Book Clubbed

“I came over to help a friend, but I guess we can’t even claim that anymore, can we?”

“I consider you a friend, but not a close one.”

“Then good night, acquaintance.”

Tricia unlocked the door and held it open for him. He went through it and she shut and locked it before he could change his mind—or she could change hers.

TEN

As soon as Tricia saw that Christopher had returned to his own apartment, she stepped over to the cash desk and picked up the heavy receiver of the circa 1930s telephone that she kept in homage to the golden age of noir pulp mysteries. It seemed to take forever for the old rotary-dial phone to co

“Ange, I went through some of those Chamber files you sent to me.”

“What did you find?” she asked, sounding distracted.

“It seems that Betsy had sticky fingers when it came to managing the Chamber’s funds.”

“Are you kidding me?” Angelica asked, sounding both astonished and angry.

“No. In fact, I asked Christopher to come over and have a look. He suggests we sue her estate to try and get the money back.”

“That cheating little bitch,” Angelica muttered tersely.

“Don’t go saying that to anyone else. It might just make them think you had a motive for killing her.”

“I don’t think so,” Angelica declared. “For one thing, it wasn’t my money. And for another, I have an ironclad alibi.”

“Yeah, and it’s the same as mine and Fra

“That man exasperates me,” Angelica groused.

“He’s exasperated me for over two years.”

Angelica sighed. “How much money are we talking about?”

“At a bare minimum—ten grand.”

“Oh, dear.” Tricia had a feeling Angelica had had to bite her tongue to keep from saying what involved a multitude of swear words. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tomorrow you should call Christopher. He said it would be a conflict of interest for him to do the audit, since he was Betsy’s financial advisor, but that he could help us find someone to go over the books.”

“Thank goodness for that. By the way, did you know that they’re supposed to a

“And Grant is a stickler for following the rules,” Tricia agreed.

“Oh, I know what I forgot to ask you. What’s this I heard about a surprise birthday party for Mr. Everett on Valentine’s Day?” Angelica asked.

“It isn’t much of a surprise if you know about it. Who told you?”

“A little bird.” Tricia could imagine Angelica smirking.

“Since there are only four guests, it had to be one of them,” Tricia said, and she had a good idea who: a certain Italian fellow that Angelica seemed to be consulting on a regular basis. Of course, that was to be expected as they both had ties to Nigela Ricita Associates.

“It was,” Angelica said, “but I am sworn to secrecy—and I want to come, too.”

“I’m not the one making up the guest list. But don’t ask Grace for an invite; you’ll only put her on the spot. I’ll talk to her tomorrow and see what she says.”

“Thank you. Goodness knows nobody else has invited me out on Valentine’s Day,” Angelica said with chagrin.

Me, either, Tricia thought. “Speaking of Bob,” she said, though they hadn’t, “have you seen him lately?”

Angelica shook her head. “After the mess he left for me with the Chamber of Commerce, I hope I never see that man again.”

“Do you think he knew about Betsy’s pilfering?”

“I can’t imagine he did. He’d have fired her on the spot—and made sure she was prosecuted. Bob was always very careful where money was involved.”

At least his own, Tricia thought. “Grant’s been looking for him and hasn’t been able to track him down, and Gi

“No, I haven’t spoken to him for at least a month, and as I mentioned, I don’t want to, either.” Angelica sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. I must get some shut-eye. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” Tricia said. She hung up the phone and stared at it for long seconds, wondering if she should try to call Bob, even though Baker had had no luck in contacting him. Maybe she’d drop by Bob’s real estate office in the morning. After all, if he wasn’t at home, or showing the properties he handled, where else could he possibly be?

*   *   *

Mr. Everett was jovial when he reported for work the next morning, arriving with a song on his lips and a bag full of still-warm bagels from the Patisserie. Not a minute later, a cold blast of air preceded Pixie’s arrival. “Good morning,” she called, her smile wider than Stoneham Creek after a heavy rain. In her hand was a rumpled plastic shopping bag. “Look, I’ve bought another new outfit for Sarah Jane.” Tricia refrained from rolling her eyes, and after coats were shucked and the coffee was poured, they all sat down in the readers’ nook to have a pleasant breakfast and talk about plans for the day.

Tricia always enjoyed these conversations, which were longer and more gratifying when not interrupted by customers. Life in Stoneham was much slower during the winter months and in some ways Tricia preferred it. At least, she felt that way on cold blustery mornings such as this.

It was only five minutes to ten when the door rattled open and Tricia looked up to see Grant Baker enter Haven’t Got a Clue. Mr. Everett and Pixie exchanged disappointed glances as they realized the morning coffee klatch was over. Tricia felt a trifle resentful, too, as she watched her employees pick up the discarded napkins, plastic knives, and the empty butter and cream cheese packets, and head for the back of the store to wash their cups.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Tricia asked, forcing a smile as she joined Baker at the front of the store.

He stepped farther into the shop and took off his hat, brushing off the light coat of snow on the brim. He must have walked from the station up the street. “I thought you might like to hear the results of Betsy Dittmeyer’s autopsy.”

“Death from being crushed,” Tricia said dully.

“As a matter of fact, no. She died of strangulation.”

Tricia stared blankly at her former lover. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. She was dead—or nearly dead—when the bookshelf was pulled onto her. That’s why there was so little blood at the scene.”

So the noise she, Angelica, and Fra

“She fought her attacker,” Baker said. “Judging from what they found under her fingernails, she must have scratched him or her quite badly.”

Tricia frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

He gave no answer for a long moment. “Because I thought you’d want to know.”

Was he trying to get back in her good graces? Did it really matter? “Thank you.”

A long quiet moment followed.

“Angelica said you’d confiscated the Chamber’s computer. Have you or any of your men had a chance to go through the files?”

Baker shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious,” Tricia said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the slight quaver in her voice. When was Angelica going to get around to telling him what they’d found? “Was there anything else you wanted to say?” Tricia asked, keeping her tone neutral.