Book Clubbed

“Yes. It’s filled with the dirt on every Chamber member. I would almost say the information was worthy of blackmail.”

“You don’t say,” he said, his voice rising u

“I do. There was one notable exception. Your name was missing from the roster.”

“It was?” he asked, feigning surprise.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bob. You instigated the compiling of that list.”

“I did not,” he protested.

“Then you do know about it.”

Bob pursed his lips and frowned. “It was Betsy’s idea, and yes, she did show it to me. I told her to delete it. The people on that list were my friends, and what she did was despicable.”

“And it didn’t give you a clue about her character?”

“She had impeccable references, she showed up for work every day on time, she completed every task I gave her without a lot of instruction, and she didn’t spend half her day gossiping with anybody who’d listen.” That last remark was referring to Fra

“Did you ever actually check her references?” Tricia pressed.

Bob shrank farther back into the shadows. “I think so. I don’t really remember.”

Probably just pure laziness on his part. And how odd was it that Bob considered the people on Betsy’s blackmail list to be his friends? Tricia doubted many of the Chamber members thought of Bob as any more than an acquaintance, and those who rented storefronts from him knew they’d be hounded if they didn’t pay up on time, which hardly contributed to a feeling of goodwill. Chauncey Porter, owner of the Armchair Tourist, immediately came to mind. Bob had pestered him on a daily basis when he’d gotten behind on his rent. That gave Tricia an idea.

“Bob, have you been sleeping at the back of the Armchair Tourist?”

Bob looked up sharply, his face draining of color. “Of course not.”

Aha! A blatant lie. Tricia knew Chauncey had a cot in the back of his store. He’d lived there for a while during a lull when business was bad and he’d had to give up his apartment. She had no doubt Chauncey would have let Bob hide out there for a reduction in rent—and the longer the better.

“What does Betsy’s list have to do with Chauncey Porter?” Bob demanded.

“Nothing. I’m just putting pieces of the puzzle together. And what do you think Chief Baker is going to think when he sees that list?”

“What do you mean?”

“After Betsy’s death, the chief confiscated the Chamber’s computer as evidence.”

Bob looked positively horrified.

“As I said,” Tricia continued, “one might think Betsy—or you—collected that information as blackmail material.”

Bob’s eyes widened with indignation. “I never asked her to draw up that list. I told her to delete it, and she assured me she had.”

“But you never bothered to check,” Tricia stated.

Bob’s expression darkened. “No. I trusted her to follow my orders—that’s what she was paid for.”

“It seems like Betsy commanded far too much of your trust.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it now? I’m not the Chamber president and Betsy is dead.”

“I’m sorry, Bob, but you picked the wrong time to drop out of sight. It looks very suspicious.”

“I had no reason to kill Betsy,” he declared, his voice rising once again.

“And you apparently have no alibi, either,” Tricia bluffed.

Bob looked away. “Betsy Dittmeyer worked for the Chamber for over two years. I didn’t know her well and I hadn’t spoken to her in at least a month before she died. There’s no way Chief Baker can tie me to her death—and neither can you.”

“You’re right. Perhaps you’re right, but there’s more.”

“More?” Bob asked, confused.

“Did you know Kelly Realty now has competition here in Stoneham?”

“What do you mean?” he demanded. The threat to his wallet made his eyes bulge most unattractively.

“Nigela Ricita Associates has opened a real estate office here in Stoneham.”

“That’s impossible,” he nearly shouted.

“It’s entirely possible. Right now they’re operating out of a bungalow behind the Brookview I

Bob let out a shaky breath and for a moment Tricia thought he might cry. “It’s all falling apart. My entire life is falling apart,” he practically whimpered.

“Bob, what event from your past is so heinous that you would ignore your business and live on the street? From what I’ve seen, it’s what you love most in life.”

“For the past twelve years, I’ve worked damn hard to turn this village around. I brought in the booksellers. I got the Board of Selectmen to improve the infrastructure. I strived to make it a tourist mecca, with people coming from all over the eastern seaboard, and now your sister has ruined it.”

“Ruined Stoneham?” Tricia echoed in disbelief.

“No, my life. She stole the Chamber presidency from me.”

“Bob, the members took it away from you—not Angelica,” Tricia said reasonably, but she could tell he wasn’t listening. “And you still haven’t answered my question. What are you going to do about NRA Realty?”

Bob huddled deeper into his coat. “I’ve got to go.” He turned and inched his bulk down the space between the buildings, turned left at the alley, and then disappeared.

Tricia didn’t bother to follow him and instead turned and headed back to her store. Bob was a fool, but then she’d always known that. No way had he been involved in Betsy’s death, but evidently he had plenty of other things to hide, and the fact that he’d been dodging Chief Baker for the better part of a week was suspicious indeed. But for some reason Tricia didn’t feel she should talk to Baker about him. At least, not yet. There was still so much about the various goings-on in Stoneham that she didn’t know. She’d just have to keep on asking questions.

After all, it seemed to be what she did best.

NINETEEN

As usual, Tricia crossed the street to join Angelica at Booked for Lunch just after the café officially closed for the day. But when she opened the door she didn’t see her sister. Was she destined to eat another lonely lunch from a foam box? “Ange?”

“In the kitchen. Be right there.”

Relieved, Tricia slipped out of her coat and set it on one of the booth seats, then walked around the counter to find her tuna plate in the little fridge under the counter. She’d just sat down when Angelica burst out of the kitchen with a large salad plate. “What a day. I feel like I’ve been on the go since the minute I got up.” She set the plate down on the counter and turned for the coffee urn, pouring a couple of cups before she plunked down on the stool next to Tricia.

“And have you been on the go since dawn?”

“Yes. The new Chamber secretary started today. I talked it over with her and let her know that she may not be my starting quarterback when we move into the new office space, that I would probably need someone full-time to take that position. Thank goodness she seemed fine with it.” Angelica stabbed a piece of lettuce, dipping it into the small container of dressing that sat on the side of her plate.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Chief Baker yet?”

Angelica winced. “No. He never got back to me after I left a message last night, and I’m not going to call him again, either. What’s the big deal, anyway? You’ve already spoken to him.”