Lorna Barrett - Murder Is Binding

Tricia's entire body tensed, but somehow she managed a weak smile. "Sorry, I can't stay too much longer."

"Your shop doesn't open for at least another two hours. That's plenty of time for us to get better acquainted," he said and moved a step closer

Tricia's already tense muscles went rigid. "I have a new employee I'm training today."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Everett."

"Oh, the old coot who's taken root in your store."

"He's a treasure," she said, feeling protective of the old gentleman. "He'll be a great asset at Haven't Got a Clue."

Mike turned away and set his mug back down on the tray. "You seem to be collecting men these days."

Tricia blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Last night when I walked to the municipal lot to get in my car, I saw you at the diner with Russ Smith," Mike said, a slight edge entering his voice. "That surprised me, especially after what he wrote about you. And what will people say about my girl being seen with another man?"

My girl? That's what Christopher always called her, and she'd liked the sound of the words-the emotions behind it. But coming from Mike, the words gave her a chill.

Tricia thought about the gaping hole in her shop window, the strength it had taken to heave the miniature boulder that had shattered it. Unease wormed through her as she realized how isolated the two of them were in the big vacant house. She swallowed down the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. "We've been out to lunch exactly one time, that hardly makes me 'your girl.'" She even managed a little laugh.

"Maybe I'd like to change that." Mike stepped closer, putting his hands around her and pulling her against him.

"Mike," she said, squirming in his embrace.

He didn't let go, his face hovering close to her own, his breath warm on her cheek.

"Mike," she said with more urgency.

He leaned in closer, brushing his lips across her neck.

Panicking, Tricia pulled her arms free and pushed against his chest. "Mike, please!"

He stumbled back, puzzled. "I'm sorry, Trish. I thought you were as attracted to me as I am to you."

"That's very flattering. It's just-" How do you tell someone he's just creeped you out?

"Ah," he said, a sympathetic lilt entering his voice. "Too soon after your divorce?"

"That's exactly it. And anyway, it's not like Russ and I are even friends. We only discussed Doris's murder, which quickly became tedious, believe me. And it wasn't a date. We each paid for our own dinners." She didn't mention Russ staying with her until the enclosure guys could show up. And why did she feel she owed him an explanation, anyway?

"Any new developments in the murder case?" Mike asked, with no real interest.

"Just that the stolen book's been found."

He raised an eyebrow. "That is news. Where was it?"

"In my store."

"That's not good."

"No, it isn't." Tricia picked up her purse. "Look, I really have to get back to the shop." She took a step back, but he reached out, capturing her arm in a strong grip.

"Are you sure you can't stay for another cup of coffee?"

Tricia forced a smile as she pried his fingers from her forearm. "Sorry. I really have to get going." She turned and practically ran from the room, then realized it would be bad manners to snatch her jacket from the closet and flee. Yet she stood for long seconds in the empty foyer and Mike didn't appear.

As time ticked on and still he didn't appear, she figured the heck with manners and wrenched open the closet door. She'd expected to find it stuffed with coats, scarves, hats, and boots, but hers was the only jacket amongst the row of dark wooden hangers. She grabbed her jacket, slammed shut the door, and turned to find Mike, hands in his pants pockets, slouched against the wall, watching her.

"Um, thank you," she stammered, "for the coffee."

"I wish you didn't have to leave."

"Me, too," she said too cheerfully, the lie obvious. She inched closer to the front door.

"Thanks for the advice about the books," Mike said, his voice sounding oddly composed.

"You're more than welcome. Glad I could be of help." She had her hand on the door handle, turned it, and found it locked. Panicked, she pulled at it, fumbling for the lever.

A hand touched hers and she shrieked and jumped back.

"Calm down, calm down," Mike soothed and stepped forward.

Tricia backed away, afraid he might come after her. Instead, he flipped the dead bolt, pulled the door open. Fresh air and the sunny morning poured into the foyer once again. Tricia zipped past Mike and onto the step outside. The tightness in her chest relaxed a bit and she felt like an absolute idiot for her behavior. She turned back. Mike stood in the open doorway, looking concerned.

Tricia forced a smile. "See you in town." Her tone almost sounded normal.

Mike stared at her for long seconds, his face impassive, then nodded and closed the door.

Frozen in time, Tricia stared for long seconds at the barrier between the real world and the stifling air of the lifeless house before she turned and hurried down the steps, letting out a whoosh of air as she went.

It wasn't until she'd driven a block away that she felt anywhere near calm again.

Tricia welcomed the return to the familiar surroundings at Haven't Got a Clue. True to form, Mr. Everett had been waiting outside the locked door for her. As expected, he was full of questions and concerned about the boarded-up shop.

"We will open today, won't we?" he asked, anxiously, as she unlocked the door.

"Yes, although it does seem awfully dark in here. We'll have to turn on all the lights. Let me hang up our coats and we'll get started."

It soothed the last of Tricia's jagged nerves to walk Mr. Everett through the daily tasks, and it turned out he'd been observant during all the months he'd visited the store as a customer who never purchased anything. He probably knew everything about the daily routine except the combination to the little safe under the counter.

During the three hours the store was open they shelved four boxes of books, waited on fifteen customers, and sold seventeen novels. Not bad for what was usually her slowest day. They also found another twenty-two nudist leaflets. Who on Earth had been stashing them around the store, and why hadn't they caught the culprit?

Staying busy kept Tricia from thinking too much about her panic at being at the Harris home alone with Mike. Then again, too often lately she'd been employing a selective memory-especially when it came to what could be her future. And why had she ever agreed to go house hunting with Angelica?

True to her word, Angelica showed up at precisely 3 p.m., honking the car horn outside Haven't Got a Clue. Anticipating her sister's arrival, Tricia had closed a few minutes early, stuffed the day's receipts in the safe, waved good-bye to Mr. Everett, and was ready to go when the rental car pulled up out front.

"That stupid out-of-state car is still parked in front of your store," Angelica said in greeting, glaring at the offending vehicle.

Tricia buckled her seat belt as a horn blasted behind them.

Angelica hit the gas and the car lurched forward. "The shop looks dreadful. Couldn't you at least have that plywood painted to match the rest of the storefront?"

"It'll only be there another day."

"It's not likely to entice customers. You look dreadful, too, Trish. Those dark circles under your eyes are really unbecoming."

Tricia bit her tongue to keep from blurting a scathing retort.

Oblivious of her sister's pique, Angelica continued. "I have big news. I won!"

"Won what?" Tricia asked, glad for the change of subject.

"The parlay on Deborah Black's baby. He was born last night at eight thirty-seven p.m."

"How did you even know about it?"