Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

“What do you have planned for the cutout’s next costume?” Tricia asked, still finding it hard to keep the anger out of her voice.

“That’ll be up to Alexa over at the Coffee Bean. All the booksellers are going to take a turn. Russ is hoping he can interest another paper in the story and pictures. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.”

“We’re no longer friends,” Tricia said through gritted teeth.

“Tricia, life is too short to carry grudges. I’m alone now, and I hate it. You’ve still got a chance to reconcile with Russ—”

Tricia’s anger boiled over, but somehow she managed not to explode. “I’m going to the bank,” she said in a strangled voice, turned on her heel, and left the Cookery. Thank goodness Russ had already disappeared, for Tricia was almost certain she would have cheerfully strangled him on the spot.

It had taken several hours for Tricia’s temper to cool completely. It helped to look out Haven’t Got a Clue’s big display window and see the lovely hanging baskets on the lampposts. She had no green thumb but wondered if she should pay a visit to The Milford Nursery to find something low-maintenance and pretty for the shop—maybe an orchid or two, in homage to Nero Wolfe.

Tricia was lost in thought when Jake walked in the door at two forty-five with the blue bank bag in one hand, and an attitude that spelled trouble. Thankfully, there were no customers near the cash desk when he tossed the bag on the counter.

Tricia’s ire flared again. “Do you have to be so rude?”

“When it comes to dealing with you, I have to work at it,” Jake said.

“Look, just because I worry about my sister hiring an ex-con doesn’t make me public enemy number one. I think you had that title wrapped up when you went to jail for attempted murder.”

“I admit trying to kill the scumbag who raped my nine-year-old niece wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I—”

“Nine years old?” Tricia repeated, incredulous.

“Yeah. Things like that tend to rile me. Otherwise, I’m usually a pretty easygoing guy. Pity you’re too biased to give someone like me a second chance. Thank goodness there are people like your sister around. You could take a lesson from her.”

But I’m the GOOD sister , Tricia wanted to shout, and immediately felt like a heel. She took a breath to calm herself. “What did you do to the guy who hurt your niece?”

“I beat him to a pulp. He got three years in jail for raping Emily. I got nine. What kind of justice is that, oh Lady of Mystery?”

Tricia wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She swallowed. “You have to understand, Angelica is my sister. I care about her.”

“Like I cared about my niece?”

How far would I go to protect someone I loved? Tricia asked herself. She wasn’t sure how to answer that question, either.

“Look, I know you don’t approve of what I did thirteen years ago,” Jake began. “In retrospect, I don’t approve of it, either. But I’m not the same person I was then—and I suspect you could probably say that about yourself, too.”

Yes. She could.

“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” he apologized. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt your sister, her business, or the entire village of Stoneham. It doesn’t matter whether you believe me, I just needed to tell you that. Now, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said, and turned for the door.

“Wait,” Tricia called after him. Jaw set, Jake turned back to face her. She felt a flush rising from her neck to her cheeks. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

For a long—very long—moment, Jake just stood there. Then he said, quietly, “I accept your apology.”

Tricia’s flush deepened. She swallowed. “Maybe we should start all over again.” She took a deep, calming breath and thrust her hand in Jake’s direction. “Hello, I’m Tricia. Welcome to Haven’t Got a Clue.”

Jake looked at her offered hand for what seemed like eons, then he stepped forward and clasped it—not too hard—and they shook on it. “I’m Jake Masters. Nice to meet you.”

The door to Haven’t Got a Clue opened, making the bell overhead tinkle, and Darcy Gebhard entered. “What’s taking you so long?” she asked Jake, irritated.

Jake withdrew his hand from Tricia’s, looking embarrassed.

“Hi, Darcy,” Tricia said.

“Oh, hi. Everything work out okay for you at the grocery store the other night?”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“Good. We’d better get going, Jake,” Darcy said.

Tricia looked at the two of them quizzically.

“Her car’s in the shop. I’m giving her a lift,” Jake said.

“Yeah, he’s a regular taxi driver,” Darcy said. She didn’t sound all that appreciative, considering Jake was doing her a favor. Tricia frowned. How ironic that five minutes ago she wouldn’t have cared, but now that she knew a bit more about Jake, Darcy’s attitude annoyed her.

“Let’s go,” Darcy said, and opened the door.

“See you,” Jake said, and followed her.

Ginny wandered up to the cash desk. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.” It was all too complicated to explain.

It was after five by the time Tricia had a chance to dial Bob’s various telephone numbers. Not surprisingly, only recorded messages greeted her. She left messages on all three, but doubted she’d hear from Bob anytime soon. He could be stubborn when he wanted—which was most of the time.

The rest of the afternoon dragged. Ginny disappeared to the stock room to work on the inventory, and Tricia and Miss Marple were left alone to handle the last few stragglers who came in looking for something to read—and not finding it.

Ginny reappeared just a few minutes before the store’s official closing, looking triumphant. “I’ve got all the boxes unpacked and the books shelved, so we’re just about caught up on the inventory.”

“Sounds like a cause for celebration. How about I treat you to dinner at the Bookshelf Diner?” Tricia said.

“The winner of the New Hampshire Powerball lottery is going to be announced this evening at the convenience store. I’d really like to find out who it is. Could we go there first and then have dinner? It’ll only be half an hour delay,” Ginny said.

“Why not?” Tricia agreed. “It’s not like I have a date or anything else to keep me home.”

Ginny ran the vacuum over the carpet while Tricia tallied up the day’s receipts and locked them in the safe. A contrite Frannie showed up just after seven with the Cookery’s receipts. Tricia made no mention of their previous discussion, and could hardly object when Ginny invited Frannie to accompany them to the convenience store. Ginny made a show of jingling her keys and offered to do the driving honors.

The convenience store’s parking lot was maxed out, and Ginny parked her car on the side of the road, behind a long line of others. “We’ll have to hoof it,” she said, and opened the driver’s-side door. Tricia and Frannie followed her down the road and into the store, which was packed with people. Tricia recognized many Chamber of Commerce members, and of course the Dexter twins with their ever-present petition. Tricia had lived in Stoneham for two years, and had never met them until a few days before—now they seemed to be everywhere.

The elusive Bob was also in attendance, looking uncomfortable in one of his green Kelly Real Estate jackets. Tricia’d have to corner him after the announcement. She was surprised to see a keyed-up Grace and the ever-placid Mr. Everett standing on the sidelines. Grace gave Tricia a quick wave. Russ stood among the throng of TV reporters and cameramen, his Nikon dangling from his neck once again, and clutching a steno pad. (Did he buy them by the case?) He gave Tricia a tentative smile, but she turned away without acknowledging him.