. But she does seem overly interested in the whole situation.”

“The same could be said of you. At first glance, it would appear you’ve got a reason to see the woman dead. Can you prove you haven’t seen Harry in twenty years?”

“Probably not-but they can’t prove I did, either.”

Angelica took off her sunglasses. “Then that leaves one more suspect-Clayton Ellington. Go talk to him and find out what dirty tricks he’s playing.”

“Who says he’s playing any dirty tricks? For all we know Bob could be behind this.”

“You could be right. But to get to Bob you’ll have to talk to Ellington first,” Angelica declared.

Tricia nodded. “Did anything seem out of the ordinary when Bob announced the winners?”

“Not that I remember. It was a pretty standard meeting. Eggs, bacon, croissants, and jam. Bob went around the room and collected everyone’s business cards for the drawing, and while the waitresses were busing the tables, he pulled the four winners. He pulled my name last. It was a huge surprise.”

I’ll bet.

Tricia wasn’t eager to embrace the idea. Instead, she glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. Mr. Everett will be arriving at Haven’t Got a Clue any moment now. I’d better scoot.” She grabbed her coat from the seat beside her and got up. “Will you have time in the next few days to walk me through that cookie recipe?”

“I’ll have plenty of time-especially if I’m still in hiding,” Angelica said, and slipped her sunglasses back on.

Tricia wrestled into the sleeves of her coat. “See you later, then.” She headed for the door.

She wasn’t sure what bothered her more-trying to find an excuse to see Ellington, or having to go to the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort to track him down.

“Please, Ms. Miles, don’t make a fuss. I assure you I’m all right,” Mr. Everett said, sounding a little frustrated after Tricia not only made him take a seat at the readers’ nook but brought him several of the thumbprint cookies and a cup of coffee, placing them on the big square coffee table.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, “but please let me spoil you for at least a couple of minutes.”

Mr. Everett’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Oh, very well.”

Miss Marple seemed equally pleased to have Mr. Everett back and jumped on his lap, purring loudly and nuzzling his chin. “My dear Miss Marple, I missed you, too,” he said, and petted the cat.

Linda joined them. “I’m so glad you’re back, Mr. Everett. There’s a lot I need to learn about Haven’t Got a Clue, and I’ve enjoyed our talks so far.”

“As have I,” Mr. Everett admitted.

The door rattled and the bell rang, and Grace entered Haven’t Got a Clue with her sheepish-looking receptionist, Pixie, in tow. If Pixie was in costume once again, her long gray raincoat hid it. “Hello, Tricia,” Grace said, and stepped over to the reader’s nook. “And you must be Linda,” she said, offering her hand.

“This is my wife, Grace Harris-Everett,” Mr. Everett said, introducing them.

Linda and Grace shook hands. “So glad to meet you. You’ve got a keeper here,” she said, and nodded toward Mr. Everett, whose pink cheeks went a shade darker.

“I like to think so. But when I think of how close I came to losing him last night…” She let the sentence trail off, and then cleared her throat and glanced at Pixie, who had so far not made eye contact with any of them. “This is my receptionist, Pixie Poe.”

Tricia raised an eyebrow at the last name. Linda and Mr. Everett nodded, since Pixie did not move forward to shake their hands. “I believe Pixie has something to say to you, Tricia.”

Tricia was glad all eyes were now on Pixie instead of her, for like Mr. Everett she felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

“I…I apol-” That was as far as Pixie got before her face crumpled-but not with shame. It was anger that made her eyes suddenly blaze. “No! I will not apologize to this bitch!” she cried, and glared at Grace, whose jaw had dropped open in shock. “She crossed me!” Pixie swiveled her gaze to glower at Tricia. “Because you tattled on me to Mrs. H-E, I got a real dressing-down. You disrespected me and I will not back down. I don’t care if I lose this job, lose my parole, and go back to the joint-I will not apologize to the likes of you.” She paused long enough to take them all in. “In fact, go to hell-all of you!” she shouted, then turned and stormed out of the store.

Miss Marple hissed at her retreating back, and Mr. Everett began to pet the cat at warp speed in hopes of placating her.

