Текст книги "Book Clubbed"

Автор книги: Lorna Barrett

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Come back anytime,” Margaret said and followed Tricia out onto her stoop.

Tricia went straight back to her car. Since Margaret hadn’t known much about Betsy, it was likely none of the other neighbors would, either. And she knew Margaret would report back to Joelle if she did any further snooping around Betsy’s property. And what else was she looking for that she hadn’t already seen when she’d been inside the house?

Margaret waved as Tricia pulled out of the driveway. As she drove down the street she looked up at her rearview mirror and saw that she was still being watched. Rats. She was sure to hear from Joelle before the day was through.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Tricia’s stomach. Did Joelle, who’d been disinherited, have a compelling motive for murder? And if she had killed her sister . . . was there a possibility she might kill again?

FOURTEEN

Tricia parked her car in its usual spot in the Stoneham municipal parking lot. The wind was still wicked as she cut across the lot to reach the sidewalk. She paused for a moment, looking over at the Stoneham Weekly News. She hadn’t spoken to Russ Smith in several weeks. Perhaps she ought to visit and offer her congratulations on the new arrival and maybe bend his ear about Betsy Dittmeyer’s death. Russ often had information that Tricia wasn’t privy to, although six months before he’d told her that after sharing an important piece of information that she owed him a big favor, and that one day he would collect. It had sounded ominous. She hoped today wouldn’t be the day.

She crossed the street and entered the newspaper’s office. Patty Perkins sat behind a counter staring intently at her computer screen. She looked up and smiled brightly. “Hey, Tricia. I haven’t seen you around here in quite a while.”

“’Tis the season. I feel like I’ve been hibernating in my store. There sure haven’t been many customers since the Christmas rush ended.”

Patty nodded. “Yeah, our display ad revenues are way behind last year at this time. I’m going to have to start calling our regulars and see what we can do about that. But that’s not why you’re here today. Did you want to talk to Russ?”

Tricia looked toward Russ’s closed office door. “If he’s available.”

She grimaced. “He’s going over the accounts. I’m sure he’d welcome any interruption about now. Go right on in.”

“Thanks.”

Tricia stepped around the counter and rapped her knuckles against the hollow-core door. She opened the door a crack and stuck her head inside. “Hi, Russ. Are you terribly busy?”

Russ looked up from his computer screen. “Yeah. But these spreadsheets are depressing the hell out of me. Come on in and sit down—and try to cheer me up, will you?”

Tricia stepped inside the office and closed the door. She tugged off her coat, hanging it on the back of Russ’s guest chair, and took the empty seat in the shabby little office she had come to know so well. She and Russ had once been lovers but that had ended when he’d dumped her, thinking he was going to find a job with a large-circulation paper in bigger city. That hadn’t worked out and he’d tried to get back together with her. When that hadn’t worked, he’d stalked her. That ended when he’d gone for counseling and started dating Nikki. Until she’d spoken to Nikki a few days before, Tricia had assumed they were quite happy.

“Nikki shared your big announcement with me. Congratulations, Daddy,” she said with a smile.

Russ shrugged and his expression was anything but happy. “If you say so.”

“Oh, come on, Russ. This is wonderful news.”

The man looked positively depressed. “It would have been . . . if we had your money.”

“Hey, the two of you have two successful businesses. Okay, this is the leanest part of the retail year, but things will pick up—and soon. I’m sure of it.”

“From your lips to our cash registers.” He shook his head and looked sadder yet. “The truth is, ever since I had the misfortune of buying this rag I haven’t had a pot to piss in. Nikki owes so much on the Patisserie that we’re really struggling—and I don’t see things getting better anytime soon.”

“Surely you can hang on until the tourists return in a couple of months,” Tricia said.

“Barely. That won’t help my bottom line—or hers.”

“You can’t take it out on the poor baby,” Tricia chided.

“Tricia, I’m forty-five. When my kid graduates from high school I’ll almost be eligible for Social Security. And besides that, will I still be able to throw the kid a baseball?”

“You might have a little ballerina on your hands,” she said.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to need clothes, shoes, and a college education. We can’t afford a kid, and Nikki’s got her heart set on staying home with it. That just isn’t going to happen. We’ve been arguing about it for days.”

“Stop being so negative,” she chided, frowning, and thought of her mother and how her negativity had shaped Tricia’s life. “I can tell you from experience that what you say and do in front of your child will have a lasting effect that will stay with him or her for their entire life.”

“What kind of experience? Are you talking about your mother?” Russ pushed.

