Poisoned Pages

by Lorna Barrett

  Marshall nodded. “Seems to me she’s been doing a pretty good job. What’s your experience?”

  “I volunteered for the Chamber for about six months while my store was in limbo after the fire. I handled just about all the jobs, and boy can I carry those big gold scissors when it comes time to do a ribbon cutting.”

  “Sarcasm, Tricia?”

  “You’re not going to vote for me anyway. I wasted my time by coming here.” She pivoted to leave.

  “Wait,” Marshall called.

  Tricia turned.

  Marshall pursed his lips. “I’m … I apologize. It was sleazy of me to call you the Village Jinx. It’s gotta hurt.”

  That it did, although most people called her that behind her back. Marshall was one of the few who actually said it to her face.

  “Thank you,” Tricia said grudgingly.

  “For what it’s worth, if you’re half as good as your sister, you’d be an asset to the Chamber. I’ve belonged to a few in my time, and the leadership at the Stoneham branch has been exemplary. Things actually get done in this village, and that’s good for my business.”

  “Thank you. I’ll pass along your kind words to my sister.”

  She turned once again to leave, but Marshall’s voice stopped her a second time.

  “Were you friends with Ted Harper?”

  Tricia whirled. “No. I only met him an hour or so before he … before he died. Did you know him?”

  “I probably shouldn’t admit it, but he was a good customer of mine.”

  Tricia cringed. Poor Frannie. Dating a guy who was into porn.

  “Don’t look like that. I sell more than just girlie magazines, you know. Like me, Ted loved to read true crime.”

  Tricia had forgotten that in addition to selling smut, Marshall did have an extensive section dedicated to that subject. “Is there a lot of call for it?”

  “I have a few regulars. They like the vintage stuff I stock. It’s cheaper to buy the new magazines by subscription.”

  Was it worth pumping him for information on the dead man?

  Why not?

  “How well did you know Ted?”

  “Enough that he told me a little about his life. Like he had a new lady friend and was about to get lucky.”

  Did the man always have to be so vulgar?

  He must have noticed her unhappy expression, for he apologized again. Then he really surprised her. “Do you ever take a day off? Maybe we could have coffee together sometime.”

  “Why on earth would you want to have coffee with me?”

  “Because you’re pretty. Because you’re smart. And you sure as hell don’t seem to take crap from anybody.”

  Tricia thought about his offer. She didn’t really like the man, but was she judging him on what he sold or on his rather abrasive personality?

  “I don’t take days off.”

  “All work and no play makes Tricia a dull girl.”

  “I’m a woman, not a girl.”

  He sized her up and smiled—not a leer. “You sure don’t have to tell me that.”

  Tricia thought it over. If she did become Chamber president, like her sister, she would probably have to have many impromptu conversations with members and potential members—whether she liked them or not. Maybe she should start practicing now.

  “Well, I do have two employees, so I can usually get away for short periods of time now and again.”

  “Great. I don’t open on Sundays. How about then? Say, one o’clock at the Coffee Bean?”

  Tricia loved their coffee, and the ambiance was perfect for everything else they sold, but with customers coming and going, it was not conducive to private conversations. “How about the Bookshelf Diner?”

  “That would’ve been my next choice.”

  Tricia shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Don’t sound so thrilled. I wouldn’t want you to have a stroke or something,” he said, but there was amusement in his tone.

  “All right. I’ll see you there on Sunday at one.”

  “Great. Until then.” He held out a hand, indicating the exit. Was she being dismissed?

  Tricia turned and left the shop, the annoying buzzer sounding as she passed through the door.

  Had she just made a very big mistake?

  THIRTEEN

  Angelica paused in the act of pouring the first martini into a chilled glass, looking horrified. “You made a date with whom?”

  Tricia felt weary after her day of announcing her candidacy, then making personal visits and phone calls to Chamber members. She’d practically been salivating in anticipation of cocktail hour. “Marshall Cambridge, and it’s not a date, it’s coffee.”

  “Coffee can be a date,” Angelica insisted. “I just don’t understand what on earth you could possibly see in that smarmy little man.” She handed Tricia the glass and poured another from the pitcher.

