Murder Is Binding

Seventeen

Tricia stood at St. Godelive's third-floor nurses' station, trying to make sense of what she'd just learned. 'And you say Grace's memory just seems to have returned-like magic?'

'More like a miracle,' Martha said, and grinned. 'I've worked with the elderly for over twenty years, and you don't see it happen often, but when it does, it truly is a gift from God.'

Miracle my foot, Tricia thought cynically. Something had to have changed for Grace, but Tricia wasn't about to speculate in front of someone working for St. Godelive. Could she trust any of them? Mike would had to have had help in keeping Grace senseless. But who? A staff member? Maybe her own physician? No one else came to visit Grace, so that seemed most likely.

'I'd like to come visit Grace again. You don't see any problem with that, do you?'

'Not at all. In fact, stimulation is the best thing for her at this point in her recovery.'

Tricia gave the nurse a smile. 'Thank you.'

* * *

Dressed in a neon pink Hawaiian shirt, Frannie Mae Armstrong stood on the porch outside the chamber of commerce's offices, watering the fuchsias as Tricia drove past. She slowed and honked the horn. Frannie bent down, squinted, recognized her, and waved.

Tricia parked her car in the village's municipal lot and hiked the half a block to the C of C office. With no sign of Frannie outside, she entered the log cabin to find the secretary-receptionist attending to her indoor plants. 'Hi, Frannie,' she called.

'Well, how-do, Tricia. What brings you back to the chamber?'

'I've been admiring your flowers on the porch,' she lied. 'They're beautiful.'

'I feed 'em liquid plant food. Works like a charm. But they won't last much longer. First frost and-' She made a slashing motion against her throat. 'Then again, the porch roof might protect them for another week or two, unless the remnants of Hurricane Sheila washes them away in the next twenty-four hours. It's always a crapshoot with those babies.' She retreated to the counter and set down her watering can. 'I saw your window had been broken when I drove by yesterday. Did the sheriff figure out who did it?'

'Not yet.'

Frannie clicked her tongue. 'It's just terrible what's been going on here in Stoneham this past week. I would've never believed it. Maybe in Honolulu, but not here.'

'Honolulu?' Tricia asked. Talk about a non sequitur.

Frannie smiled broadly. 'Where I plan to retire. It's a big city compared to Stoneham. Mighty expensive, too. But my heart's set on it.' She pulled at the lapel on her shirt and winked. 'I've already got my wardrobe.'

Tricia could do little more than gape at the woman.

'Now,' Frannie said, all business. 'What can I do for you today?'

Tricia struggled to change mental gears. 'I'm still trying to figure out where Bob Kelly could have been last Tuesday night after he left the Brookview Inn. Any chance you can tell me?' she asked brightly.

Frannie's lips tightened. 'He had a business meeting.'

'With a representative from a big box company?'

'I can't tell you that,' Frannie said. 'I can't tell you any more.'

'Oh, come on,' Tricia chided. 'It's no secret. Everyone in the village is talking about it.'

'Who?'

Tricia shrugged. 'Everybody.'

'Now, Miss Tricia, you wouldn't want me to blab my boss's business, risk my job, just to satisfy your curiosity, now would you? Surely you'd expect that kind of loyalty from your own employees.'

Tricia blinked. 'Well, yes, of course. It's just that-' She realized that no matter what she said, she already looked a fool. 'I'm sorry, Frannie. I didn't mean to put you in a compromising position.'

'Well, of course you didn't,' Frannie said in all sincerity. 'I can understand where y'all are coming from. Things don't look good for you right now.' She lowered her voice confidentially. 'We all read the story in Friday's Stoneham Weekly News. '

Tricia's cheeks burned, but she kept her lips clamped shut.

'It's been said you think Bob might have killed Doris Gleason. Now, I don't know about you, but I prefer to believe in the good in people. My daddy always said hearsay and gossip is just not nice. And I know in your heart of hearts that you don't believe Bob would hurt anybody. He's a good man, and I know you're a good woman. I just know these things.'

'Thank you,' Tricia managed, feeling even smaller.

An awkward silence fell between them.

The phone rang and Frannie picked it up. 'Stoneham Chamber of Commerce. Frannie speaking. How can I help you?'

Tricia inched away from the counter, reaching behind her to find the door handle.

'Hold on just a sec,' Frannie told the caller. 'Now you have a good afternoon, Miss Tricia.'

Tricia forced a smile. 'Thank you,' she said and hurriedly left the office.

An impatient Ginny stood at the door when Tricia returned to Haven't Got a Clue. 'Thank goodness you're here. I've nearly been jumping out of my skin for the last hour waiting for you.'

'What's happened?' Tricia asked, concerned. 'Why didn't you call me on my cell phone?'

'You've got it turned off,' she said with disdain. 'Again!'

Tricia waved her off and headed for the sales counter to stow her purse. 'So what's the big news?'

'We caught her!' Ginny said with triumph.

'Caught who?'

'The mad leaflet dropper!'

Tricia's head whipped round so fast she was in danger of whiplash. 'Who is it?'

'You mean today? Just some tourist.'

Tricia waved her hands beside her ears, as though brushing away a pesky fly. 'Run that by me again. A tourist?'

Ginny's smile was smug. 'It's a racket.' She signaled for Mr. Everett to join them. 'I got her to tell me her part, but it was Mr. Everett who tracked down the whole story, and I think he should be the one to tell you.'

'You give me too much credit,' the older gentleman said as he approached. 'Ms. Miles, the customer told me which bus she came in on, and I went in search of it to talk to the driver. It seems he's seen this happen several times over the last week or so. A man in a business suit approaches one of the tour members, someone who doesn't appear to be with friends. He offers that person money if they'll hide the leaflets in books or other merchandise when they visit the booksellers in Stoneham. He pays them in cash-as much as fifty dollars.'

Tricia crossed her arms over her chest. 'Where did the tour originate?'

'In Boston.'

She exhaled a long breath through her nose. 'It was probably a representative from the Free Spirit chain of nudist camps and resorts. It's helpful information, but unfortunately it doesn't help us stop the problem.'

'Perhaps we could ask for the sheriff's help,' Mr. Everett suggested. 'These people are in a sense littering. Perhaps if a deputy met each bus and warned them-'

'It's a good idea-if it can be worked out. But I'm afraid I have no pull with the sheriff's office,' Tricia said, her unpleasant visit with Wendy Adams still too fresh in her mind.

'Why don't you ask Mike Harris to deal with it?' Ginny proposed. 'He's running for selectman.'

Tricia fought to keep a grimace from pulling at her mouth. 'Mike and I… aren't exactly on friendly terms today.' And she wanted to keep it that way.

'I see,' said Mr. Everett. 'Then perhaps we could enlist one of the other booksellers to approach the sheriff. I'd be glad to speak with Jim Roth over at History Repeats Itself.'

'No, that would be my responsibility, but thank you just the same, Mr. Everett.'

He nodded. 'Very well,' he said and turned back for the bookshelves.

'Did all your errands go all right?' Ginny asked.