It was long past dark by the time Tricia let herself into Haven’t Got a Clue and instantly heard a plaintive brrrpt! Miss Marple loped across the darkened store to meet her. The cat twined between Tricia’s legs, scolding her for nondelivery of her dinner. According to the clock on the wall, Miss Marple should have been fed two hours before.
“I’m sorry, my pet, but you wouldn’t have wanted me to leave Mr. Everett alone at the hospital until I was sure he’d be okay, would you?”
Miss Marple gave an understanding “Yow.”
Tricia picked up the cat and started toward the stairs to her loft apartment. She could always use the lint brush to remove any lingering cat hairs. But she stopped when she heard the sound of angry pounding on the store’s front door. She turned. “What the heck?”
Miss Marple reminded her that she was very, very hungry with a strident “Yow,” but Tricia put the cat down and warily approached the door-after all, there was a murderer on the loose in Stoneham. But as she peeked through the slats in the blind, she saw that it was Grace Harris-Everett who stood behind the door.
Tricia quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Grace, what on earth are you doing he-”
“Where is William?” she demanded and pushed her way into the store.
“I tried to call you numerous times. I left instructions with my new assistant manager, Linda, to try to get in touch with you, too.”
“About what?” Grace snapped.
“Grace, Mr. Everett is at St. Joseph Hospital in Milford. He was pale and sweaty and couldn’t catch his breath. I thought he might be having a heart attack, so I called 911. I tried to call you even before the ambulance arrived-”
“Ambulance!” Grace cried, terrified.
“But Pixie hung up on me. I called back and she told me off-called me a bitch who’d crossed her because I’d gotten in to see you today.”
“I don’t care about any of that-please!-tell me what’s happened to my husband.”
“He’s okay-stable. The doctors don’t think he suffered a heart attack-”
“Good Lord,” Grace cried, and for a moment Tricia thought she might faint. She grabbed the woman’s arm to steady her and led her to a chair in the readers’ nook.
Grace fell into her seat, hunched over, and began to sob, while Tricia stood over her fighting her own tears. “He’ll be okay, Grace. But he’d really like to have you by his side. He thinks-” She paused, unsure how to continue. “He’s feeling a little unloved right now. He feels you’ve become obsessed with the charity to the extent that you’ve forgotten about your life together.”
If anything, Grace just cried harder.
“I know you want to give Pixie a chance, but she’s so protective of you she kept both Linda and me from communicating with you when you were needed most.”
Grace struggled to compose herself. “She needed a second chance.”
“And she probably deserves it. But her gifts might not include dealing with the public. I know there are people out there who will try to abuse you and the charity, but being civil has to be a prerequisite and I’m afraid right now Pixie doesn’t seem capable.”
“I’ll fire her tomorrow,” Grace said with yet another sob.
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. Why not train her to learn the difference between scammers and those who are sincere in their need-as well as those who can benefit the charity? You’ve got a big heart, Grace. Use this experience as a teaching moment for Pixie. Maybe this is something the charity can do for others, too. Not just job training, but life training for people who never had the opportunity to learn those skills.”
Grace nodded. “You’re right, Tricia. I truly wanted to help Pixie make a better life for herself. But it frightens me that she took it upon herself to insulate me when William needed me most.”
“Mr. Everett was asleep when I left, but I know he’d feel so much better if he awoke to find you holding his hand. I’d be glad to drive you to the hospital.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Grace said and stood. “Can you ever forgive me for being such an old fool?”
“Grace, your generosity is legendary. I think you just lost sight of who you love the most and how the opportunity to indulge that generosity came to you.”
Grace shook her head sadly. “William is more important to me than anything else on this earth. And you’re right. I did lose sight of that. It will never happen again.” She let out a long sigh, and her eyes again were heavy with tears. “Please-please take me to the hospital. I don’t think I could safely drive there by myself.”
“Of course,” Tricia said, and gratefully accepted the hug Grace offered.
“Yow!” Miss Marple interrupted and Grace pulled back from the embrace to laugh. Although weak, Tricia could tell it was heartfelt.
“Just give me a couple of minutes to feed my cat, and then we’ll be on our way. I’m afraid she’s quite overdue.”
“Of course,” Grace said.
Tricia headed to the back of the shop and the stairs to her loft with Miss Marple galloping behind her. True to her word, Tricia returned to the store a few minutes later and found a much more graceful Grace waiting for her. “Let’s go,” she said, and started for the door. But then she paused. “Oh dear. If I drive you to the hospital, you’ll be stranded.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Grace agreed.
“Hold on,” Tricia said, and retrieved the cell phone from her pocket. She punched in the code for Angelica’s loft landline.
“What’s up, Trish?” Angelica answered.
“I need a favor…”
Half an hour later, Tricia stood behind the hospital’s double doors, staring through the glass to the driveway. Angelica’s car pulled up and Tricia exited the building and hopped into the passenger seat.
“Grace told me to thank you and give you a give hug,” Tricia said.
