Murder On The Half Shelf

anything.”

“We should call 911.”

“And what if there’s nobody up there?”

“Then we’ll look like a couple of scared women-which we are. Better safe than sorry, I always say.”

“You’ve never said that,” Angelica complained. She let out a huffy breath. “I’d say you were crazy if Sarge hadn’t kicked up a fuss, but since he has…”

Tricia retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and quickly punched in the number. The dispatcher answered almost immediately. “Are you calling again?” the voice demanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“First you called Sunday night to report an accident that turned out to be a murder, and then you called this afternoon for an ambulance.”

“Yes, and the reason I’m calling now is so that someone can come and check out the Cookery to make sure that the murderer who’s still running around doesn’t kill us, too!”

“We’ll send someone right over. Do you want to remain on the phone?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tricia said, and ended the call. “Gosh, she’s snippy. You’d think a 911 operator would be a little more professional. I’ve a mind to tell Grant…” But then she remembered she and Baker weren’t exactly on friendly terms at that moment.

“Chauncey didn’t want us to mention he’d been mugged. Should we report it anyway?”

“No,” Tricia said. “That would be a breach of confidence.”

“Well, they’re going to wonder why we wandered off and left the door open for a good half hour.”

Hmm.

They moved to the front of the store to wait, and Tricia wondered if they should arm themselves with marble rolling pins from one of the display racks. Before she had time to act on that thought, the blue flashing lights of a Stoneham police cruiser pulled up in front of the Cookery. The beefy officer got out of his car, resting a hand on the butt of his gun and the top of his nightstick before he approached the store. Angelica handed the leash to Tricia once again and met him at the door. As soon as she opened it, Sarge started barking once again.

“Hush!” Angelica said, and the dog immediately quieted. “Hello,” she greeted the officer.

“So you think you’ve got a prowler on the premises?”

“Maybe. We kind of…took the dog for a walk and left the back door open,” Angelica said with a titter. “We were gone about half an hour…”

“We thought we should err on the side of caution, especially since you haven’t arrested whoever killed Pippa Comfort on Sunday night,” Tricia finished.

“Have you searched the ground floor?” Officer Martinez asked.

“There aren’t many places down here one could hide,” Angelica said, her eyes roving to the washroom in the back.

“I’ll take a look. You ladies wait here.”

They nodded and retreated to stand by the big display window.

After looking around the store and checking out the washroom, the officer headed up the stairs.

Twin beams of light sliced the darkness on Main Street, and Tricia recognized the SUV that pulled up on the opposite side of the street. “Oh no,” she groaned.

Angelica turned to look. “Is that…?”

Tricia grimaced. “It’s Grant, all right. We’re in big trouble now.”

TWENTY

“Tricia!”

How could one spoken word convey so many different implications? Exasperation seemed dominant. Disapproval seemed to be second on the list. And at a far third might-might-be actual concern.

“What are you doing here?” Tricia asked Chief Baker, and frowned.

“When I heard the address on my scanner, I naturally grabbed my coat and jumped in my car to find out what was happening. Are you okay?”

So, he did still care.

“Yes, we’re both okay,” Angelica answered, perturbed, and Sarge issued a low growl, baring his teeth.

“Don’t mind Sarge,” Tricia said, indicating the dog. “He’s very protective of Angelica.”

Sarge gave another growl to make sure Baker understood who was top dog.

Baker ignored him. “So, what’s going on?”

Tricia told him-leaving out all mention of their encounter with Chauncey Porter and feeling guilty for doing so. But her gut feeling was that Chauncey was innocent of Pippa Comfort’s death. Still, he might be a target of whoever killed her. And the most likely suspect was still Harry Tyler. Even if he hadn’t killed his wife, she might have told him how Chauncey had recognized her, conveying her anger, and even though she was now dead, Harry might still have punished Chauncey for bringing up a sore-or shameful-subject to Pippa.

Oh yeah? something inside her taunted. Harry had told her he and Pippa weren’t even close anymore. Would he really care to avenge her reputation now that she was dead?

He might. If it helped restore his.

Baker waved a hand in front of Tricia’s face to gain her wandering attention. “What are you thinking about?” he asked suspiciously.

Tricia shook herself. “Oh, nothing important.”

Baker looked skeptical. “Sure.” Only he dragged the word out for at least four seconds. He turned his attention to Angelica. “Are you in the habit of taking your dog for a walk and leaving the door wide open?”

Angelica faced him, offended. “No.”

“Then why tonight?”

“Sarge caught the scent of something and dragged us along.”

Well, she hadn’t lied, but neither did she admit the truth.

“Uh-huh,” Baker uttered, and still looked unconvinced.

The uniformed officer came back downstairs. “All clear,” he called and then, at the sight of his boss standing in the middle of the shop, came to a halt and straightened. “Chief. What are you doing here?”

“Just following up. Go get the big flashlight out of your cruiser. Ms. Miles here”-he indicated Angelica-“says her dog was interested in something in the alley. I’d like to take a look.”

“Sure thing.”

The young officer left the store in a hurry.

Angelica sighed. “I need a drink-preferably alcoholic-and hopefully incredibly strong, thanks to the day I’ve had.”

“We’re not quite through here,” Baker said.

Angelica sighed. “I can see why you installed comfortable upholstered chairs in your store, Tricia. I could sure go for one right now.”

“What do you hope to find in the alley?” Tricia asked Baker.

“Hopefully, nothing.”

“Yes, me, too,” Angelica said, “because upstairs there’s a gin and tonic with my name on it.”

The officer returned, and he and Baker went out the back door.

“Oh no!” Tricia hissed. “What if they find the blood?”

Angelica looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “What blood?”

“Chauncey’s head was bleeding. There was a patch of blood on the asphalt.”

“Oh. That blood.” Angelica bit her lip and shrugged. “It’s dark. They’ll never see it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

But they did see it.

Not five minutes later Baker came back into the store, his expression grim. “I don’t mean to alarm you ladies,