Murder On The Half Shelf, page 14
“We’ll be fine,” Linda assured her, sounding much more confident than she’d been the day before.
The clouds had begun to gather. Tricia left the shop and bent her head to avoid the worst of the wind, hurrying to the Cookery. Frannie was alone in the store and looked up at her arrival, putting an Easy-Does-It Cooking bookmark between the pages of a book before closing its cover. As expected, it was a copy of Death Beckons.
“Where’s Angelica? She just called to ask me to take her to get her car.”
“That was quick,” Frannie said. “Your sister went up the stairs less than ten minutes ago.”
“Did she tell you what happened at the TV station?”
Frannie nodded. “The short version. She promised me all the details later. What a terrible experience. And the station just went on the air, too. I was looking forward to seeing more local newscasts instead of what’s going on in Boston or Manchester.” She shook her head. “Did you see the broadcast?”
Tricia nodded. “It was terrible, but it happened so fast…”
“I DVR’d it, so I can’t wait to get home and see it for myself. I’m just glad Angelica is okay.”
“Me, too.”
“I saw Chief Baker drop Angelica off in front of your store. That sure was nice of him-and to pick her up in his own car instead of using the village’s cruiser, too. That’ll win him points with everybody. I’m sure villagers who voted against reinstating the police force would have kicked up an awful stink if one of our officers used an official vehicle for personal use.”
Would they ever, Tricia agreed, but not aloud. “Is anything else going on in town?” she asked, if only to change the subject.
“Still no word on an arrest in Pippa Comfort’s death, if that’s what you mean. Goodness knows there’re plenty of suspects.”
“Who’s at the top of your list?” Tricia asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Frannie’s eyes narrowed. “Chauncey Porter.”
“Chauncey? What possible motive could he have for killing Pippa?”
“Don’t you remember-Jim Roth and Chauncey were great pals. That’s why I asked him to give the eulogy at Jim’s funeral gathering last year.” And what a fiasco that was, but Tricia didn’t bring that up.
“I don’t see what that has to do with that poor woman’s death.”
“Chauncey recognized Miz Comfort from a spread in Playboy magazine.”
“But that was years ago, Tricia said.
“Jim told me that Chauncey has quite a collection of pornographic magazines and videos, which he has cataloged on his store’s computer. He told Jim they were all e-rot-ic art, but if you ask me, it’s just plain smut.”
Chauncey Porter into porn? Well, it kind of made sense. He wasn’t the most attractive male on the planet. He was overweight and balding, and…no longer young. Perhaps he’d settled on a life of voyeurism rather than pursuing any kind of relationship with a living, breathing woman. Your heart didn’t get broken if you never risked loving someone, but oh what an empty life he must lead. Then again, maybe the love of his life had died or deserted him and it just seemed easier to fantasize than risk being hurt again.
“What are you thinking?” Frannie asked.
“Even if what you said is true-why would Chauncey kill her?”
“Maybe he was jealous. Mr. Comfort had a Playboy bunny all his own. Let’s face it, Chauncey never would.”
“Don’t you think that’s reaching for a motive?”
Frannie shrugged. “I haven’t been reading mysteries as long as you have, but I have to admit, I look at strangers and wonder, Have you committed a crime? Are you capable of committing a crime? I guess reading mysteries has made me a little paranoid.”
Tricia could second that statement.
Thankfully, Angelica burst through the door at the back of the shop marked PRIVATE. Her damp hair hung in ringlets, and she wore slacks, boots, a puffy pink jacket, and a matching purse. This time, she held Sarge like a football under one arm. “Let’s go!” she called, and headed for the back door. “I’m not sure when we’ll be back, Frannie, and we’re hightailing it out the back door. Could you reset the alarm after we’re gone? And please don’t tell Bob Kelly where we’re heading.”
“Sure thing,” Frannie said, and scrambled from around the sales counter to follow Tricia and Angelica to the rear exit.
The door closed behind them and Tricia struggled to keep up with Angelica, who’d already trundled down the steep concrete steps to the alley. “Hurry up, Tricia,” she said, and began to jog.
“Ange, wait!” Tricia called, but when Angelica was motivated, nothing could stop her. That is, until she came to the end of the line of buildings where the alley ran into the Stoneham Municipal Parking Lot. She crept up to the edge of the building and looked around it, quickly retreated, and pressed her back to the brick wall. “It’s Bob!” she squealed, and quickly put Sarge in her purse.
Tricia caught up and poked her head around the side of the Patisserie. Sure enough, coming down the west side of Main Street was Bob Kelly, clad in his beige raincoat and sans a hat, looking like a man with a mission. And as Angelica said-he did not look pleased.
Angelica grabbed Tricia by the sleeve, hauling her back behind the building. “Don’t let him see you!”
“Why are we hiding from Bob? I’m sure he only wants to express his concern over what happened to you at the TV station,” Tricia said, not that she really believed it.
“I don’t think so,” Angelica said. “He’s definitely angry with me.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Your whole relationship with Bob has been complicated,” Tricia pointed out.
“Yes, well…I think he found out something I’m involved in.”
