Lorna Barrett - Bookmarked For Death

Fiona gazed at her watch. “And I’ve got an interview in less than half an hour. Tricia, that friend of yours, Portia McAlister, wants to make me the feature on her newscast tonight, talking about how I wrote the Jess and Addie books, and what I think of all that’s happened in the last week.”

“That ought to give your Bonnie Chesterfield series a push, too,” Tricia said.

Fiona laughed. “At the very least, I’m determined to prove that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

The door opened yet again, this time admitting Artemus Hamilton, whose leather-gloved hand held Kimberly’s.

Her face was still swollen and bruised, but her toothless smile would’ve brightened a cold, dark night.

“Tri-ah,” Kimberly managed, “Oo loo li me.”

“Not too much talking, now,” Hamilton warned her gently. “Kimberly got released from the hospital first thing this morning, and we made a stop before coming here,” he said.

Kimberly pulled off her left glove. “-ook!” She wiggled her hand, showing off what was probably a two-carat diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. “An Ar-ie’s gonna sell my ook.”

“I’m going to try,” he said, glancing at her with fondness, seeing past her temporary ugliness to the beautiful soul beyond.

“Would you like a muffin?” Angelica said, proffering the plate.

Kimberly shook her head.

“For now, she can only drink room temperature liquids,” Hamilton explained.

“An -oy, am I -ungry,” she said, laughing.

“I have some good news for you, too, Ms. Miles.”

“For me?” Tricia said.

He shook his head, then turned to look at Angelica. “I read your manuscript yesterday. It’s well done. There’s a market out there for time-stressed working women who want to feed their families healthy foods. I think I could sell it—at least, I’d like to try.”

“Well, of course you would,” Angelica said, her smile as wide as Tricia had ever seen it, and she gave her sister an “I told you so” glance.

“We’ll need to talk more about it, and you’ll need to do some rewriting before I can start rounding it to publishers. But it doesn’t have to happen today. I’ll give you a call early next week.”

“You have my number,” Angelica said brightly.

“I’ve got a question,” Russ said, directing his gaze to Kimberly. “The night you were attacked, you said the word ‘stone’ to Tricia. Did Steve Fenton tell you that was the name of the author of the Jess and Addie books, or were you talking about the desecrated statue?”

“Boph,” she said. “He hur- me—hittin- me. Saying I wou- pay for wha- happen to Fayfe Thone.”

“The thing is,” Hamilton said, “Kimberly didn’t have a clue who Fenton was talking about.”

“I’m so sorry he put you through that,” Fiona said.

“I sorry my aun- -tole you wok. Fo- a lon- time, I din know.”

“Everyone thought you were dead,” Hamilton added.

“That doesn’t make it right, but I do understand,” Fiona said.

Ginny brought over a tray of Haven’t Got a Clue paper coffee cups, the carafe, sugar, and cream, setting it all down on the nook’s table. She picked up a cup, raising it into the air. “Why don’t we all cheer up?” she suggested. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate this morning.”

“I sure do,” Angelica said.

The door opened yet again, this time admitting Frannie Armstrong. “Come on, boss, we’ve got a store to open,” she said, her smile so wide it showed off most of her teeth.

“Boss?” Tricia asked, in awe.

Frannie entered the store, closing the door behind her.

“In a minute,” Angelica told Frannie. She picked up the carafe, poured coffee into all the cups. “Bob and I had a long discussion last night after we left the hospital.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I don’t know what I see in that man.”

Amen , Tricia felt like echoing; instead, she bit her tongue.

“When I found out what he was actually paying Frannie, I knew I could do better, and even give her benefits. I called her last night the minute I got home. Woke her from a sound sleep, too.”

“But that was one call I was glad to take,” Frannie said.

“What about the Chamber?” Russ asked. “Who’ll be manning the reception desk?”

“I offered to give Bob two weeks’ notice, but he seemed in rather a big hurry to get rid of me. So much for a decade of dedicated service.” Frannie shrugged. “I start today at the Cookery.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re supposed to open in twelve minutes, Angelica. Don’t you think we ought to be going?”

Before Angelica could answer, the door opened once again. “It worked, Tricia, it worked!” Bob called, his voice jubilant. Then he caught sight of his former employee standing in the middle of the crowd, and his face fell. “What’s going on?”

“Just a gathering of friends,” Angelica answered. “And what worked?”

Bob tore his gaze from Frannie, focusing his attention on Tricia. “Wow, you look terrible.”

“Thanks, Bob.”

“I just stopped by to tell you your suggestion about introducing swans to the geese worked. When I couldn’t come up with a live swan, I bought four or five decoys. Yesterday afternoon I installed them around the pond in the park. I haven’t seen a goose since. I’ve called the Stoneham Golf Course and the Board of Selectmen. They’re going to install swan decoys at every place the geese gather. That ought to fix them. And it’s a happy ending for everybody.”

Except that the geese would just move to other wetlands. Oh, well. That wasn’t Stoneham’s problem.

Ginny raised her cup once again. “We’ve all got something to celebrate this morning. I want to propose a toast.”

She turned and faced her boss. “To Tricia.”

“Me? What for?”

“For solving a murder,” Ginny said.

Fiona raised her cup, gazing fondly at Nikki. “For reuniting a mother and daughter.”

Angelica handed her new employee a cup. “For helping me get a new job,” Frannie said.

“And me a new employee,” Angelica said. “Not to mention my new literary agent.”

“For giving me an exclusive,” Russ said.

“For not firing me,” Mr. Everett said.

“For brin-ee Ar-ie to me,” Kimberly said.

“And making me realize how much I cared for Kimberly,” Hamilton confirmed.

“For telling us how to get rid of the geese,” Bob said.

Tricia took in the smiling faces of all her friends, a lump rising in her throat. “Oh, well,” she stammered. “If that’s all, then.” She raised her own cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

1½ to 2 pounds large shrimp (about 16 to 24), peeled and deveined

1⁄3 cup clarified butter or olive oil

2 cloves minced garlic (I often toss in more)

6 green onions, thinly sliced

1⁄3 cup dry white wine or vermouth

2 tablespoons lemon juice, fresh if possible

3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

salt and pepper, to taste

Rinse shrimp and set aside. (If they’re frozen, defrost them first.) Heat butter or oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic; cook 1 or 2 minutes or until softened; do not brown. Add shrimp, green onions, wine, and lemon juice. Cook until shrimp are pink, about 1 to 2 minutes on each side. Sprinkle with parsley and salt and pepper.

Serve over linguini or your favorite pasta.

Serves 4.

6½ cups chicken stock

½ chipotle chili, seeded

4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts