The waiter nodded and again took off.
Grace picked up her glass and sampled her drink. “Quite nice.”
Tricia did likewise. Quite nice indeed.
“Elizabeth was a member of the Stoneham School Board for almost a decade,” Grace said conversationally.
“That’s where my interest was piqued about children in the foster care system. When the opportunity came to work for Intervention, I jumped at the chance.”
“Tricia once worked for a nonprofit as well.”
“That was a long time ago,” Tricia said modestly. “I understand you were on the school board at the same time as Vera Olson.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said gravely.
“Did you hear about her untimely death?” Grace asked. Coming from her, the question sounded more like a concerned query rather than the opening for salacious gossip.
Elizabeth looked troubled. “Yes.” It seemed like she wanted to say more but appeared to be biting her tongue.
“I only met her once,” Tricia said casually. “In fact, it was the day she died. She came to the Have a Heart bookstore when I was there and practically laid out the owner in lavender—if you’ll pardon that expression—for cutting a branch from one of her trees that hung over Vera’s neighbor’s house and yard.”
“Vera was never one to keep her feelings hidden,” Elizabeth said tactfully. “She was passionate about many things, but animal abuse was her major pet peeve.”
“We feel the same way, don’t we, Tricia?” Grace asked.
“Indeed.”
“We have cats,” Grace said as though to answer Elizabeth’s unasked question. “Did Vera have any family?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I believe so, although she never much spoke about them. She had no children. I don’t believe she ever married. She was pragmatic, with strong opinions, and wasn’t above rattling a few cages, if you’ll pardon the animal pun, but I can’t imagine she’d provoke someone to murder.”
Could Tricia get away with more questions pertaining to Vera’s personality, or should she concentrate on the other topic she had in mind?
The waiter returned with Elizabeth’s coffee and she immediately picked up her menu to order. She probably had other meetings to attend with prospective donors. Tricia and Grace ordered, too.
“You must have seen a lot of changes to the school system during your tenure,” Tricia said, to steer Elizabeth onto a new topic.
“I keep up with what’s going on.”
“Were the high school’s home economics classrooms mothballed while you were on the board?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Not many students were interested in the domestic arts. When Mrs. Gilchrist, the home ec teacher, retired, they suspended the classes due to dwindling enrollment.”
“I understand those rooms are being resurrected for the upcoming Great Booktown Bake-Off,” Tricia said innocently.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Thanks to a grant from the Everett Foundation, and a nice donation from the Good Food Channel, come September they’ll be offering several courses for students who are interested in careers in the food industry. They’ve been renamed the culinary rooms.”
“I’m so glad we were able to be a part of its restoration,” Grace said, and sipped her martini.
“For too long we’ve been trying to steer all of our students toward a college education. There’s nothing wrong with aspiring to higher education, but student debt can be crushing, and many industries are looking for skilled workers in the manual arts. That’s another reason why Intervention has consulted with the board to revive classes to prepare students for construction apprenticeships, plumbing, and metalworking. Those jobs pay well and there’s a national shortage of workers.”
Tricia nodded. She knew about such shortages. Contractors seemed to be few and far between these days, and finding good ones was even harder. “And those students interested in the culinary arts?” she asked.
“Starting in the upcoming school year, we can now accommodate them.”
“And that’s thanks in part to the Bake-Off?” Grace asked.
“Yes. They’d already had student input, and when the opportunity arose earlier this year to pursue the Bake-Off—they leapt at the chance,” Elizabeth admitted.
All of which sounded like a win-win situation not only for the students interested in careers in food service but as a great public relations opportunity to trumpet Stoneham to the world at large. Unfortunately, it seemed that Russ Smith had missed the boat when it came to the Chamber of Commerce endorsing the competition. Angelica—and Tricia, had she won the last Chamber election—would have jumped at the chance to herald the positives when it came to investing in the continuing rejuvenation of the once dying village. With Russ’s tepid interest in his job as Chamber president, the community at large would have to take up the task.
“It sounds like you know a lot about the Bake-Off,” Tricia said.
Elizabeth blushed. “As it happens, I was to be one of the judges as a representative of the Booktown Ladies Charitable Society.”
“You were?” Grace said, sounding surprised.
Elizabeth nodded sadly. “My sister is having knee replacement surgery that day and asked me to be there for her. The head of the society, Adelaide Newberry, will be taking my place.”
“My sister and I have both signed up to be contestants,” Tricia confided. “Do you know how many others we’ll be competing against?”
“Less than we anticipated. Only eight—which means we’ve had to cancel the second session on the day of the amateur competition.”
Tricia’s mood took a definite upswing. Eight! She was a novice; she’d been worried about how she was going to compare to more experienced bakers. Her chances of winning had just risen exponentially.
“I would dearly love to see the rooms before the competition,” Tricia said wistfully. “Just to get the lay of the land.”
“I’d be happy to arrange it with Principal Randall,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, Elizabeth—that would be too kind of you.”
