Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

Mrs. Roth nodded, and handed the check back to Tricia. “I can’t take this money. I’m sure there are more deserving souls. Perhaps it could do something for the good people of Stoneham who aren’t as fortunate as you and me.”

“The Stoneham Food Shelf can always use donations.”

“James didn’t have much use for charity—it would be lovely that something good could come as a result of his death, something to help others in some way.”

Tricia accepted the check. “I’ll pay a visit to Libby Hirt at the Food Shelf on my way back to my store. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful.”

“You do that, dear.”

Mrs. Roth led Tricia to the door. “Thank you for helping me these last few days. It’s good to know James had a few good friends—even if he never knew or appreciated it.”

Mrs. Roth closed the door. Although the rain had eased to just a drizzle, a troubled Tricia opened her umbrella anyway, and slowly headed back to her car. Reasonable doubt? She had no doubt at all—there was no way she’d ever be convinced Livvie Roth had killed her own son.

That left her with either Bob or Frannie in the role of murderer, something she couldn’t believe or accept.

There was only one other possibility. Someone else killed Jim Roth. And either Frannie or Bob had to know who that person was.

Frannie had been forthcoming about her relationship with Jim. Okay, not how and when it had ended, but that she’d had a relationship with him. Then again, it was only Tricia she’d confided in about her affair with Jim. She hadn’t been happy when Tricia had told Captain Baker about it, and she’d been mortified when Mrs. Roth had told the Chamber membership about it. Why? There had to be more to the story than Frannie had told her.

Tricia lowered her umbrella and got in her car, setting the damp bumbershoot on the passenger-side floor. She put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the car. Something Mrs. Roth said niggled at her brain. Jim had started gambling again—some three months ago. What had caused him to resume his addiction? Had his and Frannie’s relationship started to crumble at about the same time? She’d said they’d been talking about marriage some three months before all that. What had happened to change that?

Tricia started the car, checked the mirrors, and pulled out into the street. There was only one person who could answer those questions for her: Frannie.

Some days the rain brought people out to shop. That Monday morning wasn’t one of them. Tricia parked her car in the municipal lot, opened her umbrella once again, headed for the Cookery, and didn’t pass another soul on the street.

As Tricia suspected, the Cookery was devoid of customers. The demented Angelica cutout stood behind the counter, no doubt because of the inclement weather. A red-eyed Frannie sat behind the counter with what she’d called a comfort read—an old Nancy Drew book she’d bought at Haven’t Got a Clue the day before Jim’s death, The Clue of the Broken Locket. It had been a bargain because it had lost its dust jacket, and Frannie had probably bought it to help her through the days after being dumped.

“Tricia,” Frannie said in greeting, and put an Easy-Does-It Cooking bookmark between the pages to mark her place. “What brings you out in the rain?”

“I’ve just been to see Jim’s mother.”

Frannie’s lips pursed, and she slammed the book onto the counter. “If I never see that horrible old witch again, it’ll be too—”

Tricia held up a hand to stave off the flow of vitriol. “Frannie, please listen to what I have to say. It’s important.”

“Oh, all right,” Frannie acquiesced, but with bad grace.

“Mrs. Roth said Jim had had a gambling problem in the past, but that he had licked it. Or she thought he had, until about three months ago. Was that about the same time your relationship with Jim changed?”

Frannie looked away. “That’s kind of an embarrassing question, Tricia.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Frannie, but wouldn’t you rather tell me than Captain Baker?”

“But you’ll have to tell him about it, and then he’ll come to me for confirmation anyway.”

“That’s true. But maybe by then it won’t hurt so much to talk about it.”

Frannie bit her lip, and considered Tricia’s words. She sighed. “I guess you’re right.” It took her a few moments to compose herself. “Back in March, Jim did start acting funny.”

“Funny? How?” Tricia asked.

“He started ignoring my calls. He started being busy during ‘our time.’ ”

“When was that?”

“Friday evenings. He used to come to my house on Fridays. We’d have dinner and then we’d. . . .” She let the sentence trail off. She didn’t need to spell it out for Tricia.

“Did you suspect he might be seeing someone else?”

“Maybe. I didn’t want to confront him in case . . . in case he dumped me.”

“Oh, Frannie,” Tricia said, and felt the same sympathy she did for every other friend—and Angelica—who’d confessed to her that their significant other had strayed. She was lucky her ex-husband Christopher had never cheated on her. That hadn’t stopped him from leaving her to find peace in a life of solitude in the Colorado Rockies, and it had hurt just as much.

“Do you think he was gambling?” Tricia said, sidestepping the fidelity issue.

Frannie nodded. “Jim got all his mail at his store. Two weeks ago, I sneaked a peek at his VISA bill and saw the Foxwoods Casino in Connecticut listed. He’d closed the shop and gone out of town for a day last month, supposedly on a buying trip. Or at least that’s what he told me.” Her bottom lip trembled. “There was also an item from the Milford Florist Shop. He didn’t send me any flowers, and his mother’s birthday is in August.”

“Is that all your evidence?”

“Getting dumped pretty much confirmed it.”

“What did Jim say? That he’d found someone else?” Tricia pressed.

Frannie shrugged. “More or less. I was certainly surprised to learn that his mother knew about us.”

Tricia didn’t want to go into that territory. “If Jim was seeing someone else, is there a chance this woman might have had a reason for killing him?”

Frannie looked up sharply. “But why?”

“Maybe she was just as unhappy knowing Jim hadn’t broken off with you—until just days before his death.”

“Maybe,” Frannie admitted. “But he didn’t have to dump me. I was prepared to . . . to share him.”

“Oh, Frannie, did you really want to be with someone who cheated on you?”

“Who else has even looked at me in the last twenty years?” Frannie said with a sob. “I’m tired of being alone, Tricia. Apart from getting my cat, Penny, being with Jim—even on a part-time basis—has been the best part of my life these last two years.”

At least a cat won’t betray you , Tricia thought, but didn’t voice that opinion.

They needed to move on from that subject. “What else do you know about Jim’s life away from History Repeats Itself?”

“Not much. He watched the Military Channel. He read a lot. And he went to Gamblers Anonymous meetings.”

Tricia’s eyes widened. “Even though he’d started gambling again?”

Frannie nodded.

“Where? And when?” Tricia asked.

“Tuesday evenings, in a church in Nashua. He wouldn’t say exactly where. I think that’s where he met that other woman. And by the looks of that credit card bill, he’d started gambling again. Maybe his mother was afraid he’d bleed her dry—and that murder would get him out of her hair. You could tell by the way she spoke about him at the memorial that she hated him.”