  Tricia sighed. “You have coffee and meetings with people you’re not especially fond of all the time.”

  “That’s business.”

  “Well, this meeting sure isn’t going to be for pleasure. He called me the Village Jinx—right to my face.”

  “And you still agreed to go out with him?”

  “I’m not going out with him. And if it will make you feel better, I’ll pay for my own coffee.”

  “You don’t have to get crazy,” Angelica declared, and took her first sip of gin and vermouth. “I’m just very surprised.”

  “No more surprised than me. He said I was pretty—and smart—probably to soften me up.”

  “Well, at least he noticed you’ve got a brain. I wouldn’t have given him that much credit.”

  Tricia shrugged and took a hearty gulp of her martini. After the day she’d had, she deserved it.

  “There must have been another reason why you said yes.”

  “Maybe it was because he told me a little about Ted Harper. He might even know more.”

  “What could he possibly know about poor dead Ted?”

  “That he was a lover of true crime. Apparently he bought a lot of it from Marshall.”

  “Much too gory for my taste,” Angelica remarked.

  “Mine, too.”

  “So you intend to pump him for more information?”

  “Not really. As Grant suggested, someone was probably trying to make trouble for me, not targeting Ted.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “And you’re going to the Bookshelf Diner? Why aren’t you coming to Booked for Lunch?”

  “So you and Molly can hang on our every word? Forget that. I figured we’d have a little more anonymity at the diner. Besides, I haven’t been there in ages.”

  “You might be going there more often once the Chamber’s contract with the Brookview ends.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Not necessarily. But you’ll be negotiating with the catering manager, not me.”

  “And you wouldn’t put in a good word?”

  “An awful lot of Chamber members seemed perfectly happy to change venues. I may just let them do it.”

  “Out of spite?” Tricia asked.

  “Out of economic necessity.” Angelica took another sip of her drink, and then turned to poke around in her cupboard. “I got some jam samples from a possible new distributor. Want to try them on crackers?”

  “Why not? What are the flavors?”

  “Sweet—like peach and apricot—and laced with jalapeños.”

  “I once had red pepper jelly. Something like that?”

  “Exactly.” Angelica dumped out the rest of the crackers from the sleeve she’d opened the night before, and then scrounged a couple of spreaders. Tricia opened the jar of peach jalapeño jam and spread a thin layer on one of the crackers, then sampled it. “Oh, my, that’s good.”

  Angelica slathered a thicker layer on her cracker and practically devoured it. “Oh, that one’s a keeper.” They sampled the other jar of jelly, and Angelica decided she’d stock b
oth in the Cookery.

  “So who’s this new distributor?” Tricia asked.

  “Someone in Milford, actually. She used to make tiny batches for her family, but was encouraged to start making it commercially. She now makes it in a licensed kitchen, and voilà!”

  “How did you hear about her?”

  “She dropped the jars off at the store. I really would like to encourage more entrepreneurs. You should, too, when you become Chamber president.”

  “As a matter of fact, Toni mentioned that Stoneham needs a candy shop. She said tourists love fudge.”

  “You could look into it for the village. I mean, all you have to do is make a few calls. It would show the members you’re interested in keeping the Chamber strong.”

  “I could,” Tricia said rather half-heartedly. “And speaking of entrepreneurs, how long has Frannie been in the furniture business?”

  “What?” Obviously Angelica knew nothing of her employee’s new business venture.

  “She has a booth at the Antiques Emporium. I bought one of her pieces this afternoon. A charming English washstand. It’s going to go perfectly in my living room.”

  “When does she have time to run a business? She works for me six days a week.”

  “She told Toni she needs the money to retire to Hawaii.”

  “Well, I knew that. But she hasn’t talked about it so much lately.” Angelica scowled. “Do you think she deserves a raise?”

  “That’s up to you. I know what you pay her, and it’s more than fair.”

  “I do have June working on Sundays, but Frannie insisted she wanted to work on Saturdays—probably for the extra money.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If Frannie had a complaint, I’m sure she’d voice it. She’s never been shy about that sort of thing in the past.”

  Angelica sighed. “I guess you’re right. When do I get to see this washstand?”

