Booktown Mystery 15 - A Deadly Deletion

by Lorna Barrett

  “Could I buy a container for her?”

  Eileen turned and reached for one of the smallest jars, as well as a brochure. “Why don’t you take her this as a gift from Larry and me. If she likes it, she can come back after we open and buy the larger size.”

  “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.” Tricia stowed the jar and leaflet in her purse. “I’m a bit of an amateur baker. Once you’re open, I’ll be back and buy one or more of your specialty honeys.”

  “Thanks. We’d appreciate it. We’re having a soft opening on Tuesday if you’d like to drop by then.”

  “Okay. I’ll be sure to stop in.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Eileen said, and walked Tricia to the door.

  Tricia waved good-bye and was about to head back to Haven’t Got a Clue when she remembered she was supposed to call Ginny. Pulling out her phone, she tapped the contacts list and in seconds heard the phone ring.

  “Hey, Tricia,” Ginny answered wearily. “Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

  “How are you guys making out?” Tricia asked as she walked.

  “Okay, I guess. It’s all so surreal. You have a home you love and—poof—it’s suddenly gone. I don’t know what to do with myself and have been rattling around the suite for the past hour or so. Maybe I should have gone in to work today, but I knew I’d be useless.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask. Pixie and Mr. Everett want to help, too,” Tricia said, and slowed her pace to a crawl.

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’m really bummed that we missed lunch this week.”

  “Me, too. I ended up taking Angelica to the Brookview today for a meeting with Hank Curtis.”

  “She’s kind of sweet on him,” Ginny said with a halfhearted laugh.

  “The feeling may not be mutual.”

  “That’s too bad. Maybe you could tell me all about it tomorrow. We need a lot of stuff to replace what we lost. Antonio’s going to take care of Sofia, and my morning mission is to hit the big-box stores along the highway and stock up on more clothes and baby stuff, but even more, I need a friendly face to talk to. Could we have lunch at Booked for Lunch around twelve thirty? I don’t want to wait until our Sunday family dinner. I think I’d just end up bawling—and nobody needs that, least of all me.”

  “Of course,” Tricia said, her heart aching for Ginny.

  “Okay,” Ginny said, suddenly sounding more cheerful. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Right on the dot,” Tricia promised.

  Ginny ended the call.

  Tricia arrived at Haven’t Got a Clue feeling more than a little down. She tucked her phone back into her purse before entering.

  Pixie had given up dusting and sat in the reader’s nook, holding a book while Miss Marple sat primly on her lap, purring loudly. “Welcome back, Tricia,” Pixie said, and made to get up, but Tricia waved her to sit, unwilling to upset her cat. She settled on the opposite chair. “Did you speak to Ginny?”

  “Yes. She’s very upset, and who can blame her under the circumstances,” Tricia said.

  Pixie nodded. “Yeah, we spoke for a few minutes and she cried. It broke my heart,” she said, getting misty-eyed herself. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “I’m sure the best thing you can do is to give her a big hug the next time you see her.”

  She swallowed and nodded once more. “I will.”

  Tricia unbuttoned her coat and looked around the shop, which appeared pristine. Even the carpet had been vacuumed. Pixie had been very busy before she’d taken a reading break.

  The shop door opened, letting in several customers. Miss Marple jumped off Pixie’s lap and the females of Haven’t Got a Clue all went back to work.

  * * *

  * * *

  By the time closing rolled around, Tricia was ready to sit down for a change. They’d had a superior day of sales, which was good news for her bottom line, but she was pooped.

  After saying good night to Pixie, Tricia headed for the Cookery, entered, and headed for Angelica’s apartment, welcoming the sound of Sarge’s joyful barking. Was there anything so heartwarming as the bliss conveyed by a canine who was ecstatic by your very presence? As Tricia entered Angelica’s apartment, Sarge sailed into the air and Tricia caught his little wiggling body, and as she seldom did, let him lavish her face with doggy kisses, planting more than one of her own on the top of his fluffy white head.