Tricia scrutinized her sister’s face. Not only did Angelica sound guilty, she actually looked sneaky.
“I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
Angelica frowned and Sarge popped his head out of her purse, giving a cheerful bark.
“Shhh!” Angelica hissed and pushed the little curly head back into the bag.
“Ange,” Tricia scolded.
Angelica sighed. “Bob’s angry with me for making a certain real estate investment here in town.”
Tricia’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
“It’s not really a big deal, and it’s really nobody’s business but my own, but…I kind of own a share in the Sheer Comfort Inn.”
SIXTEEN
“I don’t think I heard you right,” Tricia said, feeling a bit betrayed herself. She had thought that Angelica told her everything. “What’s going on?”
“I’m a silent partner in the Sheer Comfort Inn.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? And more importantly, why did you let me think the Comforts owned it?”
“I can’t be a silent partner if I go around blabbing about it, now can I?”
“How much of a stake do you have in the inn and who’s your partner?”
“Partners,” Angelica admitted. “It’s a very long story and I’m freezing. See if Bob has passed by and then we can get in your car and drive away.”
“You can’t avoid him forever,” Tricia said.
“All I care about is avoiding him right now.” She pushed Tricia to the edge of the building.
There was no sign of Bob. “The coast is clear. Let’s move,” Tricia said, and the two women threaded their way through the cars until they came to Tricia’s Lexus. She pushed the button on her key fob and the doors unlocked. Angelica opened the door, stuck her big purse on the floor, and jumped inside. Tricia followed suit, quickly buckling herself in.
“Let’s go!” Angelica urged, and Tricia started the car.
She pulled out of the lot and looked to the left before pulling onto Main Street. Sure enough, Bob Kelly was jogging toward them.
“Get us out of here,” Angelica shouted. Sarge barked his encouragement from the depths of her purse, and Tricia hit the gas. The car leapt out into the street with the wheels spinning.
Tricia looked into her rearview mirror to see Bob standing on the sidewalk, shaking his fist at them.
“I can’t believe what I’ve just done,” Tricia said, gripping the wheel.
“You got me out of a tight spot.”
“But you can’t avoid Bob forever.”
“I may have to enlist your on-and-off boyfriend to play interference for me.”
“Why is Bob so angry, anyway? I’m the one who should be angry. I’m really hurt you didn’t tell me about this.”
“I’m sorry. Actually, I should have asked if you’d like to invest. Don’t you think it would be fun to run an inn?”
“No, I don’t. And I thought you were a silent partner.”
Angelica sighed. “Otherwise they might be pet friendly and I wouldn’t have had to sneak Sarge in on Sunday. And it would’ve been fun if I’d been consulted about the amenities.”
“Did you look at the inn before you purchased it?”
Angelica shook her head. “No, which is why I was so interested to see how it looked on Sunday night.”
“Why is Bob angry?”
“Because he wanted in on the action and was bumped from the deal when I came on board.”
“Why would he be bumped?”
“I kind of made it part of the deal. They were looking for a bigger share of money, and…I came up with it. It’s as simple as that.”
“You still haven’t told me who your partners are.”
“I thought you might get angry.”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because I’m in cahoots with Nigela Ricita Associates.”
Yes, that would’ve made Tricia angry.
“How did you find out about the deal?”
“Antonio Barbero.” Of course, Ginny’s fiancé. “Apparently NR Associates is stretched thin and cash starved, what with all the other investments they’ve already made in Stoneham. I guess because I already have a store and a café, they decided to ask me if I wanted a share in the business.”
“Did you hire the Comforts to run the inn?”
She shook her head. “Antonio found them networking with Clayton Ellington through the Chamber of Commerce.” Angelica’s voice dropped to a simper. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not mad, just shocked you’d join forces with a firm that you’ve spoken out against in the past. You’re the one who said they were trying to take over the village.”
Angelica shrugged. “They offered me an opportunity I couldn’t refuse.”
“And that was?” Tricia prompted.
“The chance to get back at Bob.”
“Because he cheated on you?” This didn’t make sense.
“I trusted him. I trusted him and he was no better than my four scumbag ex-husbands. That bimbo he dallied with couldn’t hold a candle to me. Even you have to admit that,” she challenged.
Angelica was right on that account. “But how did Bob find out about you being co-owner?”
“Real estate transactions are public records,” Angelica explained. “The deed was only amended yesterday. Being in the real estate business, Bob’s got contacts who feed him information.”
“So you knew he’d eventually find out.” She tore her eyes from the road to risk a quick glance at her sister, who looked very smug.
“Umm…maybe.”
“Have you told Grant Baker about this?”
“Why is that relative?”
“Because someone died there on Monday night.”
“Why is that the fault of the owners?”
“Because she was your employee?”
“Oh. I guess you’re right. Okay, I’ll give him a call when I get home. Or maybe tomorrow. Oh dear. I guess we should do something like send flowers or something. When’s the funeral?”
“Harry’s having her ashes tossed on a mountain. That’ll save you on a Teleflora order. Of course, if the law decides to go after Harry, he might need money to mount his legal defense and sue you.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. That’s what lawyers do-sit around and think of ways to sue people.”