Grace stood rooted, her mouth still agape. “I-I don’t know what to say, Tricia. I am so very sorry.”

Tricia didn’t dare speak, so deep was her shock.

Linda stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on both Tricia’s and Grace’s arms. “Why don’t we all have a nice warming cup of coffee and a couple of cookies to make us feel better?”

No one said a word.

Linda guided Grace to one of the nook’s empty chairs. “Please sit. I’ll bring you a cup. How do you like it?”

“Black, please,” Grace murmured, still in shock.

Linda nodded and left the three of them alone.

Grace shook her head. “When I spoke to Pixie, I thought she understood…I tried to make her realize how her treatment of you was inappropriate. I honestly thought she accepted that her behavior was inappropriate. I told her she’d have to apologize to you, and then all would be forgiven-and she agreed to do so.”

“Grace, I know you wanted to help that woman,” Mr. Everett began, “but perhaps her social skills just aren’t adequate for the job.”

That was the truth.

“But if she doesn’t have a job, there’s a good chance she might go back to prison,” Grace cried, her voice filled with despair.

Tricia bit her lip, guilt weighing her down. All she had wanted to do was help Mr. Everett and Grace through a rough patch. That she was the catalyst of all this trouble made her feel terrible, but she honestly didn’t know what she could have done differently.

As though sensing her distress, Grace reached out to touch Tricia’s hand. “It’s not your fault, dear. I’m completely responsible for all of this. If I hadn’t paid more attention to the job than to William, all this could have been avoided. And I so wanted to help the poor woman. I should go and try to find her.” She made to stand, but Mr. Everett reached out to stop her.

“I must put my foot down, dear. Ms. Miles is our friend. We owe her for changing our lives for the better-and even for bringing us together. Your-our-loyalty must be to her, not this lowlife stranger.”

Grace bristled at his description of her former assistant but said nothing.

Linda arrived with a tray filled with cups and a small plate of cookies. “Just what kind of business do you run, Grace?”

“A charitable foundation.”

That sparked Linda’s attention.

“I don’t know how I’ll manage without Pixie. I guess I’ll call Libby Hirt at the Food Shelf and Job Bank to see if she has any other candidates with office experience.”

Linda bit her lip as she passed out the cups of coffee.

Tricia said nothing. She wasn’t about to suggest that Linda apply for the job. She had experience at a nonprofit, but Grace wasn’t looking for a person of Linda’s caliber. She needed someone to answer phones and lick envelopes, which was far below Linda’s skill and qualifications.

And working retail isn’t? a small voice inside Tricia asked.

The four of them sipped their coffee, although Tricia was fairly certain none of them really tasted it. It was only when a customer entered the store that both Linda and Mr. Everett sprang from their chairs-which sent Miss Marple flying to the floor-to see if they could help that the mini pity party broke up. Grace also stood, and Tricia followed.

“I really must be going,” Grace said.

“Yes, and I have an errand to run as well,” Tricia said.

“I’ll see you soon,” Grace said, and reached for Tricia’s hand. “I am sorry about all of this. And even sorrier about Pixie. I had such high hopes for her. She was my first test case-and my first failure. I shall have to reevaluate the validity of the whole Everett Charitable Foundation.”

“Please don’t give it up because of this one incident. You’ve already made an impact for good-I’m sure this is just a temporary setback.”

Grace’s smile was faint. “I’m sure you’re right.” But she didn’t sound convinced. “Good-bye, Tricia.”

Tricia leaned forward and gave Grace a quick kiss on the cheek.

She watched as Grace said good-bye to her husband and Linda. Pixie sure had blown her chance to make amends. Which reminded Tricia of her own dilemma. In order to get back with Grant, she had to clear her name. Angelica was right. Her first step should be to talk to Clayton Ellington.

She headed for the back of the store to retrieve her coat. With both Linda and Mr. Everett to watch over Haven’t Got a Clue, she knew she could leave her store without worrying.

As the door closed behind her, she worried more about what she’d say to Ellington when she arrived at the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort, and wondered if she’d be terribly overdressed.