Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

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Chapter & Hearse: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Mystery bookstore owner Tricia Miles has been spending more time solving whodunits than reading them. Now a nearby gas explosion has injured Tricia's sister's boyfriend, Bob Kelly, the head of the Chamber of Commerce, and killed the owner of the town's history bookstore. Tricia's never been a fan of Bob, but when she reads that he's being tight-lipped about the "accident", it's time to take action.

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Baker withdrew his hands from hers. “Sometimes a restraining order works. Sometimes it just makes a person more cantankerous, and things can escalate.”

“He hasn’t really done anything to me— except annoy me.”

“If he bothers you, call the Sheriff’s Department—any time of day or night. I mean it.”

Tricia nodded.

Janice returned with Baker’s beer and Tricia’s wine, setting them on plain white cocktail napkins. “Be right back with your entrées.”

Baker lifted the bottle and poured a generous amount into the pilsner glass. “Here’s hoping Mr. Smith learns from his mistakes.”

Tricia did not raise her glass. “And if he doesn’t?”

Baker shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Fifteen

Tricia put down her book after realizing she’d read the same page three or four times and none of it had registered. The evening’s events had a stranglehold on her thoughts. Too wound up to sleep, she’d tried watching TV and reading, and had even contemplated baking, but couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. Meanwhile, the clock kept ticking.

It was ten thirty-six when the telephone rang, and Tricia eagerly picked up the receiver, hoping it would be Angelica. “Trish?” It was.

“Where are you tonight?”

“At this very moment, I’m sitting in my car in the municipal parking lot.”

“Here in Stoneham? But I thought you were supposed to be in Portland, Maine, tonight.”

“I was. But I figured I was only two hours from home— and I want to sleep in my own bed tonight. I just picked up a pizza. Are you hungry?”

“Sure. Come on up.”

Three minutes later, Angelica let herself into Tricia’s loft apartment. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Tricia said and threw her arms around her sister—only slightly hampered by the pizza box between them.

“Whoa! That’s an enthusiastic welcome. I may just go out and come back in.” Angelica set the pizza box on the kitchen island and flopped onto a stool. Miss Marple jumped up and greeted her with a curious “ Yow?”

Angelica addressed the cat, petting her on the head. “Yes, sweetie. I’m glad to see you, too.” They’d made their peace last fall, and since then, Miss Marple seemed to enjoy Angelica’s visits, although she knew better than to sit on her lap and shed cat hair.

Tricia got plates from the cupboard and snatched a spatula from the crock on the counter. “Want some wine with that?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

Tricia snagged a couple of glasses and an unopened bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator.

“I have a confession to make,” Angelica said, and slipped off her shoes. “You weren’t my first choice of companion.”

“Bob?” Tricia asked.

“Yes. I stopped off at his house with my lovely Mario’s pizza, and he turned me down flat,” she said, aggrieved. “He said he’d taken his pain pills and was too sleepy for company. It hurt my feelings.”

“I’d be more sympathetic toward Bob if he hadn’t been so secretive since the night of the explosion,” Tricia said, testing the warmth of the pizza and finding it lacking. “I’ll just pop this into the oven for ten minutes, okay?”

“Oh, sure,” Angelica agreed, grabbed the bottle, opened it, and poured them each a glass of wine.

Tricia turned on the oven, put the pizza—sans box—into it, and set the timer for ten minutes.

“I don’t know what to make of Bob,” Angelica said, and sipped her wine. “The truth is, he hasn’t been all that chummy for the past month or two. I attributed it to stress. He took a hard hit during the real estate crisis. And Jim wasn’t the only one of his tenants late with the rent, which has hampered his cash flow.”

“And now?” Tricia asked.

“Now I’m not so sure. He’s acting guilty—and that’s something he’s never done before.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

Angelica frowned, and suddenly looked all of her forty-seven years. “I don’t know. I hope not. Way too many men have betrayed me in the past. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t pushed my relationship with Bob too far, too fast.” She swirled the wine in her glass, and stared into space for several moments before she shook herself and sat straighter. “Let’s change the subject,” Angelica said, and abruptly emptied her glass with one large gulp. “What’s been happening in your world?”

It was about time she asked. “It seems I’ve got a stalker.”

“A stalker!” Angelica was on her feet in an instant. “Why didn’t you say something? Have you called the Sheriff’s Department? Are you getting nasty phone calls?”

“Whoa—whoa!” Tricia said, making a T with her hands for a time-out. “It’s Russ.”

“Russ? Give me a break.” Angelica sat back down, grabbed her glass, and poured more wine.

“Maybe stalker is too strong a word, but he’s gotten awfully possessive the past few days. I was having dinner with Captain Baker tonight, and—”

Angelica smiled lasciviously. “Now the story’s getting interesting.”

“Just as friends,” Tricia said, then continued. “Then Russ came in and attacked him.”

“And, and?” Angelica pressed, her eyes wide.

“Grant had him arrested.”

“My, my, little Tricia part of a lovers’ triangle. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I don’t.”

“It’s all much more exciting than my book tour, let me tell you,” Angelica said, and sighed. “I feel like I’m living in my car. And those hotel beds range from rock hard to squishy soft. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

“And you were so looking forward to it. How many more weeks will you be on the road?”

Angela’s frown grew deeper. “Three, off and on.”

“The perils of being published,” Tricia said without sympathy. Her gaze lit on the shopping bag from the Cookery that still sat on her counter. It was time to change the subject. “I had a rather bad experience last night.” She paused, embarrassed to admit it. “I baked.”

Angelica actually giggled. “You? Baked? That’s priceless. I only wish I could’ve witnessed it.”

“I’ll thank you not to mock my efforts.”

“Did you save any for me to try?”

Tricia hesitated. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure they were just delicious ,” Angelica said, failing to stifle a smirk. She didn’t sound one bit sorry, either.

“I was wondering if you could you give me a few tips. I have to bake some muffins for Jim’s wake tomorrow.”

“It’s tomorrow already? Where does the time go?” When it came to cookery, Angelica was all business. “First off, have you got the ingredients and the appropriate tools?”

“Yes. I visited the Cookery and bought everything I need.”

“You visited my store? Oh, Trish, that was sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Yes, and I have your receipts down in my safe. I’ll bank them for you on Monday.”

“Great. Now, let’s eat this pizza and get to baking.”

“You have to get up early in the morning. And besides, you must be exhausted after being on the road for three days.”

“Darling Trish, I live to bake. After being away from my kitchen for three days, I’m going through cooking withdrawal. The oven’s already up to speed—there’s nothing to stop us.”

“Okay, but only because you insist.”

The timer went off, and Angelica got up. She took the pizza out of the oven, returning it to its cardboard box. She set it on a trivet, then grabbed a slice and a plate. “Anything else happen while I’ve been gone?”

“All is not happiness and light at Booked for Lunch,” Tricia said as she reached for the wine and topped up their glasses. “You’ve got a problem.”

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