Murder On The Half Shelf

Tricia handed her a cup of coffee. “I’ve got lots to tell you, but I don’t want to do it here. Come on upstairs.” Angelica followed without question. “We’ll be back down in a few minutes,” Tricia said to Linda as they passed her and went through the door marked PRIVATE.

Once inside Tricia’s apartment, Angelica dumped her coat on one of the kitchen island stools, hitched up a hip, and took another. “So what’s the dirt?”

“Harry has been having an affair with Amy Schram.”

Angelica’s jaw dropped. “He’s old enough to be her daddy!”

“Exactly. He dumped her this morning and is heading to New York to see Artie. He wants Harry to write a memoir on his missing years.”

Angelica scowled. “The rat ought to be horsewhipped, not rewarded for pulling a vanishing act.” She sipped her coffee. “Anything else?”

“He told me-and presumably Grant Baker-that he was with Amy, but Amy denies it. The funny thing is, she hasn’t spoken with the police. Why would Harry lie to me about it?”

“Maybe he lost more than a career during the years he was among the missing. He could’ve lost his marbles, too,” Angelica said, and took a healthy sip of coffee. “What else has the rat been up to?”

“He told me he was being forced to leave the inn.”

Angelica blinked. “He did?”

“You mean he wasn’t?”

“Not that I know of. I spoke to Antonio just yesterday, and he made no mention of it. In fact, he’s been so busy, he hasn’t had time to do anything about replacing Pippa.”

“So Harry’s lying?”

“Well, he’s certainly not telling the truth about that, either.”

“That makes me feel better.”

“That he’s lying?”

“No, that you wouldn’t be involved in anything so coldhearted.”

Angelica laughed. “Well, that’s a given.”

“So there’s no talk about selling the inn and giving up on it?”

“Why would we sell it? It’s beautiful, Stoneham needs more places for people to stay, and why shouldn’t we make the money on it instead of someone else?”

Angelica-logical to a fault.

Tricia bent down and leaned her elbows on the island’s granite top.

“I need to talk to Grant about Harry and Amy. Only he’ll probably think I’m just calling him because I’m lovesick and miss him.”

“Men! Such egos,” Angelica agreed and rolled her eyes. “Anything else new?”

Tricia sighed. “Mary Fairchild has quit the Tuesday Night Book Club. She says she can’t read mysteries after knowing a murder victim.”

Angelica nodded. “I can see someone being shook up over that. But she’s a real nut for mysteries. She’ll come around. My predictions are seldom wrong.” Lately she seemed to be on a roll.

“Linda told me you’d spoken with her this morning,” Tricia said.

“Yes, and I’ve also spoken to Grace and Pixie. We’re on for this afternoon after Booked for Lunch closes. Three thirty sharp.” She looked down her nose at Tricia. “Be there.”

There was no arguing with Angelica when she wore that expression. Just as quickly, her expression changed to keen interest. “Now, we need to talk about the adventure we’re about to embark on.”

“I figured I’d make a circuitous route to Kelly Realty and wait until you get him outside, and then I’d make my move. You could call or text me to let me know when you’re in position.”

Angelica indicated her coat. “I decided I’d better dress warmly. Bob can be a bit of a blowhard when he wants to be, and I have no intention of entering his office after your five minutes is up.” Angelica looked at the clock and then drained her cup. “You’d better get going if you intend to be in position before I get there.”

“Oh, right,” Tricia said, and straightened. Suddenly her stomach was full of butterflies.

“I’ll use your facilities and leave in ten minutes. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Whatever you do, just keep Bob looking south. If he sees me, I’m done.”

“Yes. The way he feels about you these days, I’m sure he’d have you arrested for trespassing,” she said blandly.

Tricia didn’t like the sound of that, but she didn’t want to back out now. She’d already wasted too much time and energy worrying about it. “I’ll grab my coat and go out the back door. Lock up and reset the alarm for me, will you?”

“Will do.”

“Don’t forget to call me,” Tricia called as she headed down the stairs to Haven’t Got a Clue.

“I won’t!” Angelica answered.

Tricia emerged from the stairwell and closed the door behind her. Linda stood behind the register, holding the latest copy of Mystery Scene magazine. “I’ve got an errand to run,” Tricia said, grabbing her coat from the peg on the wall. “I’m going out the rear door. I should be back in about twenty minutes. Will you be okay?”

“Sure,” Linda said.

Tricia gave her a quick wave, disarmed the security system, and headed out the door.

She took off down the alley at a brisk pace, heading south. She intended to cross Elm Street and walk along the alley behind the west side of Main Street, hit the cross street, and come up on Kelly Realty from behind.

Everything was going according to plan until she made it to the back of Booked for Lunch when a voice called out behind her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

TWENTY-FIVE

Tricia stopped dead to face Michele Fowler, who stood next to the Dumpster behind the Dog-Eared Page, holding a black plastic bag full of trash.

“Uh…just taking a quick walk.”

“In the alley across the street from your own store? Are you lost?” Michele asked in jest.

Tricia laughed nervously and looked at her watch. Angelica would be in front of Kelly Realty in less than five minutes. “No. Just taking a shortcut.”

“To where?” Michele asked, and tossed the bag into the Dumpster.

“Um…Elm Street.”

Clad in wool slacks and a cardigan, Michele crossed her arms and wandered closer. “Wouldn’t it have been shorter just to cross Main Street?”

Tricia laughed again. “Exercise.”

“Angelica told me you faithfully use your treadmill every morning-four miles, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It never hurts to do more,” she said, and started backing away.

“Come over later for a drink, why don’t you?”

“I’d love to. Must get going. See you later!” She gave Michele a wave, turned, and picked up her pace.

She passed the back of the Stoneham Weekly News and halted on the sidewalk at Locust Street as a line of cars snaked its way around the corner from Main Street, headed by a long silver hearse. Whoever had died had a lot of friends. Tricia glanced at her watch. Angelica would be in front of Bob’s place in less than four minutes.

By the time the last car had passed, Tricia saw Angelica leave Haven’t Got a Clue. That gave her less than two minutes to get into position. She jogged around the back of the village park, past the gazebo still under reconstruction, and crossed Hickory Street to enter the alley behind the Chamber of Commerce. She slowed her pace as she approached the back of Kelly Realty. Was there a window overlooking the alley? She couldn’t remember. She tiptoed along the side of the building. Yes, there was a window. She edged up to it and peeked around the window frame. Inside was a small conference room, with a rectangular table and six uncomfortable-