Murder Is Binding

friends here in Stoneham. If there's one thing she hated, it was hypocrisy. I couldn't bear to hear platitudes and regrets from people who had no time for Doris during her life.'

Ouch-that stung, but Tricia couldn't blame the woman. No doubt Deirdre would grieve for her sister in her own way and time.

'Have you had a chance to visit with your niece?'

Deirdre shook her head. 'Her counselor doesn't seem to think it's a good idea. Doris and I looked so much alike it would only confuse her.'

'I was very surprised to hear Doris even had a child.'

'How was it you found out?' Deirdre asked.

Again, Tricia adopted an innocent stare. 'I can't for the life of me remember. It must've been hard on her- being a single mother with a special child.'

'You can call Susan retarded. It doesn't offend me, and it didn't offend Doris.'

Tricia wasn't sure what to say.

Deirdre averted her gaze. 'Being pregnant out of wedlock was one thing; keeping a Down syndrome child was another. Our family abandoned Doris. All except me,' she amended. 'I was the only one who cared about poor Doris. The world in general'-she turned back to Tricia-'and Stoneham in particular-always treated Doris shabbily.'

'Is that what she told you?'

'It's what I observed. But yes, she did tell me that. We were very close.'

'I can't say as I recall seeing you here in Stoneham before this week.'

'I was not a regular visitor. We kept in touch by phone.' Deirdre turned her back on Tricia, picked up her sponge, and began wiping the grimy wall once again. 'Is it my imagination, or is this conversation turning into an interrogation?' She looked over her shoulder with a hard-eyed stare.

'I'm sorry. I was merely curious.' Tricia changed the subject. 'Tomorrow I'll be looking at a private collection of books; the owner is eager to sell. I'd be glad to look out for any cookbooks.'

Spine still rigid, Deirdre gave a curt nod. 'Thank you, Ms.-?'

'Call me Tricia. After all, we are neighbors.'

Deirdre nodded and stepped closer to the ladder. 'I must get back to work if I'm going to reopen next week. Thank you for stopping by.'

Tricia knew a dismissal when she heard it. She gave a quick 'Good-bye,' and headed out the door.

Soft, mellow jazz issued from Haven't Got a Clue's speakers as Tricia reentered the store. Stationed at the sales counter, Ginny flipped the pages of a magazine, while sitting in the nook. Mr. Everett's nose was buried in a book without a dust jacket. Tricia hung up her coat, stowed her umbrella and purse, and headed for the coffee station, where she made a fresh pot and set out a new plate of cookies before heading for the sales counter.

Ginny looked up from her reading, quickly closing the big, fat magazine and turning it over. Tricia leaned close. 'What would you think about me asking Mr. Everett to come work for us?'

Ginny's gaze slid to the closed magazine and then up again. 'What a great idea. I've always felt bad about you being all by yourself here on Sundays. Business is good and he sure knows his mystery authors. Go for it.'

Tricia caught sight of the magazine's name on the spine: Bride's World. Was there a wedding in Ginny's future? She nodded and smiled at the thought, also happy Ginny approved of her decision.

Tricia approached the elderly gent. 'Mr. Everett?' He made to stand, but Tricia motioned him to stay put and took the seat opposite him. 'Mr. Everett,' she began again. 'You've become a bit of a fixture here at Haven't Got a Clue.'

Mr. Everett's eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in alarm. 'I don't mean to be a pest, Ms. Miles. I won't take any more of your coffee and cookies, I promise-'

It was Tricia's turn to be alarmed. 'Oh no-you misunderstand me. I'm not trying to throw you out. I'd like to offer you a job, Mr. Everett.'

Alarm turned to shock. 'A job? Me? But what can I do?'

'Sell books. You're very good at it. You know as much as I do-and probably a whole lot more-about our merchandise, and goodness knows you're dependable about showing up every day.'

Color flushed the old man's cheeks. 'A job?' he murmured in what sounded like disbelief.

'I won't ask you to lift heavy boxes, and your hours would be flexible, but you've already proved to be an asset to Ginny and me when the store is busy. I can't offer you a lot of money, and unfortunately I'm not in a position to give benefits of any kind, but-'

'A job-' he repeated, as though warming to the idea.

'I'd be glad to give you a couple of days to think it over. You wouldn't have to give me your answer until-'

Mr. Everett suddenly stood, a fire lighting his bright eyes. 'No need for that. When do you want me to start?'

Tricia laughed. 'How about an hour ago?'

The old man's lips quivered, his eyes growing moist. 'Thank you. Thank you, Ms. Miles.' He shook himself, then his head swiveled back and forth. 'What do you want me to do first? The back shelves are in a terrible state. Customers have no sense of order. They take books out and then put them back every which way. Or I could rearrange the biographies in chronological order, versus alphabetical, so that customers would have a better understanding of how the genre grew. Perhaps it should have been done long before this.'

Tricia stifled a laugh. 'I'm glad you have so many good ideas. But right now I have a different kind of request. Would you be willing to go next door and make sure Ms. Gleason doesn't fall off a ladder? I don't want you to do anything that puts you in a position of getting hurt yourself, but just make sure she doesn't hurt herself in trying to get ready to reopen her sister's store.'

'I could do that,' he said, sounding less than enthused.

'Great. And tomorrow we'll figure out what your regular hours and duties will be.'

Mr. Everett held out his hand. Tricia took it. 'Thank you, Ms. Miles. Thank you for making an old man feel useful again. I'll go next door right now and make sure Ms. Gleason stays safe.'

'Thank you.'

Mr. Everett started for the door, which opened, admitting Angelica, who paused in the entryway, barring Mr. Everett's escape. They did a little dance with muttered 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' while they tried to maneuver out of one another's way. At last Angelica stepped over to where Tricia still stood in the nook.

'I've never been here when the store was open,' she said, without even a hello. She took in the clusters of browsing shoppers and Ginny at the register waiting on a customer with a stack of books. Angelica nodded approvingly. 'You've created a nice atmosphere here, Trish. And it doesn't stink of old paper like some used bookstores do, either.'

Trust Angelica to spoil a compliment. 'Thank you. I think. What brings you here so early?'

Angelica picked up one of the well-thumbed review magazines. 'I wanted to let you know I can't fix dinner tonight.'

Tricia hated to admit it, but in only three days she'd come to enjoy and look forward to one of Angelica's delicious entrées. 'What's up?'

Angelica actually blushed. 'I've got a date.'

Tricia's stomach tightened. 'Not with Bob Kelly.'

'But of course. I haven't met any other eligible men in this burg.'

'Where is he taking you?'

'Some divine little bistro called Ed's. I hear they've got the best seafood and that it's charmingly intimate.'

'Charming for sure,' Tricia admitted. Intimate as in small. But she didn't want to spoil her sister's anticipation.

'You've been there?'

She nodded. 'The food is very good.' An idea came to her: Bob and Angelica, dinner, a relaxed social atmosphere…'Ange, when you're with Bob tonight, see if you can get him to spill where he went after he left us at the Brookview on Tuesday night.'

'I will not,' she said sharply.