Angelica sighed and a pout crossed her lips, erasing her smug expression. “We’d better think of who else might have killed Pippa Comfort.”
“Frannie thinks it was Chauncey Porter.”
“What?”
“That was my reaction, too,” Tricia said, and braked for a red light. “Apparently Pippa was once a Playboy bunny and Chauncey’s hobby is porn.”
“Porn?” Angelica repeated, aghast. “Chauncey Porter is into porn? I would’ve never thought it-he’s always been such a gentleman.”
“You think that’s bad-Grace Harris-Everett’s new receptionist is a former prostitute.”
Angelica’s jaw dropped. “A prostitute-in Stoneham?” She shook her head. “What is this world coming to?”
“Mary Fairchild told me that Chauncey spoke to Pippa when he first arrived at the inn on Sunday night. He told her she looked different out of uniform. I’m assuming he meant her Playboy bunny outfit.”
“Why, that lecherous old fool!” Angelica cried.
“According to Mary, it really upset her. Apparently Pippa thought she’d put those days behind her a long time ago.”
“Was she afraid he’d tell other people about her past? Not that being a bunny is the same as being a stripper or a pole dancer. At least they wear a costume that covers up more than it actually shows.”
“It’s not the kind of news you want potential customers to know-not if you’re trying to convey a sense of wholesome family values.”
“Isn’t the whole idea of going to a romantic inn to have fabulous sex?” Angelica asked.
“Oh, yeah? Then why did you invite me to be your guest at the inn and not Bob?”
Angelica leveled a piercing gaze at Tricia. “You know very well that we have had our ups and downs since last year when he cheated on me. We’re in a down period right now.”
Apparently they’d been in a down period for a full nine months. Bob had to really be a glutton for punishment to hang on this long hoping for a reconciliation.
“But even if Chauncey is into porn, that doesn’t make him a murderer. What possible motive could he have for killing Pippa?” Angelica asked.
“There she was, an object of his desire-”
“Some twenty years later,” Angelica said pointedly.
“Maybe he figured if he couldn’t have her, why should anyone else?”
“That sounds more like Frannie’s reasoning than your own.”
Caught! “I’m just trying to think of all the possible suspects.”
“And the most obvious one is her husband. Or just because you had a relationship with Jon Comfort-”
“Harry Tyler,” Tricia corrected for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“-you don’t want to see him guilty. Am I right, or am I right?”
“Wrong!”
Angelica heaved a dramatic sigh. “Go on. Who else is on your suspect list?”
“What’s wrong with Clayton Ellington? He was one of Pippa’s former lovers. If he recommended her to Antonio, maybe he wanted her to be close at hand.”
“If he went to all that trouble, why would he want to kill her?”
“I haven’t figured out a motive yet.”
“And what if he has none?”
“It seems suspicious to me that he’d call up an old lover after twenty years and say, ‘Hey, I’ve got a line on a job for you. Come live in the same small town as me and my wife.’”
“All the more reason why he wouldn’t kill her. Murdering an ex-lover is not the way to keep your marriage intact.”
“Some people don’t think ahead.”
“You do if you’re a successful businessman.”
“And successful people with money often get rid of problems.”
“How was Pippa a problem?”
“I haven’t-”
“-figured that out yet,” Angelica finished for her. “I’ve already heard that explanation once in this conversation. And why are you still ignoring the fact that her husband might have done it?”
“I’m not ignoring it. I just don’t have any idea why Harry would do it. He said they weren’t close, but if he wanted to leave her, he didn’t have to accompany her here to open the inn.”
“Divorce is expensive,” Angelica pointed out. “I know. I’ve been through four of them.” She waggled her right index finger close to Tricia’s face. “You just don’t want him to be guilty of murder. You still care for him.”
“I do not!” Tricia protested.
“Oh, yes you do. Admit it, things haven’t been going well with you and Chief Baker. Before that, Russ dumped you. And before that, Christopher. But now there’s the possibility that you and Jon Comfort-”
“Harry Tyler!”
“-could get back together again.”
“You’re living in fantasyland.”
Angelica’s eyes blazed, and Tricia figured she had better put an end to the argument before they both said something they’d regret. “This is where I could use a GPS,” Tricia said. “How about telling me where to go?”
“Do you realize the opening you just gave me?” Angelica said with just a touch of malice.
Tricia frowned. “I could let you out here.”
“Turn left at the next light,” Angelica directed with lips pursed.
Except for directions, they rode the rest of the way without speaking, which was okay with Tricia. Even Sarge remained quiet at the bottom of Angelica’s big purse.
After dropping Angelica off at the parking lot, Tricia waited to make sure she and Sarge got into the car and started the engine before she took off. She felt guilty for spending so little time in the store since Linda had started, even though she knew she was in Mr. Everett’s knowledgeable hands. But there was one more stop she wanted to make before she returned to Haven’t Got a Clue.
Tricia stepped on the gas and headed for home, making a stop at a doughnut joint to buy a half a dozen greasy fried cakes. After all, in some respects, cops and journalists weren’t all that different.
