Lorna Barrett - Murder On The Half Shelf

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.”