She nodded. When they’d been dating, she’d told him all about her stormy relationship with her mother. “Angelica finally spilled the beans on why I’ve been persona non grata my entire life.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to share it with me?”

Tricia thought about it for a moment. Russ’s opinion of her mother wasn’t likely to be improved, but then he wasn’t ever likely to meet her, either.

“It turns out I had a twin brother who died at two months. It seems my mother has held it against me my entire life.” There. She’d said it aloud. She’d said it without rancor. She was getting used to the whole idea and while it didn’t feel good, she thought she was near acceptance.

“And you never knew?” Russ asked, surprised.

She shook her head.

“Are you going to bring it up the next time you talk to her?”

Tricia shook her head once again. “What’s the point? Nothing I say will change her mind. She’ll always blame me for what happened.”

“But you were a baby.”

She managed an ironic laugh. “Yeah, go figure.”

Russ’s expression darkened. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Trish.”

“Me, too. That’s why I want you to promise me that you’ll give yourself a chance to fall head-over-heels in love with your child. I have a feeling you’re going to think that having this baby was the best thing that ever happened to you and Nikki.”

“I sure hope so.” He sat back in his chair, signaling it was time to move on from that subject. “What else is on your mind? Or should I even bother asking. Betsy Dittmeyer’s death, right?”

Tricia nodded, and unhappily so.

“If I know you, you’ve been poking your nose into things. What have you found out?”

“The face Betsy showed the world was far different than the way she lived in secret.”

He smiled and his eyes opened wide as he leaned forward, eager for her to spill what she knew. “For instance?”

“She was a hoarder.”

Russ winced. “I’ve seen a couple of TV shows on the subject. It’s pretty nasty business.”

“It sure is.”

“Can I assume that you—and probably Angelica—visited Betsy’s home to learn that piece of news in person?”

“I’m not admitting to anything,” Tricia said. “I can tell you that from what I’ve discovered, Betsy wasn’t a very nice woman, and she had a lot of money—from multiple sources, not all of them aboveboard.”

“Did you come here thinking I might have some inside information on her?”

“You do seem to be able to dig up dirt the rest of us would never have access to.”

Russ shrugged. “I admit, I have spoken to a few people about her.”

“Are you willing to share?” Tricia asked.

He shrugged. “Since I’m only going to be doing an obit, I might as well. Although I’ll probably skew it to the sunnier side of her life.”

“You’re not going to run a straightforward news story?” Tricia asked, surprised.

“Whatever I’ve got will be old news by the time the next issue comes out.”

“Not necessarily. Will the Nashua and Manchester papers even care about her death two weeks down the line?”

Again he shrugged. “You’ve got a point. Okay, I’ll share. Betsy was an alcoholic.”

“I knew that.”

“She had a bitter divorce.”

“Knew that, too.”

“She had a daughter who died young. I guess it crushed her spirit.”

“I heard that, too.”

Russ scowled. “Then why don’t you tell me something about her that I haven’t heard.”

Tricia wrestled with her conscience. “All right, I’ll share the biggie. Betsy was embezzling money from the Chamber of Commerce.”

Russ’s eyes widened in surprised. “That’s a biggie, all right. What do Bob and Angelica think about that?”

“I’m pretty sure Bob doesn’t know. Angelica was appalled and she’s arranging to have the books audited. She’ll probably have to sue Betsy’s estate to get the funds back. Betsy’s Chamber files also contained a dossier of members that was highly uncomplimentary.”

“Am I on the list?” he asked warily.

“Everybody is on the list, and none of it is complimentary. I wondered if she might be using it for blackmail purposes, but I haven’t found any evidence to support it—yet.”

“Who’s going to admit it and paint themselves as a suspect? That said, it could explain where she got some of her money.”

Tricia thought about the file she’d opened the night before. “I wonder if she kept lists like that on her previous employers and fellow employees. Over the years she might have collected a lot of cash. I know she had a lot of investments.”

“How much is a lot?” he asked.

“Millions.”

“That’s a lot,” Russ agreed.

“And she recently disinherited her younger sister. Joelle Morrison said it was because she nagged Betsy to get counseling, but I’m not sure I swallow that excuse.”

“Have you narrowed down the list of suspects?” Russ asked.

Tricia shook her head. “I’m stumped. There are plenty of people with an ax to grind, but their motives just aren’t strong enough to warrant a murder charge and a long jail sentence.”

“People do stupid things in the heat of passion, and from what I learned from your police chief friend, someone strangled the old witch before pulling a bookshelf onto her.”

