Murder On The Half Shelf

He shrugged. “I guess I’ll see you around, Tricia.”

“I guess,” she agreed.

He kind of hovered in front of her for a moment, and she thought he might lean forward and kiss her. But then he turned, headed for the door, and shut it behind him without looking back.

Tricia just stood there, staring at the empty doorway for a long moment before she heard a stifled, “Ahem.”

She looked to her right to see Mr. Everett with a customer and wondered how long they’d been standing there. “Would you like to ring this up, Ms. Miles?”

Tricia smiled. “I’d be delighted.”

The customer moved to stand before the cash desk, setting her books on the glass, and Mr. Everett turned away. “Could you bring out the stepladder, Mr. E? We’re going to do a little switcheroo with the author photos.”

He nodded. “As you wish, Ms. Miles.”

Tricia rang up the sale, adding a couple of author bookmarks and the store’s newsletter to the shopping bag. She’d take down Harry’s portrait and shuffle the others forward, leaving a gap at the far end of the wall. She’d have to hit the stock photography websites to see if she could find something to fill in the empty space.

She’d miss seeing Harry’s face looking down at her.

EIGHT

Although it was almost April, Haven’t Got a Clue’s winter hours were still in effect and Mr. Everett was just zipping his jacket to leave for the day when the shop door opened. Thankfully, it wasn’t a customer-Tricia hated to turn anyone away at the end of the day-it was only Angelica, dressed to the nines.

“My, don’t you look pretty tonight,” Mr. Everett said in greeting.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” Angelica practically purred.

Mr. Everett nodded and headed for the door. “Good night, ladies. I’ll see you in the morning, Ms. Miles.”

“Good night,” Tricia called after him.

“So, you and Bob are going out tonight? I was hoping we could have dinner together.”

“Sorry, no can do,” Angelica said brightly. “Michele Fowler and I are going out to dinner to discuss business.”

Tricia and Angelica had met Michele the previous summer when she’d been the owner of an upscale art gallery. Thanks to the economy that refused to improve, that business had folded. But, as expected, Michele had rebounded.

“That woman could talk to whales under the ocean-and she has far more experience in the restaurant trade than you do. So what could you possibly have to talk about?” Tricia asked.

Angelica straightened her tan leather gloves, which perfectly complemented her camel’s-hair coat. “She wants to pick my brain about how to best get along in such a small town.”

“Like you’re an expert?” Tricia asked. “You’ve lived here all of two and a half years.”

“Which is plenty of time for me to have learned the ropes.” She offered a conciliatory smile. “Why don’t you come along with us-in fact, that’s why I stopped by.”

Tricia frowned. “What? And sit there all night just waiting for an opening to ask you to pass the pepper and salt? I’d never get a word in edgewise.”

“Why, Tricia, I do believe you’re jealous that Michele and I are friends,” Angelica said with glee.

“Of course not.” That was a bald-faced lie. Good thing she didn’t have her hand on a stack of Bibles.

“Oh, yes you are. Every time I mention Michele’s name, your eyes get all squinty and you seem to wince.”

“I think she’s a lovely person, and she’s extremely lucky to have a friend like you.”

Angelica positively preened. “Yes, she is-on both counts. We always have such fun when we’re together. I haven’t had a close girlfriend to confide in for ages.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Tricia asked.

“You’re my sister. It’s different,” Angelica said with a dismissing wave of her hand.

Tricia couldn’t help but feel hurt. During her entire childhood Angelica had shut Tricia out of her life. It had taken them forty years to become friends, and now this larger-than-life woman was spoiling the closeness they had shared for the past two-plus years.

Angelica seemed oblivious to her distress. “I was wondering, would you be a dear and let Sarge out this evening?” Ah, the real reason for her visit. “I hate to think of the poor little guy all alone with his tiny legs crossed. Better yet, I could bring him to your apartment and-”

“You know Sarge and Miss Marple don’t get along. It’s not fair for me to allow Sarge into the apartment to torment her.”

“They’d get along fabulously if you’d only let them get acquainted,” Angelica insisted.

Tricia held up a hand. “We’re not going to talk about this again. But I will let Sarge out. I won’t see an animal suffer because its mistress is negligent or cruel.”

“I’m going out to dinner, not on a death march,” Angelica said and glanced at the clock. “Oh, I’m late.”

“Where are you meeting Michele?”

“I’m picking her up in Milford. Did you know she got an apartment there?”

“Yes, I seem to remember you telling me that before.” About twenty times before.

“We’re going to try a new family restaurant in Merrimack.”

“That doesn’t sound like your style.”

“She’s going to hire someone to work the grill at the Dog-Eared Page.”

“It doesn’t even open for another month.”

“You can’t leave these things until the last minute.” She wiggled her fingers and started for the door.

“When will Sarge need to go out?” Tricia called after her.

“I let him out about an hour ago. He should be good until eight or nine. Although eight is better for my carpets. Ciao!” Angelica said, and pulled the door closed behind her.

A disgruntled “Yow!” sounded from behind the shelf on the wall where Miss Marple liked to perch. Other than that, the store was silent. Tricia was glad the clock on the wall didn’t tick loudly; that would just reinforce her sense of loneliness.

“This is ridiculous. I am used to living alone,” she said to herself, and Miss Marple jumped down on the sales counter to rub her head against Tricia’s arm, as if to remind her she wasn’t totally without company. Tricia scratched the top of Miss Marple’s head, and the cat’s purr went into overdrive.

Tricia locked up the day’s receipts, tidied the store, and vacuumed, but all those tasks took only fifteen minutes. She still had the rest of the evening in front of her. She could watch TV or read but didn’t feel the need to do either. It was nearing her own dinner hour, but she wasn’t particularly hungry and wondered if a brisk walk would do her some good. As long as she as going, she figured she might as well take Sarge out, too.

Donning her coat and a Polar fleece hat, she grabbed her keys, shut off all but the security lights, and locked the door behind her. Three minutes later, she and an enthusiastic Sarge were on the sidewalk, striding toward the village park once again.

The lights were still on at the Patisserie as Tricia passed. She waved to Nikki Brimfield, who was swabbing out one of her big glass display cases, and gave a cheerful wave in return. That reminded Trisha that she needed to buy some cookies for her customers the next morning. Something else for her to-do list.

She stopped at the corner and, as before, Sarge promptly sat awaiting the command that it was safe to go. Since there was no traffic, Tricia tugged the leash and he sprang to his feet, eager to set off again.

They did a quick circuit around the park, but as the wind wasn’t as strong as Tricia had anticipated, she decided to head on down one of the side streets. Sarge was quite happy to trot along by her side.

Minutes later Tricia found herself heading up Maple Avenue. She slowed her pace as she neared the Sheer Comfort Inn. Unlike the last time she saw it, there were no welcoming lights in its mullioned windows. Even the sconces along the front door were dark so that the porch was bathed in shadows.