“And despite strides against sexual assault, it’s still all too common,” Tricia agreed.
“Poor Susan.” Angelica sighed. “What else made your day so hectic?”
“Mr. Everett told me about a group of homeless vets who live near Merrimack. He used to give them food, but Grace was worried it wasn’t safe.”
“That’s too bad,” Angelica said, taking the frill pick that adorned her drink and slipping off an olive, then chewing and swallowing it.
“Which brings me to my next adventure, if you could call it that. I wondered who I could talk to about those homeless vets to see if they’d known Susan Morris. So I thought about Libby Hirt.”
“Goodness, I haven’t thought of her in years,” Angelica said.
“Neither have I, I’m ashamed to say. Oh, I’ve sent the Food Shelf a donation every year, but maybe I could have done more. She certainly hinted at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I dropped a donation off at the Clothes Closet today.”
“I wish I’d known. I’ve got a carton of things I’ve been meaning to give them, too.”
“Sorry. But as I was there, it gave me an excuse to drop in on the Food Shelf, and luckily Libby was in.”
“And how were you received?” Angelica asked, knowing full well the circumstances surrounding the situation.
“Coolly, but she was willing to talk about the homeless, including Susan. She volunteered at the Clothes Closet every so often—apparently to get a free meal.”
“Who could blame her?”
“I thought I might head out to Merrimack sometime this week.”
“Not alone you won’t.”
“Well, you’re in no position to go with me.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of Marshall.”
“Me, too. It’s too bad Russ and I are on the outs.”
“With good reason,” Angelica reminded her.
“Yes, but he’s got the perfect cover, being a reporter and all.”
“If you can call that rag he edits a newspaper. And why can’t you just pass yourself off as Lois Lane? Are the people there likely to check your credentials?”
“Probably not.”
Angelica sighed. “I almost wish I could go with you. I’ve been cooped up for almost two weeks and I’m bored out of my mind. I wish I could go just about anywhere. Grocery shopping. Get my hair and nails done.”
“Why don’t you make an appointment at Booked for Beauty early in the week? I’ll take you in the transport chair. Pixie or Mr. Everett will gladly cover for me.”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
“What are we going to do about dinner tomorrow?”
“I thought I’d ask Tommy at the café to make a big pan of lasagna and a salad.”
“That sounds good. And I’ll bake something for dessert.”
“Cake?” Angelica suggested.
“Cake it is. What kind?”
“Surprise me.”
“You’ve got it. Now, what’s on tap for our dinner tonight?”
* * *
* * *
It was after nine when Tricia returned to Haven’t Got a Clue. She was about to head up the stairs to her apartment when a loud thud rattled the shop’s back door, startling her. She took a step back, when another loud bang rattled the building. Someone was trying to break into her shop!
Backtracking to the front door, she made a hasty exit and stood out on the sidewalk. She hadn’t yet set the security system for the night, so she did the next best thing and called 911.
“Stay outside the building. We’re sending a patrol car,” the dispatcher said, “but it might be a few minutes before anyone can get there.”
“Okay,” Tricia said as the banging continued. The perpetrator had to be kicking in the door. It was made of heavy steel, but eventually the jamb would give way and he’d be inside.
Tricia retreated to stand in front of the Cookery. Was this break-in tied to the one exactly one week before? What if the person got into her apartment? Surely Miss Marple would hide, but a person who would break into a store might have no qualms about hurting a cat.
Tricia fought tears, worrying about her pet, but then heard the wail of a siren. The patrol car must have come from south of the village’s main drag and gone up the alley behind Main Street. The siren cut off, leaving an eerie silence.
Her phone pinged with a text.
What’s going on? Angelica asked.
Tricia answered.
Come inside my store—right now!
But Tricia didn’t obey her sister, and with good cause, as a second patrol car pulled up in front of Haven’t Got a Clue and Chief Baker himself got out.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
“Yes. Did your officer catch the guy?”
“Henderson pulled up and the guy took off. He ran down the alley, then climbed atop a dumpster and jumped the fence.”
“So the guy didn’t get in?”
“No, but only just. Come on, let’s get you inside,” Baker said, clasping Tricia’s arm and pulling her back into her shop. He hit the switch inside the door, and the lights blazed. “Your security system didn’t go off.”
“I hadn’t gotten around to setting it.”
“Well, that was stupid.”
“Hey!” Tricia protested.
Baker had the decency to look embarrassed. “I apologize. That was unprofessional of me.” For the first time in a long time, he actually sounded sorry. “In the future, please set it as soon as you close for the day.”
Tricia let out a shaky breath. “As you wish.” But it was a pain in the butt to enter her store after dinner with Angelica and have to run to the back to reset the alarm every time she came in late. Still, Baker was right. This was the second attempt in a week, and someone seemed bent on breaching her security measures.
