Book Clubbed

“Thank you once again for your unwavering belief in me,” Tricia said with heavy sarcasm. “May I go?”

“No. I didn’t see the back entrance open.”

“Betsy had just emptied her wastebasket and left the back door open. Fra

“Then you don’t know for sure that Fra

“We could feel a draft, and I don’t doubt Fra

“Did you see the open door?”

“No, I was standing at the front of the store with Angelica.”

“Did you see anyone else you recognized in the store at the time of the . . . upset?”

Tricia shook her head.

“That means Mrs. Dittmeyer could have let her killer into the shop.”

“I guess. As I said, there were a bunch of customers in the store at the time, and Charlie the mailman was there a few minutes before we heard the ruckus.”

“Did you see him leave?”

Tricia thought about it. “No. But that doesn’t mean anything. Angelica and Fra

“And you thought the victim was making it?”

Tricia nodded. “As Angelica said, she and Betsy had been discussing the limitations of using the storeroom as the Chamber headquarters. Betsy made it plain she was not happy with the situation, and we figured she was throwing a tantrum.”

“Did she regularly do such things?” Baker demanded.

Tricia shrugged and heard others tromping around the apartment. “I don’t know. I didn’t hang out with the woman.”

“And why was that?” Baker asked.

“Because she wasn’t very nice. Or at least not very warm and welcoming.”

“What about the mailman?”

“Charlie? He’s a sweetheart. I suppose you can find him at the post office—after he’s finished his route, that is.”

“Chief?” Officer Henderson called.

Baker held up a hand to stall him. “We’ll talk later,” he told Tricia in dismissal.

She nodded, turned, and waited for the officer to move away from the doorway so she could escape. So much for getting anything accomplished during the rest of the morning—and there was no way she’d be able to visit the estate sale to look at the books on offer.

Tricia found the Cookery crowded with the entire Stoneham police force, who demanded she stay until Chief Baker verified that she was allowed to leave, which took another ten minutes—minutes in which she was not allowed to speak with Fra

While she loathed being called the village jinx, Tricia was begi

THREE

With all the chaos going on at the Cookery, Tricia was happy to return to her own store and its relative peace. Relative because her assistant, Pixie Poe, was singing. As she studied the order forms before her, Tricia desperately tried to ignore her employee’s slightly off-key rendition of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” As it was, Tricia had been afraid Angelica might wait out the police presence at her own store by hanging out at Haven’t Got a Clue, but instead she’d chosen to go across the street to Booked for Lunch, the tiny retro café she owned and operated.

Pixie dressed exclusively in vintage togs, so one never knew what era she was likely to represent on any given day. Today she seemed to be cha

While Tricia’s other employee, Mr. Everett, dusted the back shelves, Pixie once again wandered over to the big display window to look outside, checking out what she could see of the mix of official cars and people, and the investigation into Betsy Dittmeyer’s death.

“They haven’t taken the body out yet,” she said with what sounded like disappointment.

“And when they do, there’ll be nothing to see,” Tricia chided her.

“I know. It’s just . . . well, with the screws blocking the sidewalk, we aren’t going to have any customers, so I’ve gotta do something to keep from getting bored.”

“Why don’t you go read a book,” Tricia encouraged.

“Really?” Pixie asked with delight. “Great. I’m working my way through Dashiell Hammett once again. Love that Maltese Falcon.” Tricia watched her go over to one of the shelves, pluck out a book, and then flop down into the readers’ nook.

Tricia sighed and went back to her paperwork. Pixie might not be working, but neither was she singing.

The little bell over the door rang cheerfully, causing both Tricia and Pixie to look up, but instead of a customer it was Gi

“Not at all,” Gi

“Hi, Gi

“Hi, Pixie. How are you?”

“Just Yankee Doodle dandy!” she said and, unfortunately, began to hum as she read. From the back of the store, Mr. Everett waved his lamb’s-wool duster in greeting and went back to work.

Gi

“I’m afraid it’s true.”

“By a bookcase?” Gi

Tricia nodded grimly. “Fully loaded.”

“Messy,” Gi

“Yes,” Tricia agreed. She noted that Gi

Gi

Tricia looked over at Pixie, who had turned to look their way. “Sure, Mr. E and I can hold down the fort,” Pixie said. As usual, she’d been eavesdropping.

“Come on,” Tricia said and came out from behind the cash desk and wrapped an arm around Gi

Gi

Gi

“She does tend to go overboard,” Gi

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to serve a guest. I don’t really keep cookies or desserts up here. But we’ve got some thumbprint cookies down in the store. I could dash down and—”

Gi

“What’s wrong?” Tricia asked. “Have you and Antonio had a fight?”

“Oh, no. He’s the sweetest, nicest man in the world—well, apart from Mr. Everett. I love him to death. I’ve never had an unhappy minute with him.”