“All right, all right,” she reassured the cat, and turned off all but the security lights before heading for the back of the shop and the stairs leading to her apartment, with Miss Marple scampering off ahead of her.
She thought again of how Harry had disappeared, melting into the shadows on Main Street. But then hadn’t he proved to be very good at disappearing?
THIRTEEN
After another restless night, Tricia began to think of sleep as a hobby she sometimes made time for. She was up bright and early Wednesday morning and had finished reading the paper, slogged through her four miles on the treadmill, and showered, and still she arrived at Haven’t Got a Clue more than an hour before opening.
She’d already started the coffee and was about to open the store’s blinds when she heard the sound of a car trunk slam. She peeked out the side of the big display window to see Angelica standing on the sidewalk, sorting through her key ring. She hightailed it to the door to intercept her sister before she could get in her car.
“Are you off already?” Tricia asked.
Angelica nodded. “I just loaded my ingredients, mixing bowls, frying pan, and a hot plate. Are you going to watch the show? It starts at ten.”
“I meant to ask Mr. Everett or Linda to come in early so I could make sure I wouldn’t miss it,” Tricia said, hugging herself. It was cold!
“Who’s Linda?”
“My new assistant. She used to work for an NPO.”
“Just like you. You can compare notes between customers.”
“I suppose.”
Angelica glanced at her watch and frowned. “I’ll have to meet her later. I need to get going. I’m not exactly sure where the station is located and want to leave myself plenty of time in case I get lost.”
“You need a GPS.”
“I have one,” she said, “but sometimes we don’t agree.”
“Come to the store when you’re done and I’ll take you to lunch.”
“Where?”
“Where else? Booked for Lunch.”
Angelica frowned and stood there staring at Tricia for long seconds.
“What’s wrong?”
“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck?”
“Break a leg,” Tricia wished, in true show biz parlance.
Angelica’s frown deepened. “I already did that once-and it was no fun.”
“You broke your ankle, not your leg.”
“Close enough. Gotta go!” She gave a quick wave and got into her car. Tricia watched as it pulled away from the curb and headed for the highway. When she turned to go back into her store, she saw Mary Fairchild coming up the sidewalk, making a beeline for her.
“Good morning,” she called, but as Mary approached she feared this encounter would be anything but good. Mary’s face was drawn with lines of worry.
“Hi, Tricia. Have you got a few minutes?”
Yes, she definitely looked like she needed yet more hand-holding.
“Sure. Let’s get inside my shop. I’m freezing,” she said, and led the way. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Mary said, and followed Tricia to the beverage station.
“What brings you out so early? Your store doesn’t even open for another ninety minutes,” Tricia said, then picked up the coffeepot and poured them both a cup.
“I’m an absolute nervous wreck thinking about a murderer lurking here in Stoneham,” Mary said, tagging along behind her. “I don’t understand how you can remain so calm.”
“Chances are whoever killed Pippa Comfort won’t want to draw attention to himself by committing any other crimes,” Tricia reassured her.
“Luke has gone off to work, and I can’t bear to be at home all alone worrying about a crazed killer running around. You’re close to Chief Baker-is he any closer to catching the killer?”
Tricia took a sip of coffee and shook her head. When did Mary think she’d had time to learn anything new since the book club meeting the night before?
“Do you think it was her husband?” Mary asked, adding creamer to her coffee.
Tricia chose her words carefully. “I knew Harry Tyler a long time ago, but I don’t think he’s capable of murder.”
“Did you think he was capable of walking out on his life, his career, and his family and friends? And,” she added in a low voice, “you?”
Tricia sighed. “Never.”
“Then he’s probably the most viable suspect. He said he wasn’t at the inn at the time of his wife’s death-but was that the truth? And he practically ran away when he saw you arrive.”
“He said he didn’t want me to recognize him.”
“Do you think it’s true?”
“I do. Or I did,” she said thoughtfully. Now that he was pressing her to talk to Angelica’s agent, she wasn’t quite so sure.
“You’ve been through all this before,” Mary said once again. “Isn’t there anything we can do to speed up the police investigation? I just want this person caught so I can go back to my life and not worry who might be lurking in the shadows or plotting another death. I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I know,” Tricia said. She wasn’t sure what else she could say that Mary would find reassuring.
“I saw Angelica taking off. Is she going to the TV station already?” Mary asked.
“Yes.”
“What’s this big surprise Frannie said she concocted?”
“It’s not a surprise, it’s just a flashy recipe. Crepes flambe.”
Mary scowled. “As far as I’m concerned, pancakes are pancakes no matter how thin they are. And they’re no good without good old New Hampshire maple syrup.” She followed Tricia back to the cash desk and watched as she counted out the money for the till.
“It has to be that Harry Tyler who did it,” Mary said, sounding more sure of herself.
Tricia closed the cash drawer and wished Mary would drop the subject.
“What about Clay Ellington? A man who runs a nudist camp is probably capable of anything.”
“Why do you say that?” Tricia asked.
“It’s immoral-everybody running around in the buff. This time of year, they’ll all catch their death from pneumonia.”
“I think they do most of their running around inside the resort at this time of year. It’s supposed to have a spa, an indoor Olympic-sized pool, a restaurant-the works,” Tricia said.
“Have you been there?”
She shook her head. “Who has the time-or the inclination?” she said, and laughed.
Mary didn’t find her statement funny.
Tricia sighed. “I don’t know the man. And the killer doesn’t have to be one of the inn’s guests, either. If Pippa was killed where she was found, someone probably lured her outside.”
“That girl from the Milford florist was just leaving the inn as Luke and I arrived.”
“Yes, so she told me.”
“Then you’ve spoken to her?”
“On Monday morning when she delivered the urns for the spring flowers outside all the bookshops.”
Mary looked thoughtful. “Do you think she’s strong enough to bludgeon someone to death?”
