A Fatal Chapter

Toni shook her head. “But it seemed like he was disappointed in the whole situation. That maybe he’d once considered the person who’d threatened him to be a friend.”

And who was that friend? So far, no one Tricia had spoken to had admitted to being close to Pete. He had been a terrible flirt, yet it seemed he’d only felt comfortable being an acquaintance, not a true friend, to most of the people with whom he’d interacted.

Perhaps the person who’d threatened him had carried out a death sentence. If so, it had to be someone right here in Stoneham. Someone everyone knew. But that was the thing; most of the villagers did know just about everyone else in Stoneham.

“Toni,” a voice called.

She looked toward the store’s office. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

“Thanks for showing me around.”

Toni gave Tricia a quick wave and then hurried off.

Tricia stood in front of Pete’s booth, staring at his wide range of merchandise. How sad that all he had collected—loved—would be sold off, and for probably far less than its worth by whoever benefitted from his estate.

Tricia reached for her cell phone and called Chief Baker. Voice mail picked up. She left a message relaying what Toni had told her, suggesting he give the Emporium’s manager a call. Ringing off, she looked up to see Angelica approach. “There you are.”

“Toni was just showing me Pete Renquist’s booth.”

“Oh.” Angelica pointed to the booth before them. “This one?”

Tricia nodded. “Really old stuff. A lot different from the rest of the kitsch in here.”

“I like kitsch in my café but don’t want it in my home. I suppose it’s fun to collect, and I want the Emporium to do well, so who cares about my opinion? Come on. We’d better get back to the office. I’ve got a lot to do today and no doubt so do you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tricia said, and saluted.

They collected the scissors and ribbon and, on their way out, thanked everyone in sight. Tricia made sure to give Toni a wave, wishing she’d had more time to pump her for information.

Pete had been a part of the Historical Society for a long time. And he’d been a longtime resident of Stoneham. Surely there were other people who’d known him well. And, as she and Angelica headed back to the Chamber, it occurred to Tricia that she knew a local close at hand who might have that kind of information.

SIX

Angelica’s spirits always soared after a successful Chamber event, and she chattered on about the various conversations she’d had after the ceremony, but Tricia only half listened, pondering what Toni had told her about Pete. She’d tell Angelica about it—when her sister finally wound down.

They arrived back at the Chamber office to find Earl Winkler impatiently waiting for them. “What took you so long?” he barked.

“I’m sorry,” Angelica said. She spoke in that sickly sweet tone of voice again. “Did we have an appointment?”

“No,” Earl admitted, “but your receptionist thought you should have been back long before this.”

Angelica glanced at Mariana, who vehemently shook her head.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” Angelica said politely. “Now, what was it you wanted, Earl?”

“Selectman Winkler, if you please,” he insisted.

Tricia had to cover her mouth and clear her throat in an effort to keep from laughing, but Angelica merely smiled. “Selectman.”

“I want it made clear, and in front of witnesses,” he added, eyeing Tricia and Mariana, “that I had nothing to do with Pete Renquist’s death.”

“Does anyone suspect you of it?” Angelica asked.

“Well, no. But we had words the morning of his death—you were a witness to it—and I don’t want the situation misconstrued.”

“By whom?” Angelica pressed.

“The police, for one.”

“Did they contact you about it?” she asked.

“Well, no. But it’s well known that you—and your sister”—he looked accusingly at Tricia—“are always getting mixed up with the police when there’s been a serious crime here in Stoneham.”

“What does that have to do with Pete’s death?” Tricia asked.

“Nothing. But I don’t want the two of you suggesting that I might make a good suspect.”

“Do you make a good suspect?” It was Tricia’s turn to be a

“Of course not. I serve the citizens of Stoneham, not kill them.”

“Are you accusing anyone in this office of killing him?” Angelica asked pointedly.

“Well, no,” Earl said yet again.

“Then I suggest you take your umbrage and return to your regular job.”

“I’m semiretired.”

“Then go home,” Angelica said firmly.

Earl glared at her, pivoted, and then stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him.

Mariana looked scared. “Honest, Angelica, I never told him when you’d be coming back. He must have just assumed—”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I believe you. People like Earl are too busy being important to actually listen to what’s being said to them, so they make things up as they go along.”

Mariana offered a weak smile, obviously glad to be exonerated. She rose from her chair. “I think I need a fortifying cup of coffee. Can I get you anything?”

Both Tricia and Angelica shook their heads and watched as Mariana headed for the kitchen. Angelica was the first to speak. “So, what was that all about?”

“Obviously Earl thinks we think he’d make a fine suspect in Pete’s death.”

“They did clash on more than one occasion, but half the village has clashed with Earl at one time or another.”

“They haven’t turned up dead, either,” Tricia pointed out.

“What does he want us to do? Tell Grant he’s i

“Why would he want that?”

“To make us look bad. It seems to be what he tries to do most.”

Tricia thought about it for a moment, but Angelica had turned back to the mail littering her desk. Why had Earl shown up when he had? Why had he insisted on speaking to them in front of Mariana?

“I didn’t tell you what else Toni said,” Tricia began.

Angelica snatched her letter opener and looked up. “About what?”

“Pete. She said someone had threatened him.”

“But not Earl?”

“Pete didn’t tell her who—or exactly why. Just that he’d found something suspicious in some old records and he’d confronted someone about it.”

“You should tell Grant.”

“I already left him a message.”

“Good. Then let him handle it,” Angelica advised, and slit the envelope in her left hand.

“I am. But I wonder what kind of records Pete was going through and who he might have contacted about it.”

“Not your business,” Angelica sang, and pulled a letter from the envelope.

“What kind of records does the Historical Society keep, anyway?” Tricia asked.

“Anything old, I suppose.”

“Deeds? Marriage certificates? Death certificates?”

“I would assume most of what they’ve got has been donated.”

“Diaries? Maps?”

“Stop speculating and get back to work,” Angelica said mildly.

“Aren’t you even curious?”

“I would be, but I have too much to do and only so many hours in the day to accomplish it.”

“Speaking of the Historical Society, I visited Janet Koch this morning. She’s taking over for Pete until the board meets,” Tricia said.

“That’s nice,” Angelica muttered, distracted, her gaze still on the paperwork before her.

“She said the moon was made of green cheese.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that she has swamp land for sale in Florida.”

“How about that?” Angelica muttered.

“Janet also told me that Nigela Ricita made a generous donation to the society.”

That got Angelica’s attention; she looked up sharply.

“Half a million bucks,” Tricia said.