Murder Is Binding

reached for the door.

'Don't lock it-I've asked Bob Kelly to join us for dinner,' Angelica called, rummaging through the grocery bag. 'Oh dear. I hope you've got an onion. I don't think I picked one up at the store.'

'I wish you'd asked me first.'

'Doesn't everyone keep onions?' Angelica asked, looking up from her supplies.

'I mean about inviting Bob. I told you he isn't my favorite person.'

'Like you, that poor man is a virtual workaholic. Why I'll bet he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in ages.'

'What are you making?'

'Stroganoff.'

Like Pavlov's dog, already Tricia anticipated the aroma of one of her most favorite entrées. 'Well, next time please let me know when you're going to invite guests to my home.'

'That's why I invited him. If I'm going to be staying in Stoneham for the winter, I'll need a place to live. I considered staying in one of the inn's bungalows, but I really want more space and I've heard Bob is the best person to talk to about the local real estate market.' And with that, Angelica picked up the sack and headed for the door to the upstairs apartment, where she paused. 'Why don't you like Bob, anyway? What's he ever done to you?'

'Have you taken a close look at his face?'

'Yes, and he's a very good-looking man.'

Tricia crossed her arms over her chest. 'Exactly. And who does he remind you of?'

Angelica thought about it for a moment. 'Christopher?'

'Duh! My ex-husband.'

'Well, that's certainly not Bob's fault,' Angelica said with a shrug and turned. 'I'll go get dinner started. Don't let me keep you from whatever you have to finish up.'

From her perch on the shelf above the register, Miss Marple looked from Tricia to Angelica. The squeak of the door's hinges promised food, and the little gray cat jumped down to follow.

'Traitor,' Tricia hissed, but Miss Marple took no heed and scampered up the steps.

It was another ten minutes before Tricia finished her evening chores, all the while stewing about Angelica's threats to make Stoneham her new hometown. She'd emptied the wastebaskets, cleaned the coffee station, straightened books on the shelves, and aligned the mystery review magazines on the nook's big, square coffee table, and still there was no sign of Bob. They'd never hear the bell from the third-floor apartment, so she was forced to wait until he showed up.

Her irritation escalated to smoldering anger with every passing minute. She peered out the shop windows. Nothing. She wondered if she should give him a call, but then remembered Ginny had given her only copy of his business card to Deirdre. She went in search of the phone book and remembered she'd let the answering machine take at least one call this morning. She'd been too upset to answer it after reading the Stoneham Weekly News.

Tricia played the message.

'Tricia? Hi, it's Mike Harris. In case you haven't already seen it, the Stoneham Weekly News has a scathing report about the murder at the Cookery. I wanted to let you know that Russ Smith is a jerk, and the whole village knows it. He'll sensationalize anything to sell copies of that rag. Don't take it seriously. My day is pretty full, but I'll try to get over to see you later this afternoon or early tomorrow. We're still on for Sunday morning, right? Talk to you later.'

Tricia's finger hovered over the delete button. Well, at least one citizen in the village thought she was innocent.

A knock on the door caused her to look up. It came again and Tricia went to the door. Shoulders hunched inside his jacket, Bob Kelly looked as peeved as Tricia felt.

'Hello, Bob,' she greeted without enthusiasm.

'Tricia,' he grunted and stepped inside the shop.

'Angelica's upstairs.'

He grunted again, waited as she locked the door, then followed her across the shop. 'This way,' she said and started up the stairs at a brisk pace.

As she hit the top-floor landing, Miss Marple was there to admonish her. 'Did you give the cat anything to eat?' Tricia asked.

Angelica looked up from a pan on the stove. 'I don't know what to feed a cat.'

Miss Marple rubbed against Tricia's ankles, looked up at her with hope in her green eyes.

'Where's Bob?' Angelica asked.

Tricia looked down the staircase. Bob was nowhere in sight. 'I thought he was right behind me.' Annoyed, she started back down the stairs, with Miss Marple right at her heels. Bob rounded the second-floor landing.

'Sorry. Had to tie my shoe,' he said. 'What smells so delicious?'

Tricia waited for him to catch up, then turned back for her apartment, with Miss Marple sticking to her like glue. Bob was breathing hard by the time they reached the apartment.

'There you are,' Angelica called from her station at the counter. Already a heavenly aroma teased the senses. 'Trish, take Bob's coat,' she scolded.

Tricia did as she was told, stowing Bob's jacket on the coat tree.

He took in the changes she'd made to the third-floor loft-he hadn't been there since she'd signed the lease. 'It's beautiful, Trish. You've done a wonderful job converting the space into a home.'

She had. But everything was modular-from the pickled maple cabinets to the granite-covered island that doubled as a breakfast bar. Should she ever decide to relocate she could remove everything, leaving the space as she'd found it-an empty shell.

'Have a glass of wine and relax, Bob,' Angelica suggested. 'Or would you like something a little stronger?'

'Wine is fine,' he said, settling on a stool at the breakfast bar.

Again Angelica proved she knew her way around Tricia's kitchen. She took another couple of glasses from the cabinet and poured, setting the merlot before Tricia and Bob. Then she grabbed a pot holder, took a tray out of the oven, and settled the contents onto a waiting platter.

'The seafood around here is pretty good. I hope you like crab puffs.' She offered the plate to Bob, who took one of the golden savory pastries. He popped it into his mouth and chewed.

'These are delicious. Where did you buy them?' he asked, eyes wide with pleasure.

Angelica laughed. 'I made them, silly.'

Tricia selected one as well. 'From scratch?'

'Of course. Have another, Bob,' Angelica said, taking one for herself.

'You're going to spoil me,' he said, but he took another puff anyway.

Angelica set the platter down within reach of all them, pushed the napkin holder toward her guest, and leaned her elbows against the granite, resting her head on her balled fists. 'You look tired, Bob. Tough day?'

Bob snagged a napkin, wiped his fingers. 'I've got problems. Who knew Doris Gleason would have a sister bent on keeping the Cookery open?'

Angelica shook her head. 'I heard all about it.'

From where? Tricia wondered, annoyed. She turned to Bob. 'I believe I suggested you wait to take action on the property. It fell on deaf ears.'

Bob didn't answer, only glowered at her.

'Tricia, behave,' Angelica admonished. 'Bob is our guest.'

No, he was her guest in Tricia's home.

'The worst thing is, this woman-this sister-is making out like I might have had something to do with Doris's death, just because I exercised my rights as the building's owner to do some cleanup and maintenance. She as good as accused me of killing Doris so I could lease the Cookery to someone willing to pay a lot more in rent.'

Good. At least one other person in Stoneham considered Bob a viable suspect.

'Oh I'm sure she doesn't believe that,' Angelica said. 'It's just grief. If I lost my only sister'-she looked