Book Clubbed

“The paper goes to bed on Friday afternoon. Do you think you’ll find out anything else before then?”

Tricia shrugged. “I don’t know. This one’s a puzzler. If the people on Betsy’s unflattering list knew about the information she’d collected on them they’d be angry—but I don’t think there’s anything on the list worth killing for.”

“Good. Then count me out,” Russ said with a laugh.

Tricia stood, grabbed her coat, and put it on. “I’ve got to get back to my store.”

“And I’ve got to get back to my spreadsheets. Promise you’ll share whatever else you find out?”

“Only if you do, too.”

He gave her a wink. “You got it.”

“And think about what I said about your new arrival. I have faith that you and Nikki are going to be wonderful parents, and when that baby arrives, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without him or her.”

He still looked skeptical. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“Have you ever known me to be wrong?”

Russ shook his head and smiled. “Never.”

Tricia returned his smile, glad she and Russ no longer had to be at odds. “I’ll see you later.”

*   *   *

Tricia was chagrined to find just how late it was when she finally returned to Haven’t Got a Clue. She found Pixie sitting in the empty store’s readers’ nook with stacks of catalogs piled on the large square coffee table before her, her reading glasses resting on the tip of her nose and a big yellow highlighter in hand. Miss Marple was curled up on the chair across from her, while a Sinatra CD played quietly on the store’s stereo. “Oh, you’re back,” Pixie called in greeting, and even Miss Marple opened a sleepy eye to acknowledge Tricia’s presence.

“Angelica called wondering where you were for lunch.”

“I was so busy I never got around to it. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you and Mr. Everett to go out together,” she said, and shrugged out of her coat.

“That’s okay, he went to the diner and got us sandwiches to go.”

“Have we had many customers since I’ve been gone?” Tricia asked, folding the coat over her left arm.

Pixie shook her head sadly. “Not a one. But Miss Marple and I have been studying catalogs, and I fielded a number of calls. We got another invitation to look over a book collection—leftovers from an estate sale. I told them you’d call back.”

“Thank you.”

“How did your errands go? Did you learn anything new?” Pixie asked rather hungrily. And why not? Except for Mr. Everett, the poor woman had been cut off from human contact for a good chunk of the day.

“Not as much as I’d hoped.” Tricia left it at that.

She was about to head to the back of the store to hang up her coat when she remembered that she’d promised Angelica she’d ask Grace about her attending Mr. Everett’s surprise birthday party on Friday. She made an about-face, set her coat on the back of one of the nook’s comfortable chairs, and headed to the cash desk to make the call.

“Hi, Linda. It’s Tricia Miles. Is there a chance I could talk to Grace?”

“I’m sorry,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but Mrs. Harris-Everett has stepped away from her desk.” Tricia winced. How could she have forgotten that Grace had said that her assistant, Linda, was out following an emergency appendectomy? The person who answered was no doubt the temp she’d mentioned she’d hired.

“Oh, dear. I was hoping to speak to her before this afternoon. Could you please have her call me?”

“Of course. Although if you want to catch her, she said she was going to stop by the Dog-Eared Page. Perhaps you might see her there.”

Tricia couldn’t help but smile. Grace really must have enjoyed that sherry the other day. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“Have a good evening,” the temp said and ended the call.

Tricia set down the receiver and picked up her coat once more.

“Going somewhere else?” Pixie asked.

“Um, yes. I need to run across the street for a minute or two. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Take your time,” Pixie said, and went back to studying the catalogs. “Me and Miss Marple have got nothing but time to kill.”

Pixie killing time during working hours was not terribly efficient, but it was convenient to have her there when Tricia wanted to run errands. She do

Tricia opened the door to the Dog-Eared Page and found it quiet, with only three or four customers. Shawn, the daytime bartender, was waiting on several early-evening customers, while the pub’s manager, Michele Fowler, sat at one of the back tables with Grace. Tricia paused. She could hardly ask Grace to invite Angelica to Mr. Everett’s birthday celebration with Michele there.

She was about to turn and leave when Grace saw her, waving a hand for Tricia to come and join them. She pasted on a smile and threaded her way between the tables, heading toward the back of the room.

“Tricia, what brings you here at this time of day?” Grace asked, smiling.

“The woman in your office told me I might find you here.”

“Oh?”

“It’s about Friday night,” she said, lowering her voice.

“William’s birthday?” Michele asked with a grin. “Grace was just telling me about it. Sounds like it will be a jolly good time.”

“Yes, it does,” Tricia agreed warily.

“The thing I miss most about working days is joining friends for di

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Grace asked Tricia.

There was no other way to get around it. “It seems Angelica would like to be included in Mr. Everett’s birthday bash. She was going to call you herself, but I didn’t want her to put you on the spot.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure William would love to have her join us. That is, he would if he knew about the party, especially as she’s included us in so many of her own celebrations. I feel ashamed that I didn’t think to include her from the start.” She turned to Michele. “Now you are sworn to secrecy,” she chided.

Michele laughed, and for a moment held her index finger to her lips. “I shan’t tell a soul. But should you want to continue the celebration after di

Grace beamed. “Perhaps we shall.”

Tricia felt awkward standing there. “I’d better get going. I’m so looking forward to Friday. See you then.”

Grace lifted her glass as though in a toast, and Tricia waved before she turned to leave.

The sky was a washed-out gray and the wind was fierce when Tricia stepped out of the Dog-Eared Page. She waited for several cars to pass before she crossed the street and saw a man with a week’s worth of stubble on his cheeks bundled in a ragged camouflage coat, a matching hunting cap, and a scarf wrapped around his face, who stood in the space between By Hook or By Book and the Outer Limits Sci-Fi and Comics shop. The man had wrapped his arms around himself and looked half frozen. Were there actually homeless people tramping the streets of Stoneham?

The man seemed to notice Tricia staring, and turned and hurried down the street. There was something familiar about his gait. And then Tricia realized just who it was she’d been studying. “Bob! Bob Kelly! Wait!” Her calls only made the man break into a run.

Tricia frowned, checked traffic once again, and crossed the street for her shop.

The bell over the door jangled cheerfully, but Tricia felt anything but cheerful as she entered. Still seated in the readers’ nook, Pixie looked up from the catalog she’d been perusing. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you see a man in a camo jacket outside just a few minutes ago?”

Pixie nodded. “Yeah, I did. Looked like some old rummy. Not the kind of guy you usually see hanging around the village.”

“I think it was Bob Kelly.”

“Shut up!” Pixie said, rising from her seat and moving to join Tricia.