Book Clubbed

Stop it! she told herself. Those types of thoughts were morbid.

She petted Miss Marple, locked her apartment, and went back down to her store.

Unless Angelica really irritated her, she would enjoy her company and try not to think about the terrible expression on Betsy Dittmeyer’s face, or ponder just who wanted the woman dead.

FIVE

Tricia unlocked the door to the Cookery and let herself in. She walked a little slower as she headed up the steps and passed the second-floor landing, pausing a moment to look at the locked door that led to Angelica’s storeroom, where Betsy had drawn her last breath, and then hurried up the rest of the stairs, eager to leave the place of death.

The door to Angelica’s apartment was unlocked and Sarge met her, barking happily and jumping up to try to lick her face. She’d come prepared with an Angelica-approved doggy treat, and he raced back to the kitchen while she hung up her coat. She frowned as the sound of slightly off-key singing wafted through the loft apartment. Shades of Pixie, she thought.

As she entered the kitchen, Tricia found Angelica all dolled up—in a pretty, ruffled pink cocktail dress, makeup, with her hair curled, looking like she’d spent half the afternoon primping.

“Did you get dressed up just for me?” Tricia asked.

Angelica immediately stopped singing “That’s Amore,” but continued to smile, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “I always feel better when I look my best.”

“You do remember that someone died in your building today,” Tricia said.

Angelica’s smile faded. “Don’t you dare go throwing a bucket of cold water on my carefully engineered good mood. Of course I feel terrible about Betsy’s death. Don’t forget, whoever killed her kicked in my door and raced through my home. I have been violated!”

Tricia hadn’t even noticed that the door had been fixed. “I’m sorry. That was really thoughtless of me.”

Angelica pouted. “I forgive you. But please, could we talk about anything but Betsy this evening? Just for a few hours, I’d like to pretend that it never happened.”

Tricia nodded. She could share what she’d learned about Betsy from Christopher and Joelle another time. “Sure.”

Angelica managed a ghost of her former smile. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask what put you in such a happy mood?” Tricia said.

Angelica turned to face the oven, opened the door a crack, and peeked at its contents. Whatever it was smelled heavenly. “I take it you haven’t heard the wonderful news!”

“What news?” Tricia asked, noting two martini glasses on the counter, along with an ice bucket, a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin, vermouth, and olives skewered by frilly toothpicks, the kind Tommy at Booked for Lunch used to skewer club sandwiches.

“There’s a new real estate office opening in Stoneham. Finally someone will give Bob Kelly a run for his money. And you’ll never guess who’s behind it.”

“Not Nigela Ricita Associates,” Tricia said with a groan. That particular development company not only owned a share of the Brookview I

“Yes.”

“Then why are you happy? You hate them.”

“What a terrible thing for you to say. I do not hate them,” she said, picked up the tongs, and placed some ice in the chrome cocktail shaker. “I’m in partnership with them at the Sheer Comfort I

“Who told you about it?”

“I do get cc’d on some of their e-mails, you know. As soon as I got that one late this afternoon, I made an appointment to see their new sales manager.” She measured the gin and added it to the shaker. “Her name is Karen Johnson and we’re going to meet for tea tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already got my menu pla

“That’s nice,” Tricia said and leaned against the kitchen island, watching the drink-making operation. “When did all this come about?”

“I called Antonio and he admitted that it’s been in the works for some time.”

“Will they have any clients? I thought Bob had all the sale and rental properties in the area locked in.”

“Yes, but most of those contracts are usually only for three months. And let’s face it, those clients can’t be happy that Bob has deliberately avoided showing their properties to prospective clients—like me. I’ll bet quite a few of them will be ready to jump ship when their contracts run out.”

“And who’s going to tell them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a little bird,” she said and giggled.

“A five-foot-six-inch bird with blonde hair who sings a trifle off-key?” Tricia suggested.

“Could be,” Angelica said, added the vermouth, covered the shaker, and shook it vigorously. She poured equal amounts into the two martini glasses, added the olives, and then handed one to Tricia, taking the other. “To Betsy. And to the NRA real estate office. May they find the Chamber a home in record time.”

The sisters clinked glasses. “Amen.” They both took a sip, Angelica with relish, and Tricia with a bit of a wince. Perhaps if she drank enough of them, she’d actually come to enjoy a classic martini.

“Have you heard the latest about Nikki and Russ?” Angelica said excitedly, grabbed a pot holder, and turned for the oven door. She withdrew a baking sheet filled with little triangles—spanakopita, one of Tricia’s favorite appetizers.

“Oh, I heard it all right. Nikki came straight to my store to a

“Mine, too.” Angelica retrieved a couple of plates from the cupboard and transferred several of the appetizers to them while Tricia grabbed some napkins from the holder on the shelf, taking them and her drink to the kitchen island. Meanwhile, Angelica turned for the refrigerator, withdrew a mini muffin tin, and placed it straight into the oven, closing the door once again.

“It’s just as well we’re drinking martinis,” Tricia said when Angelica joined her. “I’ve got a piece of good news to share, too, but you have to promise me you won’t say a word to anyone,” Tricia said.

“Do you think I’m some kind of a blabbermouth?” Angelica asked, wounded, and set her glass down on the island.

“Of course not, but . . . this was told to me in confidence—”

“Most secrets are,” Angelica muttered.

“—and, though I’m sure it’ll be making its way around the village any day now, I think the happy couple ought to be the ones making that a

“Someone’s getting married?” Angelica guessed, delighted.

Tricia took another sip of her martini. “Not married, but the next best thing.”

“Another baby?” Angelica asked.

Tricia nodded and picked up one of the triangles, taking a bite. Terrific!

“But the only ones we know who are young enough to . . . Oh, my God! Gi

Sarge, who’d retreated to his bed, looked up, startled by her outburst.

“Shhh! Don’t say it so loud. But, yes, they are.”

“This is wonderful! We must start making the plans for Gi

“She doesn’t even know yet. And knowing her, she won’t want to know before the birth. And you can’t give a baby shower when the baby isn’t even due for at least another six months.”