pillows. Tricia missed the cuisine and the friendly staff, but admitted she still preferred the privacy of her own home and the company of her cat and her precious books.
Bess, the plump sixty-something night clerk, looked up from her keyboard behind the reception desk, a smile lighting her face. 'Welcome back, Ms. Miles. And what brings you to the Brookview tonight?'
'My sister, Angelica Prescott, is a guest.'
'No doubt at your recommendation,' Bess said and beamed.
Tricia smiled, pushing down the guilt.
'I think you'll find her in our dining room. The special tonight is hazelnut-encrusted salmon.' Bess closed her eyes in a moment of pure ecstasy. 'Itis to die for.'
'Sounds heavenly. But I've already eaten.' Her dinner had consisted of a burger on a soggy bun that Ginny snagged at the Bookshelf Diner down the street from the shop. 'I'll just pop in and see if Angie's there.'
'You go right ahead, dear.' Bess gave a little wave and returned her attention to her keyboard.
Tricia crossed the foyer to the opened double doors at the far end of the lobby. The Brookview's elegant dining room, with its crown molding, traditional furnishings, and lamp-lit oil paintings of Revolutionary War heroes, welcomed her. And at the best table, holding court, sat Angelica, leaning forward, manicured index finger wagging to make a point with her guest. She was blond again, cut short and stylish, and what looked like a recent weight loss was evident in her face. She'd always been the family beauty, and so far age had not worked against her. Even with his back turned toward her, Tricia recognized the man who sat opposite her sister: Bob Kelly. Two of the three people on the planet who irritated Tricia the most, and now she had to deal with both of them-together.
The fact that Bob could've passed as her ex's twin-albeit a decade older-may've been responsible for part of Tricia's dislike for him. Did he have to be so drop-dead handsome? Tall, muscular, with a head full of wavy dark hair that had never seen a colorist, and those deep green eyes. Yes, except for the eyes, he could have been Christopher's double.
Dinner had been cleared and only demitasse cups and crumb-littered dessert plates remained on the linen- shrouded table.
Tricia took a breath, plastered on a smile, and charged forward. 'Angie!'
Angelica looked up, a look of true pleasure lighting her expression, reinforcing the guilt Tricia felt. 'Darling Trish.' She rose, arms outstretched.
The women embraced and Tricia quelled the urge to cough. Angelica did indeed smell like she'd been dipped in a vat of perfume. A couple of air kisses later, Tricia pulled back. 'You look fabulous. You've lost weight.'
'Twenty pounds,' Angelica admitted proudly. 'I've just returned from this divine spa in Aspen, and-'
Bob Kelly cleared his throat. Tricia hadn't noticed that he'd also stood. She nodded, dropped her voice. 'Hello, Bob. I see you've met my sister.'
'Yes, and what a delightful surprise.'
Tricia gave the empty chairs around the table a cursory glance. 'Where's Drew?'
Angelica scowled. 'Obviously not here.' She abruptly changed the subject, taking her seat once again. 'Order some dessert, Trish, and we'll all have a nice conversation.'
Bob remained standing. 'I'm afraid I have a business meeting this evening.'
'So late?' Angelica asked.
'The downside of being a successful entrepreneur, I'm afraid.'
Tricia fought the urge to gag. By now Doris would be furious-and that's probably exactly what Bob wanted.
Bob offered Angelica his hand. She took it. 'Thank you so much for the dessert. I'd love to take you to dinner some time during your visit.'
'And I'd love to accept. Do call me.'
'I will. Ladies.' And with a nod, Bob excused himself.
'Isn't he just a doll,' Angelica whispered once he was out of earshot.
Tricia took Bob's abandoned seat and forced yet another smile. Her cheeks were already beginning to ache. 'What brings you all the way to New Hampshire, Ange? This really isn't your style at all.'
Angelica sighed. 'I can't keep anything from you, can I?'
Tricia's stomach tensed. Bad news? Angie's twenty-pound weight loss…
Angelica played with the chunky diamond ring on her engagement finger. Her wedding band was gone. 'Drew and I…well, our trial separation proved successful. We're finished.'
Tricia relaxed. Not a total surprise. Drew was Angelica's fourth husband. He was a quiet, studious type, whereas Angelica was boisterous and liked fun and crowds of people. Sedate New Hampshire was much more Drew's sort of refuge. 'I'm so sorry.' And she was. She and Drew could talk books for hours, much to Angelica's chagrin.
'No, actually, I've come to help you with your little store,' Angelica charged on. 'I'm a successful businesswoman in my own right and quite naturally I assumed you'd need my help.'
Tricia gritted her teeth and grimaced. Angelica had worked in a boutique in SoHo for all of five minutes some twenty years before. It had closed within weeks of opening. 'No, but…thank you anyway.'
'Nonsense. I'm here and I'm dying to see the little place.' Angelica raised a hand in the air and within seconds a waiter appeared. 'Please add the dinner to my account.'
'With pleasure, ma'am.' The black-suited man bowed and made a discreet exit.
Angelica rose. 'Come, come,' she ordered and, like a well-trained dog, Tricia jumped to her feet to follow.
Already the evening was not going as Tricia had planned.
Minutes later, Tricia steered her Lexus onto Main Street and under the banner strung across the road that proudly proclaimed Stoneham the Safest Town in New Hampshire. She pulled into the empty parking space in front of Haven't Got a Clue, cut the engine, and waited to hear the inevitable insult disguised as a compliment.
'Oh, Tricia, it's lovely,' Angelica breathed, and she truly sounded awed.
All the brick-faced buildings along Main Street sported a different pastel hue, except for number 221. The bottom floor's white stone facade resembled a certain Victorian address in London, while Tricia had had the brick of the top two floors sandblasted to reveal its natural state. The door, beveled glass on the top and painted a glossy black on the bottom, looked impressive with glowing period brass lanterns on either side. The gold-leafed address numbers 221 shone brightly on the Palladian transom above. The plate-glass display window to the right did sort of spoil the effect, but the effort Tricia had made to approximate the beloved detective's home hadn't been lost on the majority of her customers.
'Surely the address is wrong,' Angelica said. 'Shouldn't it be 221B?'
'I didn't know you'd read Dr. Watson's stories.'
'Please! Grandmother bored me to tears with them before you were born.'
Tricia had never been bored when Grandmother had read her Sir Arthur's stories. As a child, she hadn't always understood them-but she'd loved the sound of all those wonderful words and her grandmother's voice.
'Come on in and I'll give you the fifty-cent tour.'
Tricia opened her car door and stepped out onto the pavement. She held up her keys, selecting the proper one as Angelica got out of the car.
'Do you smell something burning?' Angelica asked.
'No.' The truth was, after being sealed in the car with Angie's perfume, Tricia wondered if she'd ever be able to smell anything again.
'Something's definitely burning…or maybe smoldering,' Angelica insisted. Shading her eyes, she peered into the mystery bookshop's large plate-glass window, then turned her head from right to left and sniffed loudly, her nose wrinkling.
Tricia watched as her sister moved a few steps toward the Cookery. 'Trish, I think it's coming from the mail slot next door.'
Sure enough, a thin veil of smoke drifted from the painted flap in the door.
Tricia jammed her keys back in her purse, scooping up her cell phone, and hurried to Angelica's side. 'Dial nine-one-one,' she ordered, shoving everything into her sister's hands. She grasped the Cookery's door handle, shocked when it yielded to her touch.
The smoke was thick, but with no sign of flames, Tricia took a deep breath and plunged inside. Grabbing the