  “Leave poor Tricia alone,” Angelica ordered, but that only made Tricia hold the little dog tighter. She welcomed his love and admiration. So did her soul.

  With one last kiss, she set the dog down and made a leap for the crystal biscuit jar Angelica kept on her kitchen island. She tossed Sarge a biscuit and he happily snatched it up and headed straight for his doggy bed.

  “What treats do you have for me?” Tricia asked, hoping she didn’t sound desperate.

  “Just cheese and crackers, I’m afraid. I hope you don’t mind brie en croûte.”

  Hell no.

  Tricia removed her jacket, settling it on the back of one of the island stools. “What a day,” she practically groaned.

  “What happened now?” Angelica asked, pulling the pastry-covered cheese from the oven and setting it on a platter before surrounding it with butter crackers.

  “The low point? Talking to Ginny.”

  “Oh, dear,” Angelica commiserated. “Yes, I spoke to her, too. Three times this afternoon. That poor child is at her wit’s end.” She shook her head. “Come, get the drinks ready, and let’s go sit in the living room and compare notes on the day.”

  As she’d done the night before, Tricia assembled the drinks and brought them and the cheese platter on a tray, setting them on the coffee table. The sisters took their regular seats, Tricia collapsing against the back of her upholstered chair. “I’m mentally exhausted.”

  “What happened after you dropped me off after lunch?” Angelica asked.

  “Too much.”

  “Did you visit Karen at the realty office today?”

  “I did indeed. And you’ll never guess who owns that piece of land where Marshall took me for the picnic a couple of weeks ago,”

  “You’re right. I’ll never guess. So, tell me,” Angelica said, and plunged a knife into the still-steaming cheese round.

  “Dr. Mark Jameson, DDS.”

  Angelica scowled, spreading cheese onto a cracker. “Really?”

  Tricia nodded. “It seems his wife is partnering up with someone from Nashua for weddings.”

  “Is she a coordinator or something?” Angelica said, and took a bite.

  “A photographer.” Tricia sat straighter and fixed her own cracker.

  “That’s interesting. Are they going to let her into the Chamber if he’s already a member, or will they be considered one entity like I am?”

  “I’m sure that’s a big part of why he stuck up for you. But I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Anything, dear sister,” Angelica said, picking up her stemmed glass.

  “Why does Karen Johnson have such a sumptuous office and the rest of the stiffs in the realty office have to work in a place that looks like the DMV?”

  “Oh?” Angelica looked perplexed, but then shrugged. “I guess I hadn’t noticed. I can’t say I’ve been in the office since I signed the paperwork to sell the house to Pixie. How glamorous is Karen’s office?”

  “Like something out of a French château. Gilded furniture, original art on the walls—it’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  Angelica looked thoughtful. “She e-mailed Nigela asking if she could decorate her office. I never thought she’d go over the top. None of it was paid for with company funds. She painted the room herself and furnished it. I thought it was a great savings.”

  “I’m sure it was, but the outer office just isn’t all that welcoming—for the employees or the clients.”

  Angelica smiled, looking almost gleeful. “Well, I’ll have to do somethin
g about that. That’ll be almost as much fun as picking out furnishings for Antonio and Ginny.”

  Trust Angelica to find the silver lining in a gray cloud.

  “I’m sure the part-timers will thank you for it.”

  “Oh, not me. Nigela. She’s a dream to work for.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Anything else happen today?” Angelica asked.

  “Did you know there’s a new business opening next week? It’s called the Bee’s Knees.”

  “Yes. Brittney over at the Happy Domestic was despondent when they said they’d be withdrawing their products. She’s looking at different suppliers for candles, but will forgo the honey.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  Angelica shrugged. “I want to support every new venture in the village.”

  “They also sell royal jelly.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bee food. Worker bees feed it to the hive’s queen. It’s supposed to be good stuff. Karen swears it has taken away her facial wrinkles.”

