Murder On The Half Shelf

“I do, too.”

Angelica just shrugged and attended to her sugar-and-butter mixture, which was beginning to bubble. She inspected the tray covered with crackers, neatened up the rows, and then poured the hot mixture over the crackers. She placed it in the oven. “Now to let it bake for five minutes.” She adjusted the stove’s timer.

Angelica served herself the last of the wine and went looking for more. Sadly, that was the last of it. “You need to make a grocery run and restock your wine cellar.”

“I’ve had a lot of help drinking the last few bottles,” Tricia said, and drained her own glass. She sighed, allowing herself to pout. “I wouldn’t have to drink so much if my life weren’t such a mess.”

“Cheer up,” Angelica said without sympathy, “It can’t get much worse.” She bent to look into the oven to check on the crackers, which were madly frothing. The stove timer went off, so she grabbed a pot holder and removed the tray. “Hand me the chocolate chips, will you?”

Tricia did. Angelica sprinkled them over the crackers, then reached for a spatula. “When they’re all nice and gooey, I’ll spread the chocolate around. Oh dear. I forgot. They need to sit in the fridge for an hour or so before they can be eaten.”

“So much for a quick treat,” Tricia groused.

“Let them cool for a minute and eat one anyway. To err is human. To hang around waiting for perfection is just too damn long. You might want to apply that last little piece of advice to your love life, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been hanging around for nearly eighteen months waiting for Grant Baker to find time for you. It’s time to move on, my girl.”

“And we’ve talked about how slim the pickings are around here.”

“Then broaden your horizons. Why not try a dating service?”

“Have you been talking to Frannie?” Tricia asked suspiciously.

“Only about her own love life-not yours, which is nonexistent. You’re not getting any younger.”

“Neither are you. And if I’m not mistaken, you and Bob have been on the outs for quite some time, too.”

“I’m busy with my careers. For the first time in my life, I really haven’t got time for romance, and I must say I don’t miss it all that much. But I’m not swearing off men-just taking a much-needed hiatus. And the next man I commit to had better be monogamous. Or else.”

Angelica poked at the cooling crackers, broke off a piece, and offered it to Tricia. She took a bite and her eyes widened with delight. She chewed and swallowed. “Whoa-who knew such innocent ingredients could taste so decadent.”

Angelica laughed. “I’ll make a cook out of you yet, darling Trish. And I’ve always found that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You might want to try that approach yourself.”

Tricia broke off another piece of the candy and ate it. The stuff was seriously addictive, even if it did stick to her molars. Still, she hardly needed Angelica’s advice when it came to men. And she remembered a conversation she’d had earlier that day.

“Were you serious when you said you were going to call your agent tomorrow?”

“Of course. Why?”

“I spoke to Harry this morning. He’s still writing. And he’s looking for a literary agent.”

“He’s not getting mine,” Angelica snapped, and opened the fridge to make room for the baking tray. “Let him get his own agent. And why in the world would you want to help him, anyway, after he left you, his family, his publisher, and his agent in the lurch twenty years ago? What’s to say he wouldn’t go and do it again-especially with a murder rap hanging over his head?”

“He hasn’t been charged with anything,” Tricia pointed out.

“Yet,” Angelica countered, and collected her jacket. “Grandma always said, ‘A leopard doesn’t change its spots.’ Besides, you have enough men problems without adding him to the mix.”

Tricia hated to admit Angelica was right. She ignored her. Anyway, Artemus owed her a favor, and she could call or e-mail him herself…but she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to do that. Angelica was right about that, too. Had Harry changed, or was he likely to just cut and run again?

Harry Tyler was going to have to prove himself. And how long was that going to take, and how was Tricia to know he was worthy of her friendship, let alone anything deeper?

“Now, about this candy,” Angelica said. “Leave it in the fridge for an hour. After it sets, you can break it up into pieces. It’ll be something fabulous to offer Mr. Everett and your customers tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Tricia said grudgingly.

Angelica pouted. “Trish, forget Harry. Forget Grant Baker. Concentrate on being the best shop owner Stoneham has ever seen.”

“And be lonely for the rest of my life?”

Angelica shook her head. “I’m done talking at you, since it’s obvious you have no intention of listening to my golden words of wisdom.” She grabbed her coat and headed for the door to the stairway. “Think about what I’ve said, though. Good advice is seldom taken-and that’s the only kind I have to give.”

Tricia got up to follow her, but Angelica held up a hand to stop her. “I can see myself out-and lock up and reset the security system downstairs. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Angelica closed the door and, frowning, Tricia locked it behind her.

She absolutely hated it when Angelica was right.

TEN

Tricia’s morning started as most mornings did. A run on the treadmill, a shower, getting dressed, feeding the cat, and drinking half a pot of coffee with a breakfast of black cherry yogurt. Only this morning Tricia extracted most of the candy Angelica had made the night before, put it on a plate, and took it down to the shop with her. It was too tempting to keep it all in the apartment. And as Angelica said, Mr. Everett and her customers would probably enjoy it.

Down in the shop, Miss Marple settled herself on a chair in the reader’s nook while Tricia checked voice mail and found a message from the employment agency. They were sending over a new candidate at ten thirty and awaited a confirmation. She quickly returned the call. Would this person be the one to finally replace Ginny? All she could do was hope.

Tricia had just hit the button on the coffeemaker when Mr. Everett arrived for work several minutes early, still looking as sad as he had the day before. “Good morning,” he greeted Tricia, but there was no heartiness in his voice.

Tricia waited until he’d donned his Haven’t Got a Clue apron to approach him on what might be a sensitive subject. Mr. Everett wasn’t usually one to wear his heart on his sleeve. That he was visibly unhappy meant something was definitely out of kilter. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s hard to keep anything from you, Ms. Miles. Like the protagonists in many of your favorite mysteries, you would have made a fine detective.”

“It doesn’t take great sleuthing skill to see that you haven’t been your usual chipper self of late. Is there something I can do to help?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps you can. A man my age has outlived most of his friends,” Mr. Everett admitted. “Except for Grace, I have no one else to confide in.”

Oh dear. It didn’t sound like an announcement of good news was on the way. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” Tricia said in all sincerity.

His cheeks colored, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s…my marriage to Grace.”

Oh no! Trouble in paradise. They were the one couple she thought would never experience marital strife.

“You see, Grace is so preoccupied with running the charitable foundation, she has very little time for me any more.”

Hmm. “Have you spoken to her about it?”