Lorna Barrett - Chapter & Hearse

She folded her phone and put it in her slacks pocket.

What constituted “harm’s way,” anyway? Surely not opening a door and peeking inside her sister’s shop.

Tricia sorted through her keys once more, came up with the one that opened the Cookery, and placed it in the lock. She opened the door slowly. The inside of the shop was dim. Frannie had apparently forgotten to flip on the switch for the security lighting before leaving.

Or someone had flipped the switch off.

Tricia’s hand tightened on the door handle. She felt like one of those bimbos in a mystery novel, the ones who walked into darkened alleys, basements, or attics where an armed serial killer lurked. If she walked inside, she might be in harm’s way. Or she might just find that Frannie had forgotten to turn on the security lights.

She took a step forward. The light switch was just inside on the left. She needed to turn the lights on so Angelica wouldn’t walk into the darkened store.

She took another step forward, squinting as her gaze swept across the empty shop. The store was eerily silent. Angelica’s life-sized cutout, still clad in the hula skirt and paper lei, stood just ahead of her on the right.

She took another step forward and reached for the switch.

A sudden movement to her right startled Tricia as the Angelica cutout rushed toward her.

She stumbled off balance as the cutout shoved her to the ground. The door slammed, and Tricia crawled backward crablike, farther into the store.

“Stop it! Stop!” she hollered.

The cutout stopped moving. It was then that Tricia saw the lacquered nails and silver rings on the fingers holding the cutout upright.

“What are you doing here, Darcy?”

Darcy poked her head around the left side of the cutoff. “Looks just like Angelica, doesn’t it? Demented. Delusional. Soon to be departed.”

For some reason, Tricia wasn’t afraid of dumpy little Darcy—despite what she suspected the woman had done. She struggled to her feet. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Duh! I’m waiting for Angelica.”

“How did you get in?”

“Through the door. How else?”

“How did you get through the locked door?”

“I have a key. I have a copy of all Angelica’s keys. I’ve been in her bedroom. She’s got a lot of nail polish. Why doesn’t she get her nails done professionally? She can afford it more than I can.”

Tricia could imagine all Angelica’s nail polish bottles spilled or smashed on her rugs and bedspread. A malicious little prank pulled by a malicious little slob.

“We could dance around what you’re doing here, but why waste time? Why are you jealous of Angelica, and why have you been stalking her?”

Darcy’s grin was wolfish. “Stalking her? Me? I’m not a stalker, I’m a fan. I’ve been to at least half of her book signings.”

“But you didn’t go inside the bookstores. Instead, you waited outside, slashing her tires, breaking her headlights, and keying the paint on her car. Calling Angelica a fat bitch by ruining the paint on her driver’s door doesn’t sound like the work of a fan to me. And have you looked in the mirror lately, Darcy? You might benefit from a diet yourself.”

“Shut up, bitch! Skinny broads like you always have an edge over people like me. You get all the breaks.”

“Hard work got me my breaks.” That and a nice fat inheritance, plus a generous divorce settlement—but she wasn’t about to go into that.

Tricia bent down to pick up her purse, but Darcy spoke up. “Uh-uh-uh! Leave that stuff on the floor.”

“I have a call in to Captain Baker of the Sheriff’s Department. He’ll be here any minute now, looking to talk to me about—of all things—you.”

“You’re lying.”

Tricia shrugged, hoping Darcy wouldn’t notice the sweat that had broken out on her forehead.

“While we wait, we can talk about Bob Kelly and Jim Roth—and why you’ve already killed once, and tried to kill again.”

“I’m not one of the blabbermouths in those stupid mysteries you read—the ones who go on and on confessing their guilt. And I don’t need to, because I’ve done nothing wrong.”

The woman was either in denial or had no scruples, but maybe Tricia could buy some time by talking through the points that had been coalescing in her mind. “Let’s talk about Jim Roth. Why did you want him dead?”

“Why would I want him dead? I didn’t know him.”

“There are only so many meetings of Gamblers Anonymous in Nashua. I’m sure the Sheriff’s Department will be able to prove the two of you attended meetings together.”

“There’s a reason they’re anonymous —nobody snitches,” Darcy said with a sneer.

“The two of you were dating. I’ll bet the surveillance cameras at Foxwoods Casino caught the two of you together. Jim used his credit card, proving he was there.”

Darcy’s sneer wavered.

“What happened? Did he reconsider his promise to drop Frannie?”

“That skinny hag,” Darcy grated. “She’s at least fifteen years older than me.”

“And what about Bob Kelly? The two of you had been together in the past, but his taste in women had improved over the years. He’d long ago given up bologna for Angus steak.”

Darcy’s mouth twisted into a frown. She might not be blabbing about her motives, but her expression was confirming everything Tricia said. She pushed on.

“But while you were dating Jim, you were two-timing him with Bob.”

“So much for Angus beef,” Darcy said, and the sneer was back.

“But then he realized what you were and what he stood to lose with Angelica, so he broke it off. Now you had no one, and a crappy job waiting tables in a hick town. Not much of a life,” Tricia said.

“You don’t know anything,” Darcy muttered.

“You were so angry,” Tricia went on, “that when you saw Bob and Jim together last Wednesday at History Repeats Itself, you decided to take action. Not something overt that might cast suspicion your way, so you went behind the store and loosened the connection on his gas meter. You knew Jim would eventually come outside for a cigarette, and then— boom !”

“There was no boom! It hardly made a noise at all. It was the glass shattering and the ceiling falling in that made all the noise.”

“I didn’t see you in the crowd on the sidewalk, but you had to be there. You had to see the ambulance take Bob to the hospital in Nashua. When you learned he wasn’t badly hurt, you decided to expand your little reign of terror, and include Angelica in your plan for revenge.”

Darcy didn’t comment.

“You tried to run her over outside the hospital that night. That was your first attempt to get rid of her.”

“Pure conjecture,” Darcy said.

Tricia hadn’t thought Darcy’s vocabulary was that evolved. “You made sure you left work on time or early every day so you could chase all over New England after Angelica. You let Bob know what you were doing, but he didn’t believe you because Angelica didn’t tell him about the incidents.”

Darcy’s mouth had pursed once more.

“Why did you try to kill Bob? Or were you just trying to scare him into taking you back? Not a very clever plan, but then, were you ever able to acquire your GED?”

“That’s it,” Darcy said, finally losing her temper. “Get in that chair.” She pointed to the only upholstered chair Angelica had provided for her customers.

“Going to tie me up?” Tricia asked. “With what?”

Darcy’s mouth dropped open, but then abruptly shut again.

“You’re right—I don’t need to tie you up. I have a gun,” Darcy said, and withdrew it from the pocket of her slacks. It looked like a toy, barely bigger than the size of her hand. But Tricia knew even a small handgun could do deadly damage if the shooter hit the target in just the right place.