“Not at all. I can imagine how stressful it will be the day of the contest. If you know how things are laid out, it might ease your anxiety before the Bake-Off.”
“Thank you so much.”
“If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call later this afternoon.”
Tricia reached for her purse and withdrew one of her business cards and handed it to Elizabeth, just as the waiter returned with their lunch orders.
Elizabeth looked at her watch.
“Are you in a hurry to get back to work?” Grace asked.
“I’m afraid so. I may have to take a few days off work when my sister gets out of the hospital. And I’m so sorry I’ll have to miss this once-in-a-lifetime event.”
Once in a lifetime?
Vera Olson had just missed it. Her life was over—and not from natural causes.
TEN
Tricia arrived back at Haven’t Got a Clue to find the store devoid of customers and Pixie and Mr. Everett once again reading in the comfortable chairs of the nook. Miss Marple lay sprawled across the coffee table, her head resting on a pile of old Suspense Magazines, looking utterly exhausted from yet another hard day of napping.
“Looks like a quiet afternoon,” Tricia commented, taking the third seat.
“The day’s not over and we’ve done well today,” Pixie assured her.
“Haven’t Got a Clue is always in good hands with you at its helm,” Tricia said, and smiled, but her favorite day of the week was now Sunday because that was Pixie’s day off—the day she was in charge of the store, when she got to interact with the customers, when Haven’t Got a Clue was hers alone once more.
Tricia caught sight of Pixie’s reassuring smile and felt guilty. She had encouraged her protégée to excel and now she felt jealou
s because it no longer felt like her beloved vintage bookstore was her own.
Pixie frowned, her gaze fixed on Tricia’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Tricia shook herself. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Because you seem . . . sad.”
Tricia forced a smile. “I guess I’m preoccupied. I’ve got to choose a recipe for the Bake-Off and perfect it, and I only have a week to do so.”
“Whatever you make will be terrific, won’t it, Mr. E?”
“Just like those cupcakes you made this morning,” he agreed.
“But there’s something else on your mind,” Pixie said, her gaze intensifying.
“You’re right,” Tricia admitted. “Vera Olson’s death hasn’t been far from my thoughts since the moment Joyce Widman and I found her.”
“You poor little thing,” Pixie sympathized. “You’re much braver than I am when it comes to dealing with . . .” She let the sentence hang. Had she meant to say stiffs? Dead bodies? Corpses? The unalive?
Tricia shuddered and was determined to steer the conversation in another direction. “I’m expecting a call from Elizabeth Blake, who I met at lunch today with Grace. She’s going to try to get me in to see the rooms the Bake-Off will take place in.”
“Oh?” Mr. Everett asked.
Tricia nodded. “Angelica and me.”
“Won’t that give you an edge the other competitors won’t have?” Pixie asked.
“I don’t see how. We all still have to pull our recipes together, bake our entries, and decorate them in ninety minutes. Knowing what the room looks like can’t really change that. I just want to see it. To get a feel for it.”
The phone rang. All three of their heads turned in the direction of the vintage black rotary phone that sat on the glass display case that doubled as a cash desk. Tricia jumped to her feet. “I’ll get it.” She hurried across the room and picked up the heavy receiver. “Haven’t Got a Clue. This is Tricia.”
“Tricia? It’s Elizabeth Blake.”
“Thank you for getting back to me so soon.”
“I’ve spoken to Principal Randall and she’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Is the timing all right for you?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
“It was my pleasure. And I wish you well in the competition. I’m sorry I won’t get a chance to taste your entry.”
“Thank you.”
“Until we meet again . . .”
“Good-bye.”
Tricia replaced the receiver, a smile tugging at her lips. And yet when she turned to face her employees, neither of them looked very happy. Their expressions were of . . . disappointment?
Inspecting the home ec rooms would not give her an unfair advantage. What she hoped it would do was inspire her to pursue victory.
No. Tricia would not have an advantage except to see her workspace, which probably wasn’t nearly as nice or as large as her own kitchen on the floor above. She expected the workspace to be dated and cramped, but perhaps charming in its own way. Still, that wasn’t going to give her an edge when it came to the judges’ rulings. To win, her cupcake would have to not only taste wonderful but be beautiful as well.
To win, she needed to practice, practice, practice, until she was sure her entry would be the very best she could make. And she only had a week to ensure it.
* * *
* * *
Tricia spent the first part of the afternoon sitting at her kitchen island, surrounded by cookbooks filled with decadent recipes, and then in front of her laptop watching yet more YouTube videos in an effort to teach herself the basics of cake decoration. Sadly, her efforts had not been encouraging. She had the tools, but she didn’t have the ability to use them. She had an awful lot to learn if she was going to present the Bake-Off judges with the most beautiful cupcake they’d ever seen.
It was just after six when, once again, Tricia locked and left her store. She let herself into the Cookery, then headed up the stairs to Angelica’s apartment above. Sarge started barking hysterically, and once inside, she tossed him a couple of dog biscuits to shut him up.
