'No, it isn't.' Tricia picked up her purse. 'Look, I really have to get back to the shop.' She took a step back, but he reached out, capturing her arm in a strong grip.
'Are you sure you can't stay for another cup of coffee?'
Tricia forced a smile as she pried his fingers from her forearm. 'Sorry. I really have to get going.' She turned and practically ran from the room, then realized it would be bad manners to snatch her jacket from the closet and flee. Yet she stood for long seconds in the empty foyer and Mike didn't appear.
As time ticked on and still he didn't appear, she figured the heck with manners and wrenched open the closet door. She'd expected to find it stuffed with coats, scarves, hats, and boots, but hers was the only jacket amongst the row of dark wooden hangers. She grabbed her jacket, slammed shut the door, and turned to find Mike, hands in his pants pockets, slouched against the wall, watching her.
'Um, thank you,' she stammered, 'for the coffee.'
'I wish you didn't have to leave.'
'Me, too,' she said too cheerfully, the lie obvious. She inched closer to the front door.
'Thanks for the advice about the books,' Mike said, his voice sounding oddly composed.
'You're more than welcome. Glad I could be of help.' She had her hand on the door handle, turned it, and found it locked. Panicked, she pulled at it, fumbling for the lever.
A hand touched hers and she shrieked and jumped back.
'Calm down, calm down,' Mike soothed and stepped forward.
Tricia backed away, afraid he might come after her. Instead, he flipped the dead bolt, pulled the door open. Fresh air and the sunny morning poured into the foyer once again. Tricia zipped past Mike and onto the step outside. The tightness in her chest relaxed a bit and she felt like an absolute idiot for her behavior. She turned back. Mike stood in the open doorway, looking concerned.
Tricia forced a smile. 'See you in town.' Her tone almost sounded normal.
Mike stared at her for long seconds, his face impassive, then nodded and closed the door.
Frozen in time, Tricia stared for long seconds at the barrier between the real world and the stifling air of the lifeless house before she turned and hurried down the steps, letting out a whoosh of air as she went.
It wasn't until she'd driven a block away that she felt anywhere near calm again.
Tricia welcomed the return to the familiar surroundings at Haven't Got a Clue. True to form, Mr. Everett had been waiting outside the locked door for her. As expected, he was full of questions and concerned about the boarded-up shop.
'We will open today, won't we?' he asked, anxiously, as she unlocked the door.
'Yes, although it does seem awfully dark in here. We'll have to turn on all the lights. Let me hang up our coats and we'll get started.'
It soothed the last of Tricia's jagged nerves to walk Mr. Everett through the daily tasks, and it turned out he'd been observant during all the months he'd visited the store as a customer who never purchased anything. He probably knew everything about the daily routine except the combination to the little safe under the counter.
During the three hours the store was open they shelved four boxes of books, waited on fifteen customers, and sold seventeen novels. Not bad for what was usually her slowest day. They also found another twenty-two nudist leaflets. Who on Earth had been stashing them around the store, and why hadn't they caught the culprit?
Staying busy kept Tricia from thinking too much about her panic at being at the Harris home alone with Mike. Then again, too often lately she'd been employing a selective memory-especially when it came to what could be her future. And why had she ever agreed to go house hunting with Angelica?
True to her word, Angelica showed up at precisely 3 p.m., honking the car horn outside Haven't Got a Clue. Anticipating her sister's arrival, Tricia had closed a few minutes early, stuffed the day's receipts in the safe, waved good-bye to Mr. Everett, and was ready to go when the rental car pulled up out front.
'That stupid out-of-state car is still parked in front of your store,' Angelica said in greeting, glaring at the offending vehicle.
Tricia buckled her seat belt as a horn blasted behind them.
Angelica hit the gas and the car lurched forward. 'The shop looks dreadful. Couldn't you at least have that plywood painted to match the rest of the storefront?'
'It'll only be there another day.'
'It's not likely to entice customers. You look dreadful, too, Trish. Those dark circles under your eyes are really unbecoming.'
Tricia bit her tongue to keep from blurting a scathing retort.
Oblivious of her sister's pique, Angelica continued. 'I have big news. I won!'
'Won what?' Tricia asked, glad for the change of subject.
'The parlay on Deborah Black's baby. He was born last night at eight thirty-seven p.m.'
'How did you even know about it?'
'I told you, I visited all the stores in town. The owner of History Repeats Itself, Jim Roth, sold me the square. He's an absolute doll. Too bad he's married.'
'Speaking of dolls, how was your big date with Bob last night?'
Angelica snorted. 'Some date. He takes me to this little dump of a clam shack on the side of the highway and gives me an hour-long real estate pitch. Although I have to admit the food was pretty good.'
A grudging admission if Tricia had ever heard one.
'Still, it reinforces my belief that what this little town needs is fine dining. And I might be just the person to make it happen.'
Tricia was determined not to encourage her. 'I had dinner at the diner last night and only three tables were occupied. They roll up Stoneham's sidewalks at seven.'
'It might have to be a lunch-only establishment. Surely that little diner can't handle all the tourists at midday.'
But Tricia didn't want to talk about restaurants. Her window had been broken at about eight thirty. Where had Bob been at the time? 'So what time did you invite Bob back to your hotel room?'
Angelica's hand's tightened on the wheel. 'I didnot invite him to my room.'
'But surely he took you back to the inn. What time was that?'
'Terribly early. Somewhere around eight.'
So, Bob could've thrown the rock. The question was, why?
'At least he invited me to the dining room for a nightcap,' Angelica continued with disdain. 'Otherwise I would've been in bed and asleep by nine o'clock.'
'What time did he leave?' Tricia pressed.
'I don't know. Maybe nine fifteen.'
Tricia's insides sagged. So much for Bob being responsible, though that still left him a viable suspect in Doris's murder. 'The subject of where he went after he left us on Tuesday night didn't come up, did it?'
'It did. But it wasn't easy working it into the conversation,' Angelica said, her attention focused on the road. 'Bob doesn't like to talk negatively about Stoneham. And the first murder in sixty years is definitely negative.'
'And?'
'He wouldn't say. Just that it was 'business.''
'Typical of him.' There had to be other avenues Tricia could explore, but right now she couldn't think of any so she concentrated on the matter at hand. 'Did you find anything promising on your house hunt this morning?'
Angelica brightened. 'Actually, Bob did steer me toward a darling little cottage that's for rent with an option to buy. The problem is the size. It's much too small.'
'Is that where we're going now?'
'Yes. If nothing else, it's got potential.'
Stoneham's small business district was already past, and trees and mileposts sped by.
'I'm trying to decide what to do with the money,' Angelica said.
'Money?' Tricia asked, confused. 'Oh yeah, the parlay. How much did you win, anyway?'
'Four hundred dollars.'