Angelica didn’t answer but took her foot off the brake and let the car roll forward, heading toward the exit. She sniffed a few times, and Sarge, who was in the backseat on one of his travel beds, whimpered.
“What’s wrong?” Tricia asked, concerned. “When I spoke to you last, you sounded so chipper.”
“Oh, Trish-the absolute worst thing in the world has happened,” Angelica said, and Tricia could hear the tears in her voice.
“Worse than burning down a TV station?”
“Yes! Somebody uploaded a video of my cooking demonstration to the Internet. The whole fiasco is on YouTube! I’m publicly humiliated. There’s already been more than five thousand views since it went up at lunchtime.” She looked both ways, then pulled into traffic.
“Five thousand,” Tricia echoed.
“And the comments…they’re just terrible. They make fun of me. What I’m wearing. My cooking technique.”
“Are all the comments bad?”
“Well…not all of them. But enough to make sure no other bookstore, radio, or TV station will ever again host me.”
“I think you’re being far too hard on yourself,” Tricia said, not sure if that was the truth. After all, what did she know about these things?
“Oh, and look who’s talking. Your world fell apart and you were humiliated when Christopher left you, and from what appears to be no fault of your own.”
Appears to be? Tricia fumed, astounded by Angelica’s assessment. “What has all this got to do with that video?”
“It’s just that…my life was finally straightening out. I was a successful businesswoman. I was going to be the next Paula Deen, and now…now my writing career is over. People will be afraid to eat at Booked for Lunch for fear the place will erupt in flames. And-”
“Calm down. This is not the end of your world.”
“So you say.”
It was definitely time for a change of subject. “Did Bob ever track you down this afternoon?”
“What? No. But he left me plenty of voice mails. He’s absolutely livid that I bought into the Sheer Comfort Inn.”
“Is that why you sounded so chipper when I called earlier?”
That brought half a smile to Angelica’s face. “Maybe. But honestly, between Bob and that video, tomorrow I’m calling my providers to have all my phone numbers changed.”
“Has anyone called to talk about the video?”
“Not yet, but it’s inevitable. I checked my e-mail just before I left, and I’d reached the maximum my inbox could hold. They’ve all got subject lines that say Fire or something similar.”
“Are they all bad?”
“Who knows? I’m going to delete them all-sight unseen.”
Tricia frowned. “Is that wise?”
“It’s self-preservation.”
Angelica pulled into her usual spot in the municipal parking lot and cut the engine.
“Do you want to come up to my place for a glass of wine and unwind before you have to face your computer?” Tricia asked.
Angelica sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Miss Marple doesn’t like Sarge, and I don’t want his little ego to be crushed. I’ve suffered enough of that today for both of us.” It was just as well. Tricia had forgotten that she hadn’t replenished her wine cellar.
They got out of the car, with Angelica retrieving her dog from the backseat. She clipped Sarge’s leash onto his collar and set the dog on the ground, and then the three of them headed for the sidewalk along Main Street.
“Shouldn’t you take Sarge to the park before you turn in for the night?” Tricia asked.
“I’ll take him out in the alley after we get inside.”
“Don’t you ever feel vulnerable doing that? It’s not well lit.”
“Vulnerable? Here in Stoneham? Never,” Angelica declared.
The streetlamps shed scant light on this gloomy evening. No moonlight brightened the night sky, which seemed even devoid of stars. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they walked past the Patisserie.
As they approached the Have a Heart bookshop, a figure jumped out of the space between it and the bakery. Startled, Tricia grabbed Angelica’s arm as Sarge exploded into shrieks of frenzied barks, tugging at the leash with the ferocity of a pit bull.
“Call off that animal,” said a male voice they instantly recognized.
Tricia’s anxiety immediately evaporated. “Bob, what do you think you’re doing, trying to scare us like that?”
“I want answers-and not from you, Tricia. Go home.”
“And leave my sister alone with an angry man? No way!” she declared.
“I have Sarge to protect me,” Angelica yelled over Sarge’s barking.
“Shut up!” Bob hollered.
Again Sarge lunged at him, but Angelica held him back. “What is your problem, Bob?” she demanded.
“You! You betrayed me.”
“Oh, and you think sleeping with that little tramp wasn’t a betrayal to me?” she countered.
“I told you, I’m not even sure I did sleep with her. I was drunk.”
“And that’s supposed to reassure me?” Angelica cried.
Tricia wished she were elsewhere-but she wasn’t about to leave her sister alone on a dark street with this nutcase. Besides, Sarge’s barking was beginning to get to her, too.
As though Angelica could read her mind, she tugged on the dog’s leash and said, “Shush.” The barking stopped.
“Just tell me why?” Bob said, and Tricia was sure his voice cracked on the last word.
“I presume you mean about me investing in the inn.”
He nodded.
“Because it seemed like a good venture. Stoneham needs places visitors can stay. You’ve been more concerned with collecting rent on your own properties. That’s good for you, but the booksellers and restaurants need income to survive. Stoneham needs more development-more than you’re willing to promote.”
“But I was in on the deal-until you cut me out.”
Angelica merely shrugged.
