Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

“You know, during a lull at the Cookery, I wondered why you didn’t buy the lot,” Ginny said.

“Me?” Tricia asked.

“Sure. It would’ve been a great investment. Eventually it would have paid for itself. If you rebuilt, you could either rent it out or move Haven’t Got a Clue to that location.”

Tricia peered through the store’s main display window, studying the empty lot. If it had been one building over, the narrow lot would have been perfect for Angelica to expand Booked for Lunch—allowing her to serve a bigger crowd al fresco, at least during the summer months. In winter, she didn’t even bother to open the café on Sundays. Of course, if the Brookside Inn continued with its no-brunch Sundays, maybe it would pay Angelica to stay open during the winter. Then again, she didn’t get much time off, juggling two successful businesses and a budding writing career.

“I’m surprised the lot sold so quickly,” Ginny said, and turned away from the window.

“Me, too. But it just goes to prove that being a book town has put Stoneham on the map. Obviously someone thinks rebuilding here would be worthwhile. That’s especially comforting to know after the most recent economic downturn.”

“It sure is. Well, gotta go.”

“Thanks for helping out at the Cookery.”

“No problem,” Ginny called, and headed for the door.

“Wait—we should talk about visiting Billie Hanson at the bank tomorrow.”

“Can’t right now,” Ginny said, and opened the door. “Meeting a friend in ten minutes for dinner. See you tomorrow.” And out the door she went.

Tricia frowned. Was Ginny avoiding the whole subject of the mortgage? Didn’t she understand what allowing the debt to mount was doing to her credit rating?

As she reached for the cord of the display window’s blinds, Tricia saw a Sheriff’s Department cruiser coming up Main Street. It pulled up outside of Haven’t Got a Clue, and Captain Baker got out of the driver’s side. He retrieved his high-crowned hat and put it on before heading for Tricia’s door. This was certainly her evening for visitors. Noticing the CLOSED sign, Baker knocked.

Tricia stepped over to the door and opened it. “My, you seem to be making a habit of visiting me after hours.”

“I wish I could say this was a personal visit, but I’m afraid it’s business.”

“Bob Kelly?’ Tricia asked.

Baker nodded. Obviously he’d gotten her message. “I thought you might like to know St. Joseph’s Hospital is holding Mr. Kelly overnight for observation.”

“That’s not unusual, is it? I mean, he could’ve been asphyxiated.”

“Tricia, the gas meter at the back of his house had been tampered with, just like what happened at History Repeats Itself.”

“What are you driving at?”

“Chief Farrar and I concur; we believe Mr. Kelly may have been responsible. It’s possible he tried to kill himself.”

Tricia’s mouth dropped. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Bob—attempt suicide? No way.” Tricia shook her head. “He just sewed up a deal to sell the empty lot on Main Street. Believe me, Bob loves money more than anything else. He’d never kill himself.”

“According to several members of the Chamber of Commerce, Mr. Kelly has seemed depressed for the past couple of weeks. And if he was responsible for killing Jim Roth, he may have had reason to—”

“Look, I may not be Bob’s best friend and advocate, but he wouldn’t kill anybody. He’s never been in any trouble with the law—why start now?”

“Who says he’s never been in trouble?” Baker asked reasonably.

Was it possible? Though Tricia had known Bob for just over two years, she knew virtually nothing about his past—except that he’d come from a home where food was sometimes scarce. Did Angelica know much more about him? Tricia would have to ask. And yet, Angelica hadn’t wanted to talk about Jake’s criminal past—would she be as tight-lipped about Bob’s past as well?

Still, if Tricia trusted one thing about Bob, it was that he’d go to any lengths to save his own hide.

“I don’t believe it. Bob would never risk his life to further a business deal. He owned the building. He could’ve been killed in that blast,” Tricia pointed out. “And now he’s made a deal to sell the property.”

“Someone wants that lot?”

“Yes, and until the building was destroyed, Bob was one of them. He’s got a lock on most of the property on Main Street. Renting out that real estate is the major source of his income.” Tricia shook her head again. “Besides, someone ransacked Bob’s house.”

“He could have done that himself.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Tricia, there’s no gas stove—just a furnace. The wrench used to loosen the connection on the pipe was on Kelly’s kitchen counter.”

“So? If someone did this to him, they might’ve left it there as a misleading clue. Did you look for fingerprints?”

“It was wiped clean.”

“Was there a suicide note? Was it signed?”

“We found a typed letter on the kitchen counter. Mr. Kelly has denied writing it.”

“Well, of course he would. You should be able to determine if the note came from Bob’s computer printer.”

“Only if we confiscate all his home and office equipment. We’re not ready to do that now—but it’s an option.”

“Do you seriously consider him a suspect?”

Baker didn’t blink. “Yes. So much so, that we intend to present our evidence to the district attorney, possibly as early as tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.”

“But you have at least two other suspects.”

“Who?”

“Jim Roth’s mother. You have to admit her behavior at the memorial this morning was outrageous.”

“She may have had a motive, but not the opportunity. She has an iron-clad alibi.”

“Who?”

“Her”—the captain paused, looked uncomfortable—“gentleman friend.”

“They could be lying.”

Baker didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Who’s your other suspect?”

It pained Tricia to say it. “Frannie Armstrong.”

“Possible motive, but no opportunity. Your sister swears she was working at the Cookery Wednesday afternoon and never left the premises.”

Tricia’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Angelica had been cooking in her apartment for most of that day. She wouldn’t have known if Frannie ducked out for five or ten minutes. Had Angelica lied to Baker to protect Frannie?

“Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this information about Mr. Kelly to yourself,” Baker said.

“Even from my sister?” Tricia asked.

“Especially from your sister.”

Tricia laughed. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I’ve got a brother.”

“Not a sister.” She waved a hand in the air. “Then you just wouldn’t understand.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t want you talking about this—to anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

“Then why did you tell me in the first place?”

For the first time since she’d met him, Captain Baker seemed unsure of himself. He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be leaving now. Until next time.”

He reached for the door handle, turned it, and left the store.

Tricia watched as he got into his cruiser and took off, heading north once again.

She lowered the blinds, grabbed the phone’s receiver, and dialed.

Angelica picked up on the fourth ring.

“Why did you have to call right now?” Angelica complained. “I’ve just run a bath. This lovely little bed-and-breakfast has one of those deep, old-fashioned claw-footed tubs. It must hold a million gallons. I intend to soak for at least an hour.”