“I’ve asked you not to give him more than one treat,” Angelica admonished her for at least the hundredth time.
“I know, but he enjoys them. And how can I resist that hopeful little face?”
Angelica was not convinced.
“Are we sitting out on the balcony again tonight?” Tricia asked. “It’s not too hot.”
“I hadn’t planned on it, but it was pleasant out there last night, wasn’t it?”
“I feel like I’ve been cooped up all day and need as much fresh air as I can get—although I do have a bit of a surprise for you.”
“A good one or a bad one?” Angelica asked suspiciously.
“Good.”
“Oh, then why don’t you take this plate of deviled eggs out and I’ll bring the pitcher and glasses.”
Deviled eggs meant leftovers from Booked for Lunch, but Tricia didn’t mind. Tommy was an excellent short-order cook, although sometimes Angelica would help out in the kitchen if he allowed it and she was in the mood, but with getting the day spa ready to open, she doubted her sister had the time that week. Tricia grabbed the plate and a few paper napkins.
A light breeze blew through the alley as Tricia settled on the comfortably padded chair and Angelica once again took the chaise. She poured the drinks and handed a glass to Tricia. They raised their glasses in salute and took their first sips.
“So what’s the big surprise?” Angelica asked.
“As I mentioned in my text, I had lunch with Grace.”
“How is she?”
“Just fine. What made it interesting is she introduced me to a woman named Elizabeth Blake, who not only served on the Stoneham School Board but did so with Vera Olson.”
“This sounds interesting. Go on.”
“She didn’t really say much about Vera, except to confirm what I already knew, but she was very helpful in another respect.”
“Stop dragging it out and get to the point,” Angelica urged.
“Guess where we’re going tomorrow morning at nine o’clock?”
“You didn’t!”
Tricia grinned. “I did.”
“You little minx.”
“We’re scheduled for a personal tour of Stoneham High School’s home ec rooms.”
Angelica positively giggled in delight. “Who’s going to give it? The woman you met at lunch?”
Tricia shook her head. “The school’s principal. A Mrs. Randall. I hope this isn’t going to interfere with whatever you need to do at the spa.”
“I’ve got a manager now, remember? He’s already got the keys; he can meet with the computer guy to set up the point-of-sale software and the router. It’s the same setup I have at the Cookery, so there won’t be a learning curve for me. I can take the whole morning off if I like.”
Tricia certainly had nothing to do back at her store and wished she felt so carefree about it.
“What do you think the rooms will look like?” Angelica asked.
“I want to be surprised, so I’m not going to think about it until tomorrow.”
“You Scarlett O’Hara, you.”
“What happened with you and your new manager, Randy? Do you like him?”
“He’s such a card. We laughed all day. I met his husband, Dave. He seems like a sweetheart, too. He took us to lunch. Well, took us is a misnomer. We had a hot dog and Coke from the Eat Lunch food truck in the park—just like a picnic. What did you have for lunch?”
“A chef’s salad.”
“Boring! Have another deviled egg.”
Tricia did—or at least she was about to when her ringtone sounded. She retrieved her phone from her pocket and looked at the caller ID. “Oh, dear. It’s Joyce.”
“I’ll bet to see if I’ve spoken to Grant on her behalf.”
Beethoven’s “Pastoral” continued to play.
“You ought to change that ringtone,” Angelica advised. “You’ve had it since day one.”
“Yes, and when I hear it I know it’s my phone and not fifty other people’s phones.”
The music stopped and Tricia set the phone on the glass-topped table between them.
“I take it you’re not going to return her call.”
“I’m going to pretend I missed it.”
“For how long?”
“Forever?”
“I don’t think she’s going to let you.”
“She probably left a message. I’ll text her later.”
“Do you think she’s going to become a problem?”
Tricia shrugged. “Maybe. Although if I had a possible murder charge hanging over me, I’d be worried, too.”
“Then maybe you ought to have a little more compassion for the poor woman.”
“Do you think I should talk to Grant on her behalf? And tell him what? ‘Joyce is my good buddy. I don’t really know her all that well, but I’m sure she didn’t kill her next-door neighbor’? I can’t say that because I don’t know it.”
“Did she seem terribly shocked at finding Vera?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then that’s the least you could tell Grant.”
“I suppose.” Tricia picked up her egg half and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m rather surprised he hasn’t called me in for yet another mini interrogation.”
“They took your report right at the scene, didn’t they? Perhaps he thought that was good enough.”
Tricia thought about her conversation with Marshall two evenings before and the things they’d discussed. Things she hadn’t mentioned to Grant or Angelica. Then she wondered why she hadn’t heard from Marshall. He was probably busy. He was still new to accommodating the tourist trade and forging his connections with Milford Travel. As she considered that fact, she realized that now that she had a full-time manager, she could do some traveling herself. Perhaps go to other cities, attend auctions for rare vintage mysteries. The possibilities intrigued her.
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