Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

“What happens next?” Tricia asked, and took two bone china mugs from the cupboard.

“I don’t know,” Angelica said, and sighed. “I still haven’t heard from Bob, but I’m hoping I can salvage tomorrow night’s signing.” She shook her head, gently put Miss Marple down on the floor, and stood. “I’m way too rattled to go to bed. I need to bake. What have you got on hand?”

“Not much more than I had last night.”

Angelica frowned. “It’s enough to make a coffee cake. Do you like coffee cake?”

“I love it,” Tricia said. She wasn’t sure she did, but right now Angelica needed positive reinforcement. Tricia took out the brown and white sugars, flour, baking powder, butter, and eggs, and arranged them on the counter while Angelica found an eight-inch-square baking pan.

“I’ll have to adjust the recipe for this size pan, but it’ll taste just as good as one done in a Bundt pan,” Angelica said, and turned to take the vegetable spray from a cupboard.

The kettle whistled, and Tricia made the tea, then got out of the way, letting Angelica take over. “Turn the oven on to three fifty, will you?” Angelica asked.

Tricia did so, and then poured them both a cup of tea. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Bob is a murderer.” She placed Angelica’s cup before her on the counter, but Angelica was too preoccupied to notice.

“Of course he’s not. But that means someone else is,” Angelica said as she measured flour into a bowl.

Tricia blew on the steaming tea to cool it. “I’m beginning to think it might be Russ,” Tricia said in jest.

“Really?” Angelica asked, intrigued, as she added baking powder to the bowl of flour.

“No.” Tricia wasn’t going to mention her thoughts about Jake—at least not yet. “But we almost had another run-in this evening. It was Darcy who saved me.”

“Darcy?” Angelica asked, and Tricia told her what had happened at the grocery store. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to deal with Russ,” Angelica said. “But right now, Bob is my main priority.” She put a stick of butter into a small bowl, put it in the microwave, set the the timer, and hit the Start button.

“Speaking of Bob, don’t you find it suspicious that this Nigela Ricita Associates shows up and buys the empty lot the day after it’s put on the market?” Tricia asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that. That it might actually be a good investment. Except for Jim, most of the booksellers were able to weather the financial meltdown without too much trouble.”

“But that building was a prime piece of real estate,” Tricia stressed.

The microwave dinged , and Angelica removed the bowl of melted butter. “Are you suggesting someone blew up the building to get Bob to sell?” Angelica asked.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“I don’t believe it. It’s too far-fetched. And who’s to say the property would be put up for sale? Although, if it had been the Armchair Tourist that had gone up instead, I could’ve expanded my operations at Booked for Lunch and had a place for al fresco dining.”

“You’re being terribly morbid.”

“I’m being realistic,” Angelica said, and cracked an egg into a bowl.

“I must admit I had the same idea,” Tricia said.

“And you call me morbid?” Angelica said in a huff. “Tell me more about the new buyer,” she said, grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer and beating the egg.

“I didn’t meet the buyer—just her representative. Antonio Barbero.”

“Barbero—wasn’t that the horse that broke its leg at the Kentucky Derby?”

“That was Barbaro—and it was at the Preakness. Believe me, there was nothing horsey about Antonio. Ginny’s quite smitten with him.”

Angelica waved a hand in dismissal. “She’ll get over him.” She thought about it for a moment. “She probably won’t. You’d think after what Brian did, she’d be off men forever.”

“Rod cheating on you didn’t make you swear off men.”

“More’s the pity. At least Ginny never married her scoundrel.” Angelica mixed brown sugar with a little flour.

“True, but she’s still facing credit problems that will dog her for years.”

“Oh, yeah, how’s that mortgage thing going?” Angelica asked, and poured the wet ingredients into the dry, stirring the mixture.

“Ginny’s been stalling. I don’t understand it.”

“Maybe she came to her senses. It’s not good for an employee to be so beholden to a boss. It wouldn’t be in her best interest in the long run.”

“Are you saying you think I’d take advantage of her sense of loyalty?”

“You, never. But she should always be open to opportunities, and let’s face it, ringing up mysteries isn’t going to get her that shop she wants.”

No, it wouldn’t. And neither would hanging on to the little cottage in the woods.

“Eventually, Ginny’s going to need to look for something that’s going to pay far more than even you can afford to give her. Or she’s going to have to marry well.” Angelica laughed. “Look what marrying well has done for me.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already thinking about marrying Antonio Barbero,” Tricia said, and sipped her tea.

Angelica shook her head. “Poor Ginny’s been alone for almost eight months, and let’s face it, the prospects of her finding someone here in Stoneham are slim. This guy probably seems heaven sent. That is, until he disappoints her.”

Tricia laughed. “She just met him, and already he’s breaking her heart?”

Angelica shrugged, and poured the batter into the prepared pan and sprinkled the brown sugar mixture over the top. “I’ve been down that road too many times myself. I know the signs.”

That was too depressing a subject to dive into yet again. Tricia changed the subject. “What are your plans for the morning?”

Angelica popped the coffee cake into the oven and set the timer. “Talk to Bob. Talk to the lawyer. And no doubt talk to Captain Baker. Or at least argue with him.”

“I’m a bit concerned about something you’ve already told him.”

Angelica picked up the dirty bowls and measuring equipment and set them in the sink. “What’s that?”

“That you could vouch for Frannie the afternoon Jim died.”

“Why are you concerned?” Angelica asked, running warm water into the bowls.

“Because you spent most of the day cooking for your launch party.”

“Don’t remind me of that fiasco,” Angelica said.

“I’m serious, Ange. What if this whole thing ends up in court? Can you swear on a Bible that Frannie never left the Cookery?”

Angelica opened her mouth to answer but said nothing, and turned back to the sink.

“Aha!”

“Don’t ‘aha’ me. Frannie wouldn’t leave the store unattended. I can swear to that.”

“It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”

“What am I supposed to do? Let my boyfriend or my employee go to jail? Somebody killed Jim Roth, and I don’t think it was either Bob or Frannie.”

“That leaves Jim’s mother.”

Angelica nodded vigorously. “You said she made a spectacle of herself at the memorial service. If she hated him so much, surely she had a motive to kill him.”

“Captain Baker says she’s got an alibi—her boyfriend.”

“Who could’ve lied,” Angelica countered.

“Like you did about Frannie?”

Angelica’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t lie. I made an educated assumption. And who’s to say there isn’t someone else out there who had a motive to kill Jim?”

“If there is, he or she hasn’t come forward.”

“And who wants to advertise themselves as a murderer?” Angelica asked.