“I meant to tell you that you did well on that TV interview,” Baker said nervously.
Tricia’s mouth dropped open. “Someone nearly broke into my store and you want to talk about that silly interview?”
“I was only trying to make you feel better,” he groused.
The police chief straightened, became all business, and stomped to the back of the store. The new locks had been broken, and the door’s dimpled surface bore the scars of the attack. The lamp above the door must have been smashed as well, for the only illumination that came in through the entrance was from the flashing red-and-blue lights from the patrol car that had come as backup. It seemed like a gale was blowing in as well.
“Well?” Baker hollered to his officer.
“The creep got away,” Henderson admitted.
“Dammit, Henderson!” Baker admonished him. He turned to face Tricia. “You should go back to Angelica’s and wait. I’ll get Nashua Emergency Enclosures to come and fix the door.”
“Don’t I need to make a statement?”
“You can do that later.”
“What about my cat?”
“The door to your apartment is intact. If she was upstairs . . .”
“Then she’s safe,” Tricia finished, relieved.
Tricia pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. “You didn’t seem at all interested in my attempted break-in last week. Will you take this one seriously?”
“You’ve got my full attention,” Baker promised.
Then something occurred to Tricia. “Why are you still on the job on a Saturday night? Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?”
“Diana’s busy tonight, which gave me a chance to catch up on some paperwork. I had the scanner on in the background. When I heard the address, I hurried over.”
Tricia nodded.
“Go on. Go over and stay with your sister,” he said gently.
Tricia shoo
k her head. “No. I need to call the security company and have them send someone out to make sure the system is going to work. It may have been damaged as well. But I do need to call her to let her know what’s going on.”
“You can call the security company from Angelica’s. I’ll stick around until I know you and your store are safe.”
Tricia frowned. Why was he being so nice to her after several years of indifference and sometimes downright nastiness?
Whatever brought on the change, she wasn’t going to complain about it.
“I’d better make that call,” Tricia said, and headed toward the front of her store and the exit. But as she looked back to the rear of her store, she found Baker watching her. Then, rather self-consciously, he turned to speak with his junior officer.
Feeling disconcerted, Tricia dug out her keys to reopen the door to the Cookery. And just what was she going to tell Angelica about Baker’s apparent change of heart?
TWELVE
The Nashua TV meteorologists had been correct in their predictions of rain. The sky was gunmetal gray, and the rain pounded the glass on the skylight over Tricia’s bed. But, gloomy weather or not, Tricia hauled herself out of bed and began her day trying not to think about the events of the evening before. Angelica had begged Tricia to stay the night with her, but the thought of Angelica’s guest room, which was decorated in pink and purple and designed to delight Sofia, didn’t appeal to Tricia—nor did the idea of leaving her cat behind—and so she’d decided to stay in her own home, not about to be forced out by a thug.
That said, Tricia’s sleep had been uneasy and disturbed by anxiety-filled dreams she could not remember upon waking.
After tossing on sweats, she stopped next door, picked up Sarge, and went on her usual brisk walk, grateful the little guy was well trained so she could handle her umbrella as well as his leash. Her thoughts kept returning to the second almost break-in at her store. She’d feel much better once the door was replaced later that day. She wondered what other fortifications she should consider installing. The front of the store, with its big display window and plate glass door, were even more vulnerable, but both attempts had been made at the rear of her store and home.
Walking gave her time to think about the timing of the break-ins. The first had happened just days after that silly TV interview. Could it have had something to do with the crime her security system had thwarted? But that didn’t seem likely, either, as the attempts had been exactly a week apart. If someone wanted something she had, they had taken their time before trying to get it again.
After returning Sarge to his mistress and toweling him dry, Tricia went home and turned to her cookbooks. As per Angelica’s request, Tricia decided to bake a cake for that evening’s family dinner and flipped through the old cookbook that Angelica had given her over the summer for a dessert like her grandmother used to make. After checking the index, she read through several recipes, finally choosing an old favorite: applesauce cake.
Now that she had a few decorating tricks up her sleeve, she thought she might be able to pull off a pretty and tasty treat. While the layers were baking in the oven, she took a quick shower and dressed for the workday. Donning her Great Booktown Bake-Off apron, a souvenir from earlier that summer, Tricia waited for the layers to cool and whipped up a standard American buttercream icing, but instead of using vanilla extract she substituted pure New Hampshire maple syrup. A taste-testing proved it to be decadent, and she began making pink and purple roses. They looked revolting on the ivory frosting, but she was sure Sofia would be delighted.
Once the cake was finished and placed in the vintage Tupperware cake carrier that Pixie had found at a yard sale and gifted her with, Tricia headed down the stairs to her shop, with Miss Marple following in her wake.
The big piece of plywood that covered the opening where her security door had been was an eyesore, but she tried to ignore it as she went about the preparations for opening the store for the day.
