Murder On The Half Shelf

Tricia turned away. Was Harry in the back of the house somewhere, sitting all alone, brooding? Or was he in front of his computer writing? Or maybe he had lost himself in the pages of a book.

Why was she even thinking about him? It wasn’t because she cared. Well, she did care. But she didn’t care, too. Her feelings were all mixed up. She felt sorry for anyone in his position. But now she questioned her own motives for wandering in this direction.

She continued to walk down the pavement, into the shadow of the neighbor’s hedges, which were in need of trimming. Sarge paused to give the base of the bushes a good sniff. Tricia tugged the leash, but Sarge had found something that had piqued his interest. The truth was, any smell piqued a dog’s interest.

“Come on, Sarge, we’d better start for home,” Tricia said, but the dog strained against the leash, trying to pull her forward. Had he found a dead bird or something equally smelly?

Tricia yanked her keys out of her pocket and pressed the button on the fob. A thin beam of light cut the darkness. She trained it on Sarge’s head, then raked it along the base of the bushes. Tricia bent lower and could see something yellowish and metallic caught in the shrubbery. Her small flashlight’s beam caught a rusty-colored substance along the bottom edge of the object and her stomach tightened. She yanked Sarge away from the bush and quickly crossed the street. Sarge reluctantly followed.

Tricia pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched number four on her speed dial. It rang twice before a deep male voice answered, “Hello.”

“Grant, it’s Tricia. I’m on Maple Avenue a couple of houses down from the Sheer Comfort Inn. I’ve found something I think you should see.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. And…you might want to bring an evidence bag with you.”

Tricia was frozen to the bone and night had fully fallen by the time Chief Baker’s SUV arrived in front of the pretty Victorian home. She stood under a lamppost stamping her feet in an effort to keep the circulation going. Sarge sprang to his feet and started to bark as Baker exited the vehicle.

“Why is it always you?” Baker asked in exasperation as he joined Tricia on the sidewalk, holding a large flashlight in one hand.

She shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess. Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve found.” She led him and Sarge back to the hedges across the way. “Let me have your flashlight,” she said, and he turned it on for her. It wasn’t hard to find the object-Sarge had his nose right on it once again.

“Hold him back, will you?” Baker said, and took the flashlight from her, inspecting the object. “Is it a-”

“Brass candleholder,” Tricia finished. “Pretty heavy, from the looks of it. It looked like there was some blood on it, too.”

Baker squinted up at her. “Did you see another one like it in the inn the other night?”

“I wasn’t paying that much attention. But I’ll bet if you ask Angelica, she could give you an inventory of everything she saw in that house.”

Baker straightened and looked her in the eye, his exasperation level escalating. “I’m glad you found it, but…I really wish you hadn’t found it.”

“Well, my fingerprints won’t be on it, so that ought to clear me.”

“Unless there are no fingerprints on it. That could mean you wiped it down before discarding it. And what brought you out here tonight, anyway?”

“Angelica went out for the evening and asked me to walk her dog.”

Baker scowled. “And the rest of it?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“You just happened to be walking Angelica’s dog-right past the house where a murder occurred the night before. A murder where you found the body. The body of your ex-lover’s wife. And now you conveniently find what appears to be the murder weapon.”

“Would you rather I hadn’t reported it?”

He shook his head wearily. “No.”

“Why don’t we hope this is the murder weapon, and that it will lead you to the real killer, instead of all this supposition that I held some kind of grudge against a woman I’d known for less than fifteen minutes.”

“You know perfectly well what the DA is going to think.”

“And that should give you even more incentive to prove him wrong. That is, if you don’t believe I’m capable of murder-unlike your ex-boss. Sheriff Adams was willing to railroad me to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. Are you going to do the same?”

Before he could answer, a patrol car with lights flashing turned the corner and pulled up behind Baker’s SUV. “Why don’t you and Sarge wait in my car? At least you’ll be out of the cold.” Like all cops, he’d left the motor running.

Tricia reluctantly retreated to the car. She was freezing. She lifted Sarge, got in, and shut the door. Baker was already conversing with the officer, and they both went over to look at the candlestick.

Time dragged. After a while Sarge gave up watching the men across the road and curled into a ball on Tricia’s lap and went to sleep. She wished she’d brought a book along.

Meanwhile, the Sheer Comfort Inn continued to stay dark. If Baker or his officer had gone to check to see if the owner was at home, Tricia hadn’t noticed. She’d been alternating looking out the window and watching the gas gauge plummet.

Eventually a Sheriff’s Department cruiser showed up. Since Stoneham’s newly reinstalled police department had no technical team, they still had to rely on the Sheriff’s Department for some things.

After another five minutes of discussion, the deputy donned latex gloves and extracted the candlestick from the hedge. Baker finally returned to the SUV to check in with Tricia. She hit the button and rolled down the window.

“If you want to wait here in the car until we’re done, I’ll drive you home.”

“How long is that going to take?” she asked.

He let out a weary breath. “Could be another hour.”

“I think I’ll walk.” She lifted a groggy Sarge off her lap, opened the car door, and got out.

“I’ll come over to your place later. Have you eaten?” Baker asked.

She shook her head.

“How about I bring a pizza?”

Tricia sighed. She had nothing else planned. “Sure. Why not?”

“You be careful walking home. You’ve got your cell phone, right?”

“That’s how I called you in the first place,” she reminded him. At least he was still concerned for her welfare.

“Oh, yeah.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, and finally he just lunged ahead and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. The others had discreetly turned their backs on them.

“I’ll see you in a while,” Tricia said, and started off down the pavement once more. She looked back at the corner. Baker had rejoined the other officers, but he was watching her and gave a wave. She waved back and continued on her way.

After another circuit around the park, Tricia started back for the Cookery. She let herself in and took Sarge back to Angelica’s loft. The lights were off. Angelica hadn’t yet returned from her dinner with Michele Fowler.

Tricia had just locked the door to the Cookery when Baker pulled up and parked across the street from Haven’t Got a Clue. Instead of a pizza box, he held a long paper bag with a sub sandwich inside. It was likely to be smothered in onions and hot peppers. Oh well.

He crossed the street.

“That was quick,” Tricia said in greeting.

“Mr. Comfort hasn’t yet returned home. I’ve left Rogers there to wait for him and have a call in to Judge Weaver for a warrant to search the inn.”

“Looking for what? The matching candlestick?”

He nodded.