would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up and rescued me.”
Tricia stuffed her ungloved hands into her coat pockets, realizing they were as cold as ice, and she, too, spoke to Baker. “Thank you, Grant. I didn’t expect you to go off to Portsmouth to collect Angelica, but I’m very grateful you did.”
“All part of my job,” he said with a wry smile and gave a small salute. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ve got a village to take care of.”
Angelica shut the car door and they both waved as the SUV took off for the police station.
Tricia threw her arm around Angelica’s shoulder and bustled her into Haven’t Got a Clue. “Come and sit down and have a cup of coffee with me-it’ll warm us both up.”
She led Angelica to the readers’ nook. Mr. Everett and Linda approached, both looking concerned. “Is everything all right?” Mr. Everett asked. Angelica was a disheveled sight, after all.
A low growl came from the perch behind the register. Angelica turned to glare at Miss Marple, who’d noticed Sarge’s entrance-although he didn’t seem to notice her.
“I’m fine now, Mr. Everett, but I nearly burned to death during my cooking demonstration this morning.”
Mr. Everett looked aghast. He turned accusing eyes on Tricia. “But you said nothing…”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Can I get you some coffee?” Linda offered, looking stricken.
“Yes, please-for all of us, and then Angelica can tell us all what happened.”
Linda nodded and took off.
Angelica took a seat and set Sarge on the floor. His sniffer went into overdrive as he must have caught Miss Marple’s scent.
“Ange, are you really okay?” Tricia asked, resting a hand on Angelica’s sooty sleeve.
“Yes. But as soon as I drink my coffee I must go home and shower. I don’t think I can stand this burnt smell much longer.”
In less than a minute, Linda returned with a tray filled with cups, sugar, and creamer and set it on the nook’s table.
Angelica looked up at her. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“I’m sorry,” Tricia said. “Angelica, this is Linda Fugitt, my new assistant manager. Linda, this is my sister, Angelica Miles.”
“I’m so sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” Linda said.
Angelica reached for a cup. “No sorrier than me,” she said and doctored her coffee. “What a nightmare. I lost my coat and worse-my purse! It had my car keys, my cell phone-all my credit cards. It’ll take days-weeks-to pull my life back together again.”
“Thank goodness Sarge wasn’t in it,” Tricia said.
“There is that,” Angelica admitted, and reached down to pet the dog, who was more interested in sniffing the upholstery.
“Now sit back and tell us what happened,” Tricia implored.
“Weren’t you watching the show?” Angelica asked, hurt.
“Yes, and I’ve been panicked ever since. I called Grant as soon as the station went off the air.”
“Yes, he told me.” Angelica took a gulp of coffee. “Got any cookies?”
“I’ll get them,” Mr. Everett volunteered, and took off for the beverage station.
“Ange,” Tricia said, her voice a warning. “All I saw was you lurch and the crepes flambe went flying into the set, which erupted into flames. Then the screen went blank.”
Mr. Everett arrived with the cookies, and Angelica choose one of Nikki Brimfield’s famous jellied thumbprints. “I had everything under control. It was going well, except for that uncoordinated oaf with the boom microphone. I mean, what did they need that for? I was already wired up, which wasn’t all that comfortable, either, let me tell you.”
“Go on,” Tricia urged her.
“Well, he kept swooping over us with that thing, and that last time he swung the thing toward me, he hit me in the head with it. Maybe I should get checked out to see if I have a concussion-there might be a lawsuit in this. Anyway, he nearly knocked me off my feet. The pan of flaming syrup went flying and then-
“Then what, then what?” Tricia said. She’d seen all that for herself.
“The lights went off and the sprinkler system came on, and we stumbled for the exit and stood out in the parking lot, soaking wet and freezing. Thank goodness there was a fire station just around the corner. They took us all there, wrapped us in blankets, and not too long after, Chief Baker showed up to take me home. Let me tell you, Trish, I was never so happy to see a familiar face in all my life. It was so nice of him to come get me-especially with the two of you being on the outs and all.”
“Oh dear,” Mr. Everett said, turning his concern on Tricia now.
“Let’s leave that subject for another time,” Tricia said, and took one of the cups, fortifying herself with a large gulp of coffee.
Angelica drained her own cup, set it down, and then stood. “Well, Sarge and I had better get home. Trish, can you drive me to get my car later this afternoon?”
“Of course.”
“And can I borrow your keys so I can get back into my apartment?”
“Hang on.” Tricia retrieved the ring from her coat pocket and extracted the keys for the Cookery and the apartment.
“Now to hope I can find my extra set of car keys,” Angelica said, and started for the door. “I suppose I’ve got to go through all this again with Frannie now. Oh well. At least I’m here to tell the tale.”
“Call me when you’re ready to go,” Tricia said.
“Better yet, just come and fetch me in half an hour. It’ll give me an excuse to cut my story short and get moving. I still have a lot of things to accomplish today.”
Tricia nodded. “Will do.”
Angelica waved as she strode through the door. After she’d gone, Mr. Everett turned to Tricia. “I wish you’d let me know you were worried about your sister. I would have never asked you to speak to Grace with that hanging over you.”
“I only wish our conversation had gone better. Speaking to her may have made things worse for you.”
He nodded solemnly. “I knew that was a possibility. What did she say?”
“In not so many words? To mind my own business.”
Mr. Everett looked appalled.
“It’s okay,” Tricia assured him. “We’ll get through this.” She wanted to say that she and Grace had been friends a long time, but that wasn’t true. They’d met only two and a half years before. Still, they had a bond that Tricia had thought was strong enough to weather such ripples in a friendship. Only time would tell.
The bell over the door jangled and a couple of customers entered. The phone rang, too. “I’ll get the phone,” Tricia said. “You and Linda handle the customers.”
Mr. Everett nodded.
Tricia stepped over to the cash desk and picked up the old Art Deco phone’s receiver. “Haven’t Got a-”
“Tricia, it’s Angelica. Rescue me! Bob just heard about the fiasco at the TV station and is threatening to come over. I don’t want to talk to him right now-maybe never.”
“I thought you were going to take a shower.”
“It’ll be the fastest one on record. Come over, will you?” she pleaded.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up the phone and looked toward her customers. Linda was listening to Mr. Everett as he spoke with the women, taking in everything he said like an attentive student. So far she seemed to be doing well and had quickly picked up the routine. Tricia mentally crossed her fingers that she had finally found a worthy replacement for Ginny.
She snagged her purse and bypassed the knot of people clustered around the side shelves. As she headed back for the shop’s entrance, she paused to let Linda know where she was going.
“We’ll be fine,” Linda assured her, sounding much more confident than she’d been the day before.