Tricia nodded. She and Russ stared at each other for a long minute, and for the first time in a long time she realized she once again saw him as a friend. The anger at his rejection of her and then from stalking her was suddenly gone. He’d changed since meeting Nikki—and for the better. She’d brought out his more noble qualities and Tricia hoped they could reach a compromise about their new arrival. “I don’t have much else to go on. When will you write Betsy’s obituary?”

“The paper goes to bed on Friday afternoon. Do you think you’ll find out anything else before then?”

Tricia shrugged. “I don’t know. This one’s a puzzler. If the people on Betsy’s unflattering list knew about the information she’d collected on them they’d be angry—but I don’t think there’s anything on the list worth killing for.”

“Good. Then count me out,” Russ said with a laugh.

Tricia stood, grabbed her coat, and put it on. “I’ve got to get back to my store.”

“And I’ve got to get back to my spreadsheets. Promise you’ll share whatever else you find out?”

“Only if you do, too.”

He gave her a wink. “You got it.”

“And think about what I said about your new arrival. I have faith that you and Nikki are going to be wonderful parents, and when that baby arrives, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without him or her.”

He still looked skeptical. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“Have you ever known me to be wrong?”

Russ shook his head and smiled. “Never.”

Tricia returned his smile, glad she and Russ no longer had to be at odds. “I’ll see you later.”

*   *   *

Tricia was chagrined to find just how late it was when she finally returned to Haven’t Got a Clue. She found Pixie sitting in the empty store’s readers’ nook with stacks of catalogs piled on the large square coffee table before her, her reading glasses resting on the tip of her nose and a big yellow highlighter in hand. Miss Marple was curled up on the chair across from her, while a Sinatra CD played quietly on the store’s stereo. “Oh, you’re back,” Pixie called in greeting, and even Miss Marple opened a sleepy eye to acknowledge Tricia’s presence.

“Angelica called wondering where you were for lunch.”

“I was so busy I never got around to it. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you and Mr. Everett to go out together,” she said, and shrugged out of her coat.

“That’s okay, he went to the diner and got us sandwiches to go.”

“Have we had many customers since I’ve been gone?” Tricia asked, folding the coat over her left arm.

Pixie shook her head sadly. “Not a one. But Miss Marple and I have been studying catalogs, and I fielded a number of calls. We got another invitation to look over a book collection—leftovers from an estate sale. I told them you’d call back.”

“Thank you.”

“How did your errands go? Did you learn anything new?” Pixie asked rather hungrily. And why not? Except for Mr. Everett, the poor woman had been cut off from human contact for a good chunk of the day.

“Not as much as I’d hoped.” Tricia left it at that.

She was about to head to the back of the store to hang up her coat when she remembered that she’d promised Angelica she’d ask Grace about her attending Mr. Everett’s surprise birthday party on Friday. She made an about-face, set her coat on the back of one of the nook’s comfortable chairs, and headed to the cash desk to make the call.

“Hi, Linda. It’s Tricia Miles. Is there a chance I could talk to Grace?”

“I’m sorry,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but Mrs. Harris-Everett has stepped away from her desk.” Tricia winced. How could she have forgotten that Grace had said that her assistant, Linda, was out following an emergency appendectomy? The person who answered was no doubt the temp she’d mentioned she’d hired.

“Oh, dear. I was hoping to speak to her before this afternoon. Could you please have her call me?”

“Of course. Although if you want to catch her, she said she was going to stop by the Dog-Eared Page. Perhaps you might see her there.”

Tricia couldn’t help but smile. Grace really must have enjoyed that sherry the other day. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“Have a good evening,” the temp said and ended the call.

Tricia set down the receiver and picked up her coat once more.

“Going somewhere else?” Pixie asked.

“Um, yes. I need to run across the street for a minute or two. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Take your time,” Pixie said, and went back to studying the catalogs. “Me and Miss Marple have got nothing but time to kill.”

Pixie killing time during working hours was not terribly efficient, but it was convenient to have her there when Tricia wanted to run errands. She donned her coat and headed out the door once more.

Tricia opened the door to the Dog-Eared Page and found it quiet, with only three or four customers. Shawn, the daytime bartender, was waiting on several early-evening customers, while the pub’s manager, Michele Fowler, sat at one of the back tables with Grace. Tricia paused. She could hardly ask Grace to invite Angelica to Mr. Everett’s birthday celebration with Michele there.