Bob scowled. “I suppose next you’ll tell me you’re going to challenge me for president of the Chamber of Commerce.”
“To tell you the truth, I haven’t ruled it out,” Angelica declared.
Bob laughed uproariously, and Tricia fought the urge to kick him.
“There’s no way the booksellers and other merchants would vote you in against me.”
“Oh no?” Angelica asked.
Did Bob hear the menace in her voice? Tricia stifled a laugh. Boy, was he in trouble now.
“I own this village,” Bob continued. “You have as much chance of taking my Chamber job as I have of becoming the next Miss America.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Bob, I think you’d look sweet in a rhinestone tiara,” Tricia said.
He turned an evil glare at her. “Shut up.”
“Don’t you talk to my sister like that,” Angelica cried.
“I’ll do what I please,” Bob asserted, “and you can’t do anything about it.”
“Oh no?” Angelica asked with more than a hint of threat in her voice.
Bob’s chest seemed to puff out. “Yeah.”
Angelica’s mouth twisted into a devilish smile. “Sarge-attack!”
The tiny dog lunged at Bob as Angelica hit the release on his retractable leash, and was instantly attached to Bob’s left pants leg.
“Get him off, get him off me!” he cried, shaking his leg to try to dislodge the dog, but Sarge was a growling ball of fur tugging at the fabric.
Tricia laughed. Of course, she was instantly sorry-but she’d felt the same as Sarge on more than one occasion.
“Bad dog,” Angelica said, jerking the leash back, but there was no remorse in her voice. Sarge would probably get a pâté treat once Angelica got him back home. She hauled in the leash and picked up the still-barking dog.
This time it was Tricia who ordered Bob to “Go home.”
Bob’s lower lip trembled as he rubbed at his calf, but apart from a tear in the fabric, there was no dark bloodstain marring the light-colored material. For a moment, Tricia thought he might burst into tears.
“Please, Bob-just go home,” she said softly.
Without a word, Bob shoved past them and soon disappeared into the gloom between the streetlights.
The sisters looked after him for a long minute. Sarge’s sharp barks winnowed into grunts as Angelica petted him and murmured “Good boy” into his ear. Eventually, she set him back down on the ground. “Well, that was unexpected,” she said.
“Hardly. You had to know Bob would eventually catch up with you. This is a tiny village, after all.”
“Yes, but who knew it would be so satisfying?” Angelica said smugly.
“You’ve just made an enemy of your landlord. Bob isn’t going to let you forget it. He owns the buildings where you live and work.”
“And I’ve got six months left on the lease for the Cookery and eighteen on Booked for Lunch.”
“What if he won’t renew them?”
Angelica shrugged. “I might have to move. I wouldn’t like that,” she admitted. “I like living next door to you, but-I’d adjust.”
Tricia had been appalled when Angelica had bought the Cookery’s assets and signed a three-year lease for the building. Now she couldn’t imagine her sister living even a block away from her. “What about me?” she asked as they paused in front of the Cookery.
“You’d adjust, too.” Angelica fumbled for her keys and sighed. “I may not have any business left if interest in that damn video doesn’t die down.”
“Then that nonsense you told Bob about taking his job at the Chamber was all bluff and bluster?”
“Oh, no. I was serious about that. I am a woman scorned.” She looked down at Sarge, who looked back adoringly. Smiling, she picked him up again, planting a kiss on his head. “Wasn’t my little man brave to stand up to that bully Bob?”
“I didn’t see any blood on his pants, but if Sarge broke the skin, odds are you’re looking at a lawsuit.”
“You’re my witness. Bob ordered you to leave. I felt threatened. You don’t deny that, do you?”
“No,” Tricia answered, unsure if that was the honest truth. “And I’d feel better if I accompanied you to the alley for Sarge’s comfort stop, just in case Bob shows up again.”
“It’s okay with me,” Angelica said, and opened the Cookery’s door. They entered the store and Angelica turned on the lights and led the way to the back entrance. She disabled the security system on the back entrance and opened the door. Tricia followed her down the concrete steps to the alley and paused, thinking she’d heard some odd, unidentifiable noise.
Across the one-lane asphalt drive was a weedy strip of grass. Sarge knew why he was there and quickly finished his business. “Come, come!” Angelica called, but the dog’s ears pricked up, and he gave one sharp bark before he bolted. He ran until the leash pulled taut, jerking him to a halt, and he barked his displeasure.
Tricia squinted to try to identify what the dog was interested in. A mound of something littered the alley.
“What is that?” Angelica asked.
“I don’t know,” Tricia said, “but I could swear it moved.”
The women looked at one another and by unspoken agreement headed in the direction of the mound. Sarge bounded forward as soon as he realized the leash had gone slack and was soon upon the darkened hump, excitedly sniffing his prize.
“Good grief,” Tricia said, and picked up her pace. “I think it’s a person.”
“A person?” Angelica asked, and struggled to keep up with her sister.
Tricia bent down and reached for what she thought was a shoulder. It was a struggle to pull the body over. She gasped in recognition.
“Oh dear! It’s Chauncey Porter!”