  Angelica looked skeptical. “She doesn’t need it. She already has flawless skin.”

  “Ah, but what if that’s what gave her the wrinkle-free skin?”

  Again, Angelica shrugged.

  “As a matter of fact, Eileen Harvick, the owner, gave me a sample jar. I told her about your surgery and she thought it might help work against scarring.” Tricia got up, rummaged through the pocket of her jacket, and returned, tossing the jar to her sister before taking her seat once more. “Let me know what you think.”

  “I certainly will. Did you get any honey while you were at it? Theirs is really good stuff.”

  Tricia shook her head. “But I promised I’d buy some during their soft opening. Maybe you’d like to go with me on Tuesday.”

  “Maybe. But if I don’t, perhaps you could get me a large jar of their wildflower honey. That’s my favorite.”

  “Will do.” Tricia sipped her drink. “There’s another reason I want to go, as well. Eileen’s husband is a former Hillsborough County deputy.”

  “So? He won’t know any more about Marshall’s death than you do.”

  Tricia sighed. “That’s true. But, it never hurts to ask. And speaking of Marshall, something he said keeps sticking in my mind.”

  “What’s that?” Angelica asked.

  “He said a friend of his owned the property where we had that picnic. Since it’s Mark Jameson, shouldn’t he have offered his condolences to me at the Chamber recruitment meeting the other day?”

  “Not if he’s the SOB everybody seems to think he is.”

  Tricia mulled the idea over again. “What if it wasn’t Mark who was his friend? What if it was his wife, Louise?”

  Angelica looked thoughtful. “It’s a possibility, I suppose.”

  “What if they were more than friends?” Tricia suggested.

  “You mean lovers? While he was dating you?” Angelica asked, aghast.

  “Well, Marshall was here in Stoneham for almost a year before we met and we weren’t exactly dating. We were friends with benefits.” Which was why his marriage proposal had been such a surprise. “What if he had the same arrangement with Louise as he had with me?”

  Angelica’s eyes widened. “Maybe you should get checked for an STD.”

  Tricia scowled at her sister. “It’s just nasty speculation on my part—especially without any evidence at all. I was thinking I might seek out Louise’s studio on my morning walk. It’s supposed to be across from the Stoneham Horticultural Society.”

  Angelica shook her head. “What are you going to ask the woman? Hey, were you and my guy bonking behind my back?”

  “What if he was bonking me behind her back? If I didn’t know about her, maybe she didn’t know about me. And if they were intimate, it could have happened and been over before Marshall met me.”

  “It seems like everybody around here is getting bonked but me,” Angelica muttered.

  “You said you were taking a break from relationships.”

  “That was until I met Hank Curtis, but now it looks like he’s more interested in Becca than a shot with me,” she said bitterly.

  As far as Tricia knew, Hank hadn’t loaded Cupid’s bow with Angelica as a target. She didn’t bother saying so.

  “That doesn’t explain how Marshall got permission to take you to the pond for a picnic,” Angelica said.

  “Who says he had permission? He knew about the place and he took me there. It was deserted. Probably nobody even knew we’d visited.”

  Angelica shrugged and sighed. “What excuse will you use to meet Louise? You can hardly say you want to book her for a wedding.”

  “No, but I could book her for a family portrait.”

  Angelica brightened. “That’s a marvelous idea. We don’t have a professional one, though goodness knows we had the opportunity when we were on the Celtic Lady. We should have Grace and Mr. Everett join us, too. I wonder if I should get a professional photo taken of Sarge, too.” At the sound of his name, the little dog perked up his ears and cocked his head, looking incredibly cute. “You ought to get a nice photo of Miss Marple, too.”

  “I don’t know that Louise would even welcome doing pet photos. I think it takes a special skill. Karen said the studio was small. I don’t know if she can accommodate a crowd like us.”

  “If she’s a portrait photographer, she’s got a backdrop just waiting to be used,” Angelica advised.

