Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

“I wouldn’t say hate. More profound disappointment.”

“You won’t find me crying tears for her.”

No, Tricia was sure she wouldn’t.

“You must have some other clue about this mysterious woman who was seeing Jim.”

“Tricia, I just don’t know. Why don’t you ask Bob Kelly?”

“Why?”

“Because Jim said Bob knew the woman, too—a long time ago.”

“If that was true, why hasn’t Bob said anything to Captain Baker about it?”

Frannie shrugged. “I’m not sure that Bob even knew about her and Jim.”

And how many other women had Bob had a serious relationship with during his adult life? Five? Ten? More? Who said it had to be an adult relationship? Bob had gone to high school in Stoneham. Had he been a teenaged lothario? Try as she might, Tricia couldn’t imagine that.

The bell over the door rang as a soggy customer entered the Cookery. “Welcome,” Frannie greeted with a smile. “Let me know if you need any help.”

The woman nodded, and moseyed along the north bookshelves.

Frannie cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Did you hear they’re going to announce the winner of the Powerball lottery this evening at the convenience store up by the highway?”

Tricia shook her head.

“Should be a big crowd. I’m going. I mean—what else have I got to do on a Monday night? How about you?”

Tricia shook her head. “It’s not my kind of thing.”

“Suit yourself.”

Tricia looked at her watch. “I’d better get going.”

“Do you want me to bring the day’s receipts over tonight?”

Tricia felt weary just thinking of her long to-do list. She really did need to make a bank run for herself and Angelica, along with everything else on her to-do list. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. See you later, then,” Frannie said, and moved away from the counter, heading in the direction of her customer. “What kind of cooking do you like to do?”

Tricia exited the Cookery, but felt in no hurry to return to Haven’t Got a Clue. She really should go see Bob, but had to make the banking a priority. Angelica had hinted Bob had been withdrawn for months leading up to Jim’s death. Tricia didn’t believe Bob was responsible for the explosion, but he was definitely hiding something. Something he didn’t want anyone to know about. He hadn’t told Angelica, the person he was closest to, nor Captain Baker, and presumably he’d been just as tight-lipped with his new lawyer. How was Tricia going to get him to open up and tell her whatever it was he’d been hiding?

Was there a possibility that Bob and Jim had both been cheating—and with the same woman?

There was only one way to find out: confront Bob with the evidence. The only problem was, she didn’t have any.

Before Tricia could get her deposit slips filled out, a Granite State tourist bus drove down Main Street and let off forty or more potential customers, the bulk of whom seemed to land on Haven’t Got a Clue’s doorstep. Without Mr. Everett, there was no way Ginny could keep up with the onslaught on her own, and Tricia resigned herself to staying put for the time being.

By the time the crowd had thinned and the sun had come out, Tricia seized the opportunity to try to track down Bob. There was no answer at his house, his business, or his cell phone. And Betsy Dittmeyer at the Chamber of Commerce told Tricia she hadn’t seen or heard from Bob. Could he have skipped town? Not likely—not when all his assets were tied up in Stoneham. She’d have to try again later. In the meantime, she needed to get some money into Haven’t Got a Clue’s checking account so she could pay bills.

“I’ve got to go to the bank,” Tricia told Ginny, and dumped her own and Angelica’s blue bank pouches into a sturdy Haven’t Got a Clue shopping bag. She grabbed her purse and flew out the door. She hadn’t gone two feet when she saw Russ Smith standing outside of the Cookery, his Nikon camera slung around his neck, snapping pictures of Angelica’s life-sized cutout. This time, it was decked out in a colorful paper Hawaiian lei and a grass hula skirt. There could be only one citizen in all of Stoneham who owned such attire.

Tricia marched up to Russ, startling him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking pictures. What else?”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because it’s funny. I’ve got pictures of all the goofy getups this thing has worn.”

“And what do you intend to do with them? Put them in your cheap little rag?”

“Hey, that’s my paper—my pride and joy—you’re talking about.”

“I don’t care what you call it—especially when you’re trying to make a laughingstock of my sister.”

Russ jabbed his index finger at the cutout. “ This is news.”

“No, wars are news. This is—”

“Advertising,” Russ finished for her. “When I print the pictures, they’ll be worth thousands in free PR for Angelica.”

“I forbid you to use those pictures.”

Russ shook his head. “The First Amendment is on my side, sweetheart. But”—he softened his voice—“I might reconsider my full-page treatment if a certain author’s sister were to grant me certain favors. . . .”

Tricia’s anger smoldered. “You are despicable. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

Russ raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment, then he took more photos of the cutout.

Tricia turned, yanked open the door to the Cookery, and stomped inside.

Frannie was at the cash desk with a customer, preventing Tricia from exploding on the spot. Frannie acknowledged her presence with a nervous smile, but continued to chatter with the woman.

Tricia waited impatiently as Frannie and the woman talked, Talked, TALKED for at least another minute. At last the woman seemed to realize Tricia was there. “Oh, I’ve monopolized your time something terrible,” she told Frannie. “I’ll let you help this other person now.”

“Oh, no,” Frannie called as the woman turned to leave, “Tricia isn’t a customer. She’s just Tricia.”

“Thanks a lot,” Tricia said.

But the woman waved good-bye and headed out the door.

Once she was gone, Frannie gave another nervous laugh. “What was it you wanted?”

“To know why you lied to me.”

“Lie? Me?” Frannie said innocently.

“Yes, about the sombrero, the goofy glasses, and the cat’s cradle.”

“I didn’t lie to you. At the time I didn’t know who decorated Angelica’s cutout.”

“And now you do?” Tricia demanded.

“It turns out some of the other merchants were playing a game decorating the cutout. The first time, it was Deborah Black. She had parts of her husband’s Halloween costume in the back of her store and on a whim decided to decorate the cutout. The next day, it was Joyce Widman over at Have a Heart. And then Nikki took a stab at it.”

“And today it was you.”

Frannie’s nervous laugh was beginning to bug Tricia. “Yeah. But it’s all for a good cause. Russ Smith has taken pictures of all of them. He said he’ll give the Cookery and Angelica’s book a full-page spread in the next issue of the Stoneham Weekly News .”

“That’s what he said, but he’s angry at me and now he’s going to take it out on Angelica—to make her a laughingstock in front of the whole village.”

Frannie waved her hands frantically. “No, no—it’s not like that. I called Angelica and let her know about it. She’s fine with it. She said there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

Tricia could do nothing but stand there and seethe. Frannie continued, “It’s brilliant. Since the cutout went outside, it’s attracted a lot of attention. We’ve almost sold out the first two cases of Easy-Does-It Cooking , and I’ve had to reorder the book. Angelica will get writer’s cramp from signing all those copies.”