“The owners have told you to leave?” Tricia asked, disbelieving.
“Pippa had the hotel management experience. I was the groundskeeper and maintenance man. Without her…” He let the sentence trail off.
Forcing him out less than a week after his wife’s death was extremely coldhearted of Nigela Ricita Associates. Did Angelica know about that? She’d have to ask. And yet she wasn’t quite willing to give him her full sympathy.
“I thought you’d already found a place to stay-at least you did last night.”
His expression hardened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I saw you go into Amy Schram’s building last night. Then, darned if all the lights didn’t go out soon after. Was her electricity cut?”
“I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”
“Do the police know you’ve been having an affair with Amy?” she whispered.
“Can I help you, Tricia?” Alexa asked from behind the counter.
Tricia turned and stepped up to the counter, giving her order-and asking for a half dozen of Nikki’s thumbprint cookies before remembering that Mr. Everett would be working for Ginny that day at the Happy Domestic. Mr. Everett’s loss, her customers’ gain.
She paid for her order and waited until Harry had given his. They didn’t speak again until they’d both left the shop. It was Harry who initiated the conversation.
“What I do or don’t do isn’t really any of your business, Tricia.”
“Of course not. But if you were with Amy the night of the murder, you’ve got an ironclad alibi. And if you weren’t…you’re still in the running for chief murder suspect. And now so is Amy.”
“She had nothing to do with Pippa’s death-and neither did I.”
“Does Chief Baker know about this?”
“As a matter of fact…yes. I didn’t kill my wife and I’m damned if I’ll get tossed into jail for it.”
“How does Amy feel about the situation?”
“She isn’t happy. And her parents aren’t thrilled with her seeing someone who’s almost thirty years older than she is.”
“I don’t imagine they would be. So, what are you going to do next? Move in with Amy for the duration? Try to find some work locally?”
“Actually I’m heading for New York on Sunday. I’ve got an appointment on Monday morning with a literary agent, Artemus Hamilton.”
“Yes, I know him. He’s my sister’s agent.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Do I have you to thank for this meeting?”
She shook her head. “Neither of us mentioned you to him.
“He wants to talk about a book deal.”
“For your fiction?”
“No, a memoir.”
“But the ending is still up in the air. Wouldn’t it be better if you could exonerate yourself in Pippa’s murder?”
He didn’t comment.
“And what happens to Amy? Do you just walk out on her like you walked out on me?”
“The circumstances are much different. I was a different person then. I like to think I’ve grown up.”
“And yet you still date twenty-two-year-old women,” she pointed out.
A muscle along his jaw flicked angrily. “I guess the word
“And the word
Harry lifted the plastic lid on his coffee. The steam curled into the brisk morning air. He took a sip and recapped it. “This conversation is going nowhere. I think it’s time we said good-bye-and for the final time.”
“I’m more than ready,” Tricia said, and what’s more-she honestly was.
“Good-bye, Tricia.”
“Good-bye, Harry.”
And they parted. Never to see each other again.
A sheepish-looking Linda arrived precisely one minute before Haven’t Got a Clue’s scheduled opening. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, and hurried to the back of the store to hang up her coat before Tricia could even say hello. She returned to the front of the shop, still tying the strings on one of the store’s aprons. Tricia would have to get one made with Linda’s name embroidered on the side.
“Was traffic heavy this morning?” Tricia asked.
“Um…no,” Linda said, and laughed nervously. “My phone’s been fixed and the first call I got was from your sister, of all people.”
Tricia’s face went lax. That was quick. “I see.”
“I feel extremely flattered that she wants to go to the trouble of…” She paused, as though trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t make her look eager to explore other employment opportunities only three days after being hired.
“I assume you’d much rather work at a nonprofit than in retail,” Tricia said, trying to sound nonjudgmental. If she were in the same position, that was what she’d prefer. But she owned the retail establishment in question. And when she’d hired her, Linda had promised she’d stay longer than just a couple of weeks-or even months.
“You took a chance by hiring me, Tricia, when nobody else would. I have to admit, I’m sorely tempted by what your sister offered. The opportunity to work at another nonprofit isn’t a dream come true, but it would be familiar work, and, if I say so myself, I was damn good at my job. I just wasn’t as young and pretty as one of my less-skilled colleagues.”
Tricia could understand that, too. She’d been let go from the nonprofit she’d worked at for more than ten years despite having more experience than her counterpart, who’d been a cousin of the director. But she hadn’t needed the job to survive, either. Back then she’d had a stockbroker husband with a six-figure income. And within a year of losing that job, she’d also lost her husband to what she called a midlife crisis.
It still hurt to think about it.
“I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch, either,” Linda continued, which said to Tricia that Linda had already made up her mind to jump ship the minute she could. Much as she wanted to be angry, she couldn’t muster any real resentment toward Linda. Instead, she merely felt depressed.
“It’s not entirely up to the two of us. There are two other people involved in this job swap. After the exhibition she put on yesterday, I can’t say I’m thrilled with the idea of having Pixie work for me, and I’ve made it clear to Angelica the terms she’d have to agree to before I’d hire her. Still, I can’t stand in your way if Grace decides you’d be a perfect candidate to work for the Everett Charitable Foundation. I care too much for Grace and Mr. Everett. No one knows how much time the two of them have together. I’ll do anything I can to make them happy. Replacing you would be inconvenient, but Haven’t Got a Clue will survive yet another transition.”
Linda heaved a notably heavy sigh of relief. “Your sister already arranged for me to talk to Mrs. Harris-Everett at one this afternoon. It’s over my lunch hour, so it shouldn’t be an inconvenience.”
“Did Angelica say anything to you about when she would speak to Pixie?”
Linda shook her head. “Although I got the feeling she was hoping she could arrange it for later today. Pixie has to report to her parole officer on Monday. He’s not going to be happy if she tells him she quit her job.”
Did that mean Pixie might agree to anything to stay employed so as not to violate the terms of her parole? A moody employee could become a detriment to the well-being of Haven’t Got a Clue’s bottom line. Tricia would not stand for bad behavior directed toward her customers, and if Pixie couldn’t live up to that edict, then there was no place for her at Stoneham’s only mystery bookstore. Still, Grace had pull. Maybe one of the other booksellers would hire her.
But she was getting ahead of herself again.
“I’m so sorry about all this, Tricia. After so long without a job, and using up all my savings, I’d given up hope that I would again work in a job that I’d trained so hard for.”