  “You’re probably right. If I can’t stop in, I might give her a call to see what she offers.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’ll take my walk a little later than usual in case she doesn’t open until ten.”

  “She may be open by appointment only.”

  “I’ll take the risk,” Tricia said. “I’ll text Mr. Everett and warn him he might have to open my store tomorrow.”

  “He’s such a sweetheart, I’m sure he won’t mind,” Angelica said.

  “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” Tricia asked.

  “Since we both had such a heavy lunch, I asked Tommy at the café to make us a salad. How does that sound?”

  Tricia helped herself to another cracker gooey with brie. “Great.”

  “Even better for me. I don’t have to reheat it.”

  They chatted about the real estate’s office décor, Tricia’s calls to Chamber members, and Angelica’s ideas for Ginny’s and Antonio’s new-and-improved home. But Tricia’s thoughts kept returning to Louise Jameson and what she might have meant to Marshall.

  She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

  TWELVE

  It seemed as though the sun had taken a vacation as Tricia woke up to yet another morning of gloomy skies. At least the weather app on her phone told her the good news that the afternoon would bring intermittent sunshine, which would definitely be welcome.

  After dressing in wool slacks, a turtleneck, and the Aran sweater she’d bought in Ireland the month before, Tricia started off on her morning walk, grateful she’d dressed warmly. She hadn’t gone far before she was surprised to see the flashing OPEN sign behind the big glass window at the Stoneham Weekly News. Peering through the glass, she saw Patti Perkins sitting at her desk behind the reception counter and waved before entering. “You guys are already up and running again?”

  Patti grinned. “You bet. Although we won’t be putting out an edition for another week or two. We’ve got to beef up our advertising first—get some money coming in. Mr. Barbero—Antonio”—she corrected herself—“says that although we’re a branch of Nigela Ricita Associates, we have to pull our own weight. We can’t do that without advertisers.”

  “Then let me be the first to buy an ad.”

  “Thanks, Tricia. The SWN team all thank you.”

  “When will Ginger be back at work?”

  “Starting Monday. She’ll hit the phone and make some personal visits to our former advertisers, while Antonio does some schmoozing with clients he dealt with when he worked a
t the Brookview Inn.”

  “Is he working today?” Ginny had mentioned he’d be watching Sofia.

  Patti shook her head. “He was supposed to have coffee with a graphic designer who’s done work for the big boss’s event planner”—which would be Ginny—“but it’s been postponed until Monday. Isn’t it terrible what happened to his house?”

  “Yes, it is,” Tricia agreed.

  “I can’t wait to see the new masthead. Both Ginger and I are going to be trained on a couple of graphics programs so that our ads won’t look so amateurish.”

  “I can’t believe Antonio would use such a description.”

  Patti giggled. “He didn’t, but I can read between the lines.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Ecstatic. I’ve worked here for the better part of a decade and the only training I ever received was from Russ—if that’s what you could call it. I’m going to take some bookkeeping classes, too. Ginger’s excited that she might get to work full-time.”

  “That’s great. I’m so happy to hear that things are about to improve.”

  “It’s been a tough couple of weeks, but it seems like it was all just a bad dream.”

  Tricia wished she could feel the same way.

  “Now, let’s talk about that ad,” Patti said eagerly.

  * * *

  * * *

  Though Tricia had never been a fan of the local weekly rag, she was determined to do her part to make Antonio’s dream job pay off for him. She hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to him about his role in the Nigela Ricita Associates empire, but taking care of the Stoneham Weekly News had to be quite a comedown. She wondered if she ought to bring up the subject the next day when the family got together for their weekly dinner.

  Tricia made her usual circuit around the village but made one detour. She passed the Stoneham Horticultural Society, which took up most of the block, and sure enough, a small building across the street housed the Jameson Photography Studio. It was just after ten when she stepped up to the shop’s front windows, where white lace sheers gave the interior some semblance of privacy, but Tricia could see that the lights were on inside and she decided to pop in to check it—and its proprietress—out. A little bell rang as she opened the door.