She was about to turn and leave when Grace saw her, waving a hand for Tricia to come and join them. She pasted on a smile and threaded her way between the tables, heading toward the back of the room.

“Tricia, what brings you here at this time of day?” Grace asked, smiling.

“The woman in your office told me I might find you here.”

“Oh?”

“It’s about Friday night,” she said, lowering her voice.

“William’s birthday?” Michele asked with a grin. “Grace was just telling me about it. Sounds like it will be a jolly good time.”

“Yes, it does,” Tricia agreed warily.

“The thing I miss most about working days is joining friends for dinner. I’m missing out on all the fun,” Michele said with a pout.

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Grace asked Tricia.

There was no other way to get around it. “It seems Angelica would like to be included in Mr. Everett’s birthday bash. She was going to call you herself, but I didn’t want her to put you on the spot.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure William would love to have her join us. That is, he would if he knew about the party, especially as she’s included us in so many of her own celebrations. I feel ashamed that I didn’t think to include her from the start.” She turned to Michele. “Now you are sworn to secrecy,” she chided.

Michele laughed, and for a moment held her index finger to her lips. “I shan’t tell a soul. But should you want to continue the celebration after dinner, I hope you’ll come back to the pub. We’ll have live music, lots of drink specials, and the first round is on me.”

Grace beamed. “Perhaps we shall.”

Tricia felt awkward standing there. “I’d better get going. I’m so looking forward to Friday. See you then.”

Grace lifted her glass as though in a toast, and Tricia waved before she turned to leave.

The sky was a washed-out gray and the wind was fierce when Tricia stepped out of the Dog-Eared Page. She waited for several cars to pass before she crossed the street and saw a man with a week’s worth of stubble on his cheeks bundled in a ragged camouflage coat, a matching hunting cap, and a scarf wrapped around his face, who stood in the space between By Hook or By Book and the Outer Limits Sci-Fi and Comics shop. The man had wrapped his arms around himself and looked half frozen. Were there actually homeless people tramping the streets of Stoneham?

The man seemed to notice Tricia staring, and turned and hurried down the street. There was something familiar about his gait. And then Tricia realized just who it was she’d been studying. “Bob! Bob Kelly! Wait!” Her calls only made the man break into a run.

Tricia frowned, checked traffic once again, and crossed the street for her shop.

The bell over the door jangled cheerfully, but Tricia felt anything but cheerful as she entered. Still seated in the readers’ nook, Pixie looked up from the catalog she’d been perusing. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you see a man in a camo jacket outside just a few minutes ago?”

Pixie nodded. “Yeah, I did. Looked like some old rummy. Not the kind of guy you usually see hanging around the village.”

“I think it was Bob Kelly.”

“Shut up!” Pixie said, rising from her seat and moving to join Tricia.

“I’m serious.”

They both looked south out the big display window. “I’ve never seen that guy without his green sport coat,” Pixie said with a shrug. “Has he come on hard times?”

“He seems to have been hiding for the past couple of days—maybe as long as a week.”

Again Pixie shrugged. “Has he got a reason to hide?”

Tricia sighed. Yes, he did. But she wasn’t sure she should be talking to Pixie about it.

Pixie looked at the clock on the wall. “Holy cow, it’s about time for me to hit the road.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long and for most of the day, especially since you said you needed to get a new tire for your car.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow I’ll just set my alarm for an hour earlier and see if I can get that tire before I come in to work. I might have to wait, though, so don’t panic if I’m a few minutes late.”

“I won’t.” Pixie took Tricia’s coat and went to the back of the store to fetch her own.

“I really appreciate all the boring hours you’ve put in this winter.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been bored for one second of the time I’ve spent here at Haven’t Got a Clue. You want boredom? Spend a couple of years in stir. That’s almost as bad as a death sentence. And thanks to your giving me this job, I’m never going to jail again.”

For a moment Tricia thought Pixie might burst into tears. “I’m glad you feel that way, Pixie. Now, shoo! Go get that new tire for your car.”

“Thanks, boss. See you tomorrow.”

As Pixie went out the door, Angelica entered, carrying a large pizza box. “Anybody hungry?” she called cheerfully.

“I’ll say. I missed lunch today.”

“And don’t I know it,” Angelica said. “Your tuna plate is still sitting in my undercounter fridge.”

Miss Marple raised her sleepy head and looked at Angelica as she unfastened her coat, shrugged out of it, and tossed it onto the cash desk. “Let’s eat this in the readers’ nook.”

“No soda?” Tricia asked.