Mr. Everett arrived soon after and was distressed to find that someone had again tried to gain illegal entry to the store.
“It occurs to me, Ms. Miles, that I should have reported a rather disconcerting episode that occurred while you were in Ireland.”
“What do you mean?”
“Several days before the first attempted break-in, a rather unsavory character came into the store. He didn’t buy anything, and apart from studying the contents of our front display case, he used the washroom. I was preoccupied with customers, but it occurred to me that he’d taken a curiously long amount of time in there. When I went in back to investigate, I found him testing the door that leads to your apartment. When I asked what he was doing, he turned and ran for the door. I curse my faulty memory for not reporting the altercation until now.”
“What did he look like?”
“I’m not sure I could describe him other than looking like a bum.”
That covered a lot of territory.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Everett. Chief Baker may want to speak to you about it. Would that be all right?”
“Of course. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Tricia nodded.
“And now it’s time for me to do my job and make coffee for our customers.”
“Thank you.” While he made the coffee, Tricia put some cash in the till.
“Looks like we’re ready to begin the workday,” Tricia said, determined to sound cheerful as she turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN. Just then the phone rang. She strode over to the cash desk and the heavy vintage telephone. “Haven’t Got a Clue; this is Tricia. How can I help you?”
“Hey, lady.”
“Marshall, what’s up?”
“Nothing special. I just thought I’d check in to see what was new with you.”
Tricia needed to tell him what had happened the evening before but paused, unsure if she should mention Baker’s kindness. “Mr. Everett and I are all set up for another day of commerce. How about you?”
“The same. Let’s hope this monsoon makes people think about travel—like getting away for the winter and the need to stock up on sunscreen. I’ve got a case I need to unload.”
“It’s barely fall,” Tricia pointed out.
“One can dream. How about you?”
“Now that you mention it, I was wondering if you could spare me a couple of hours tomorrow?”
“What for?”
“Apparently there’s a homeless encampment near Merrimack. I thought I might like to visit the people there to see if anyone knew Susan Morris.”
“I don’t suppose you’d listen to me if I told you to let the Stoneham police handle things.”
“Probably not,” Tricia admitted.
“And since Angelica’s laid up, she can’t very well accompany you.”
“That’s right.”
Tricia heard him sigh. “I guess,” he said reluctantly.
She continued despite his apparent lack of interest. “I don’t think we should take either my Lexus or your Mercedes. It wouldn’t look right.”
“I see your point. Do you want me to dress in some old, raggedy clothes, too?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but you don’t have to wear a tux, either.”
“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “So, what do we do for transportation?”
“I’ll bet Pixie would loan us her junker.”
“We could have it washed and fill up the tank as a thank-you.”
“I like the way you think,” Tricia said, wishing she could give Marshall a warm smile.
“When do you want to go?”
“I thought I’d order some subs to go from the grocery and maybe pick up a case of water. How about around ten thirty?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Great. And if you’re not busy this evening, we’re having our regular
Sunday family dinner. I’d love it if you could join us.”
A long silence followed her invitation. “I’ve already made plans for the evening,” he said at last.
“Don’t you like my little makeshift family?” Tricia asked, feeling hurt that once again he’d rebuffed her offer.”
“I prefer to spend time alone with you. Is there anything wrong with that?”
Tricia sighed. “I suppose not. It’s just . . .” He kept disappointing her in that regard. He didn’t seem to want to make many concessions for her—and after she’d spent a boring two weeks following him around the Emerald Isle.
“Just what?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, trying to add a little cheer to her tone.
“Yeah. I’ll meet you at your store.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Tricia ended the call and set the receiver down. Marshall would no doubt be upset that she hadn’t mentioned the second attempt to break into Haven’t Got a Clue. But as she hadn’t mentioned the first . . .
Tricia reached for her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts list to find Pixie’s name. Pixie answered on the third ring. “Tricia, what’s up? You haven’t heard anything about an arrest for Susan’s death, have you?” she asked excitedly.
“Unfortunately, no. I was wondering if you’d mind driving in to work tomorrow. I’d like to borrow your car, if you’ll trust me with it?”
“What for?”
“To visit the homeless men at the encampment in Merrimack.”
“Oh, Tricia, please don’t go on my behalf. It might not be safe.”
“That’s why I asked Marshall to go with me.”
“Oh, then that’s all right.”
It rather bothered Tricia that Pixie thought she needed to be accompanied by a chaperone . . . but then, if she was honest, that’s exactly what she expected of Marshall.
“So, can I borrow your car?”
“Sure. I’ll park it in the municipal lot.”
“Perfect.”
“Do you guys need me to come in today?”
Tricia knew that if she mentioned the attempted break-in, Pixie would arrive in a hot minute. It could wait until the next day.
Handbook for Homicide Page 11