Murder Is Binding

CrimeSpree magazine. He looked up as she approached. 'Everything okay?'

She nodded.

Russ stood. 'Seems like all I've asked you for the last hour is 'everything okay?''

For the first time since she'd seen the cruiser's flashing lights, Tricia smiled. 'The enclosure company will be here pretty soon. They said not to bother to sweep up the glass, they'd clean up everything. If the window's a standard size, they can have it replaced first thing Monday morning. They'll even take care of the insurance claim.'

'Can't beat that for service.' He handed her a paper that had been sitting on the nook's coffee table. 'Here's the police report. And what about your security system?'

'That's another matter. I may have it back up on Monday, but I'm not going to bet on it.'

'Should you stay here without it working?'

'I'll be all right. Besides, I can always hide under the bed with my cat.'

'I'm serious, Tricia. Someone's trying to make you look responsible for Doris Gleason's death, and now this.'

'There's no proof the two events are connected.'

'That's not what you said to the deputy. Do you have a girlfriend or a relative you can stay with tonight?'

Tricia thought about Angelica, remembered she had a date with Bob, and immediately nixed that idea. 'I'll be fine.'

'I've got a guest room,' Russ offered. 'It's got a lock on the door.'

'That's very kind, but-' She shook her head, thinking of the logistics of moving Miss Marple. Food and water bowls, toys, litter box…

The conversation lagged. 'You don't have to stay, Russ. I'll be all right until the repair guys get here.'

'No way,' he said. 'I want to prove to you that chivalry isn't dead in Stoneham.'

Tricia almost laughed, considering the article he'd published on her only the day before. Still, she wasn't about to turn down an act of kindness. 'At least let me offer you a cup of coffee while we wait.'

'I'll take you up on it.'

Russ retreated to the nook and his magazine while Tricia made coffee. Her gaze kept returning to the broken window, which a gale seemed to be blowing through. The rock, quite a hefty specimen, had crashed through her window-no one else's. Whoever had thrown it had had to have the strength to do it. Her chief suspect in Doris's murder was on a date with Angelica.

Who else wanted to frighten her?

Light from the street lamps outside was all that lit Tricia's bedroom. Sleep had not come and she'd been staring at the glowing red numerals on her bedside clock for almost two hours while Miss Marple, curled beside her on the comforter, snored quietly.

Tricia's thoughts followed a circular track: Doris dead: someone wants to blame me. Rock through window: someone out to get me.

She'd taken her security for granted in this quiet little village. Five years ago she'd led a much different life. Until her divorce, she'd never revealed her desire to open a mystery bookshop. She'd lived the life of a stockbroker's wife, had a gorgeous apartment overlooking Central Park West, spent many an evening at five-star restaurants and the theater, her days filled with…not much since the nonprofit agency she'd worked for since college had down- sized staff. But she'd loved Christopher and the life they'd shared, even if he worked much too hard.

And then everything changed.

Christopher changed. Wanted a simpler life. A life that didn't include responsibilities…or a wife.

And yet…somehow they'd remained friends. And right now she wanted to hear the sound of a friendly voice.

On impulse, Tricia picked up the receiver on her bedside phone, punched in the number she'd memorized but so far hadn't used.

The phone rang four times before a sleepy voice answered, '-llo?'

'Christopher?'

Long seconds of silence.

'Tricia?'

She sagged against her pillows. 'It's me.'

'What time is it?'

'After one. Oh, wait-that's eleven your time. You go to bed early these days.'

'It's all that fresh air. There's nothing like it.' She could hear the unspoken should've done this years ago. 'What's wrong?'

'Can't a friend call a friend without something being wrong?'

'Trish,' he admonished.

She sighed. 'Someone threw a rock through my shop window tonight.'

'What?'

'And my neighbor was murdered on Tuesday.' She left out the part that she was the main suspect.

'You're not serious,' he said, no longer sounding sleepy.

'It's all true.'

'All those years in Manhattan without a problem, and you move to a small town in New England to find chaos.'

'Could only happen to me, right?' she said, but the laugh that accompanied it was forced.

'I can't just come over and make it right for you.'

'I know. I wouldn't expect you to. It's just…' She reached out, petted her cat, who began to purr. 'Miss Marple misses you.'

'I miss her, too.'

She dared speak the words she'd been afraid to ask. 'Are you with anybody?'

'Nobody could live up to you.'

'Then why…?' she asked, the hurt bubbling up once again. He didn't answer, hadn't had a real answer the day he'd announced his decision to leave. 'I didn't want a divorce. We could've worked things out.'

'No. I wasn't going to drag you down with me. You're too special for that, my girl.'

But Tricia knew she would never be his girl again. 'Are you happy?'

'Yeah. I am. It's a much different life. It's not something you'd enjoy. You need people. Stimulation. Tell me, were you happy before Tuesday, before all this crap happened?'

'Yes,' she answered without hesitation. Admitting that did make her feel a bit better.

'When things calm down, you'll feel happy again.'

'Angelica's visiting. She says she wants to move to Stoneham.'

'Scratch that, then,' he said, which made her laugh. That's why she'd called. Some part of her had known he'd make her laugh.

'It'll be okay, Trish. You're strong and you'll get through whatever's going on. You'll be fine.'

'You promise?'

'Yes. Now close your eyes and dream about something wonderful. Like a cheese blintz.'

Tricia couldn't help but smile. 'I take it they're hard to find in the wilds of Colorado.'

'You got it, sweetheart.'

She laughed again. 'Thank you for picking up the phone. I'm sorry I woke you.'

'You know you can call me anytime.'

It was time to hang up and actually doing it was proving harder than she'd anticipated. Saying what she had to say would be even more difficult. 'Good-bye, Christopher.'

'Good-bye, Trish.'

Tricia carefully replaced the phone in its cradle, knowing she would never call him again.