“Rats. Sorry. I forgot. Have you got any wine?”

“By the time I run upstairs to get it and some glasses, the pizza will be cold. Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee dregs and pizza?” Angelica asked, appalled. “No thanks.”

No longer drowsy, a hopeful Miss Marple sat primly in her chair, watching Tricia’s every move as she grabbed a wad of paper napkins from the beverage station and joined Angelica in the nook.

Angelica opened the box, letting out a burst of steam, and selected a slice before shoving the pie toward Tricia. “Oh, good, veggies,” Tricia said.

“Yes, if you put enough on”—and she had: onions, peppers, mushrooms, and broccoli—“you can almost convince yourself that it’s a healthy meal.”

They both took a bite. De-lish!

Tricia chewed and swallowed. “Have you heard anything from Karen Johnson?” she asked, eyeing the cat, who’d not only been known to sniff but take a taste of pizza on more than one occasion.

Angelica wiped her mouth with a napkin. “As a matter of fact, yes. I invited her to speak to the Chamber at the next breakfast and she agreed. I figured it would be a nice way for her to get to know everyone.”

“I meant in regard to finding a place for the Chamber to rent.”

“As a matter of fact, yes on that count, too,” Angelica said and practically squealed with delight. “NRA Realty has found the Chamber potential office space.”

“Where?”

“Across from the bank.” She took another bite of her pizza.

Tricia had to think about it for a moment. “I don’t remember any office space near there.”

Angelica finished chewing and swallowed. “Think again. The little run-down white house with the shutters falling off.”

Tricia frowned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No. Apparently Antonio has been working on it for a while. Several months ago Billie Burke at the bank alerted him that the owner might be willing to sell.”

“Bypassing Kelly Realty?” Tricia asked. “What gives?”

“I have no idea. But Antonio finished negotiating a month or so ago and Nigela Ricita Associates took possession of it just today. It’s Karen’s first property to lease and she’s eager to have me look at it. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” Tricia said. After all, she had nothing better to do. “When?”

“This evening.”

“Is that a good time to look at a potential home for the Chamber—in the dark?”

“Why not?”

“You might miss all its flaws and then get stuck with it.”

“I don’t think Antonio would let the Chamber get involved if he didn’t think it was a good prospect.”

“Promise me you won’t make up your mind until after you’ve seen it,” Tricia advised and noticed Miss Marple inching closer to the open pizza box.

“I won’t,” Angelica said.

Tricia ate another bite of her pizza and continued to keep an eye on the cat before speaking again. “I still don’t get it. For years Bob’s had all the property sewn up on Main Street. How come he never got his hands on that little house?”

“Apparently he annoyed the little old lady who owned it by continually badgering her to sell. She was so irritated she refused to deal with him. When Antonio found out about it, he took it upon himself to track down and meet the owner. Apparently she found him irresistible and he sweet-talked her into the deal.”

“He is rather lovable,” Tricia agreed as Miss Marple raised a paw to bat the pizza box. “No, no,” Tricia admonished and the cat sat back down, looking dutifully chastised. “If I’m not mistaken, that property has been empty the entire time I’ve lived here in Stoneham. And you’re talking about a house—not office space.”

“Karen feels it can easily be converted to office space,” Angelica explained.

“Who owned it?”

“A widow. She moved in with her daughter in Manchester several years back. Apparently the place needs a little work, but NRA Realty is going to refurbish it for us.”

“What are they going to charge the Chamber?” Tricia asked, still finding herself speaking as the voice of doom.

“Oh, dear. I didn’t think to ask.” Angelica bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so eager when I spoke to Karen. What if she jacks up the price?”

“You don’t have to take it,” Tricia said.

“My storeroom isn’t exactly handicapped accessible, and that little house already has a ramp. We need to move someplace and fast.”

“First you need to hire someone to take on the Chamber’s day-to-day duties.”

Angelica nodded and sighed. “That I do.” She took another bite of pizza, chewed, and swallowed. “That’s all my news for the day. What trouble did you get into today?”

“Hardly trouble. I spoke to Jerry Dittmeyer,” Tricia said.

“Oh?” Angelica said, sounding interested.

She nodded. “Did you know he works for David Black?”

“No,” Angelica replied, distinctly uninterested. “Betsy called David when he first opened his business and asked him to join the Chamber. He said no, of course. Said he didn’t want to have to run into either of us if he could help it. Now that I think of it, Betsy reported that little piece of information with a tinge of glee.” She sighed. “I’m sorry she’s dead, but I’m awfully glad I won’t be stuck with her for the remainder of my term as Chamber president. Speaking of which, I spoke to Libby Hirt.” Libby ran the local job bank, along with the Stoneham Food Shelf. “She’s got several people looking for secretarial work. She’s going to send me their résumés. In fact, they’re probably already in my e-mail in-box. I just haven’t had a chance to log on in the past couple of hours.”

“I thought you were going to wait until after Betsy’s funeral.”

“Well, no one has said anything about plans, and I do have to keep up with things. I simply can’t juggle my own businesses and keep the Chamber on track without help.”

Finally figuring out that she wasn’t going to be offered a bit of cheese, Miss Marple got up and sauntered away, heading for the back of the store. “Have you thought about hiring a virtual assistant for yourself?” Tricia asked Angelica.

“A virtual assistant? What could someone like that do for me?”

“I had a long conversation about it with the last author who came to sign at Haven’t Got a Clue. They do all kinds of things for authors—like posting on various social media sites, and sending out bookmarks and such to fans.”

“This sounds intriguing. I’ll have to look into it.” She sighed. “But my first priority must be the Chamber. Dear Antonio has offered to have one of his staff take care of the Chamber’s March breakfast, but I still have to give him an estimate of how many are coming. And then there’s the monthly newsletter . . .”

“Virtual assistants do newsletters, too. I’ll bet if you found one for yourself, they could also do Chamber work, too.”

“I don’t know. I’d have to think about it. The Chamber really needs to have a real person who can deal with problems that arise. I think my best option is still to find a small office to rent and replace Betsy as soon as possible.”

Tricia nodded. “Let me know if you change your mind and I’ll put out some feelers.”

“Thank you. Now, did Betsy’s ex have anything juicy to say about her?”

Tricia shook her head. “You know, he was angry when we first started talking, but the more he spoke about her, the more he seemed . . . I don’t know, regretful? He said at one time she was a dynamite lady.” Tricia sobered. “Somehow I just can’t imagine Betsy as a real spitfire, but . . . I suppose anything’s possible. Or was when she was younger.”

“Do you want another slice of pizza?” Angelica asked, taking one for herself.

Tricia shook her head. “I also went back to Betsy’s house and managed to talk to one of her neighbors.”

“Did you learn anything of interest?”

“Only that, thanks to Betsy, the neighbors have a terrible mouse problem. She said after Jerry left, Betsy didn’t bother with proper maintenance. She corroborated some of the things Joelle told me on Saturday. And, speaking of Joelle, the neighbor also said she’s been back again and again, but she doesn’t leave with anything other than her purse. Or at least a purse.”

“So what’s she been doing there?” Angelica asked.

“Tidying?” Tricia suggested. “If the neighbor hadn’t been watching me like a hawk, I might have walked around back to see if Joelle had lifted any of the blinds.” Tricia ate her last bite of pizza. “I have one piece of happy news for you.” Angelica’s eyes lit up. “You are now officially on the guest list for Mr. Everett’s surprise birthday party.”

“Oh, good. If I can’t be out on a date with a rich, handsome, and kind man, then I’d just as soon be among my friends—and you, dear Tricia.”

“Thank you.” Tricia wiped her mouth with one of the paper napkins. “What time do we have to meet Karen?”

Angelica bit into her pizza and looked at the clock. She chewed and swallowed before answering. “In about fifteen minutes.”

“That soon?”

“Why, have you got something else planned for tonight?”

“Hardly,” Tricia said without enthusiasm. She noticed Miss Marple patiently waiting by the stairs that led to her loft apartment. “I’ve got to feed Miss Marple. By the time I’m finished, it should be time to leave.”

“No rush,” Angelica said and reached for a third slice of pizza.

Tricia got up from her chair, shaking her head. No doubt Angelica would soon be complaining about her weight again and Tricia would have no sympathy for her. And what if the little house proved unsuitable as office space? Would Angelica find solace in junk food and eat even more?

Tricia wasn’t going to speculate.

Instead, she opened the door marked PRIVATE and headed up the stairs with Miss Marple trotting along beside her. If the house did meet Angelica’s standards, and she indeed rented it for the Chamber of Commerce, it would no doubt annoy the hell out of Bob Kelly, and that at least made Tricia smile.

*   *   *

Since the rental house was only two blocks up the street, Tricia and Angelica elected to walk the short distance. They saw a car parked at the curb. As they approached, the engine died, and Karen Johnson got out. “Good evening, ladies.”