  “Rats. I should have taken a picture of it. It’ll be delivered on Friday afternoon.”

  “Then I guess I’ll plan on having dinner with you on Friday night.”

  “Can do. If I let Pixie close the shop, I can make something a little more elaborate than grilled cheese sandwiches and canned tomato soup.”

  “Yes. She should get used to doing that, since you’ll be busy with Chamber business on a regular basis come January.”

  “If I win.”

  “I’m pretty confident.”

  Pretty? Before the meeting that day, she’d been absolutely sure.

  Tricia spread a thin layer of jelly on another cracker and wondered if once she went home for the evening, she should start researching the candy business.

  *

  • • •

  Tricia entered Haven’t Got a Clue the next morning with a sheaf of papers filled with raw data on the profitability of candy making. She still had more research to do that day—especially finding potential vendors—and wondered how she should present it to the Chamber members if she went through with the plan. Probably after the election was over. That way they would be able to see that she truly did have the village’s—and the Chamber’s—best interests at heart, and it wouldn’t look like a grandstand play.

  And if she didn’t win?

  She didn’t want to think about it.

  Pixie arrived ten minutes early with a smile on her face and singing “With a Song in My Heart” off-key. She’d never win a karaoke contest.

  “Mailman’s on his way,” Pixie said as she shrugged out of the sleeves of her faux fur coat. “He was at the Patisserie when I passed. Looked like he was buying one of those giant sugar cookies with the colored jimmies. Made me want to stop and get something, but I decided I didn’t need to pack on any more pounds, what with the holidays coming up and everything. I’ll get the coffee going,” she said, and snagged the pot on her way to hang up her coat.

  “Good morning to you, too!” Tricia called cheerfully.

  A minute later, Pixie stood in front of the beverage center, tipping coffee into the grounds basket.

  “Do you think Stoneham needs a candy store?” Tricia asked.

  “Candy? I’m trying not to think about cookies, and you bring up candy?”

  “For the tourists.”

  “Tourists do like fudge—and saltwater taffy, but I think that goes over better at seaside towns.” She hit the on switch, and the machine started to gurgle.

  “I was talking to Toni Bennett yesterday, and she suggested the next Chamber president should recruit a candy shop,” Tricia said.

  “I’ll bet Mr. E would be their best customer. He’d probably buy Grace a couple-pound box or two every week. He’s such a sweetheart—and he has a sweet tooth, but not like mine.” Pixie grinned broadly, showing off her gold canine.

  Tricia couldn’t help herself and laughed.

  Just then, the shop door opened, the bell rang, and the mailman entered. “Mail call!”

  “Hi, Randy. I hope you brought more than bills,” Pixie said.

  “Don’t kill the messenger,” he said, and handed her the small stack of envelopes.

  The two of them said the same thing just about every day—and every day it made Tricia cringe. She was sure they never considered it a veiled reference to her being known as the Village Jinx.

  “See you tomorrow,” he called, and headed out the door.

  Pixie brought out the sugar, nondairy creamer, napkins, and paper cups for the customers, and their own china mugs, setting them on the counter. “So you’re going to find us a candy store?”

  “I was thinking about it. And by the way, did you know Frannie Armstrong had a booth over at the Antiques Emporium?”

  “Oh, sure. We talked about it for a long time last summer back at the Wine and Jazz Festival. She asked me if I’d look for small pieces of crappy furniture when I go on my tag sale runs. We even went out together a few times to look. So she’s finally got enough stock to get going, huh?”

  “Apparently. I bought a piece yesterday. It’ll be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oooh, can’t wait to see it.”

  “What do you suppose made her choose furniture?”

  Pixie shrugged. “I guess her mom and dad did it for a hobby, and that’s where she learned the ropes. When I first got out of stir, I thought about working for a tailor, but they pay ditz, so I was glad I learned other, more lucrative skills.”

  “You’ve certainly been an asset to me.”

  “Aw, thanks, Tricia.” She poured coffee for the two of them. “So, where are you and Ginny going for lunch today?”

  “Oh, dear. I forgot it was Thursday. We’ll probably just go to Booked for Lunch.”

  “Ha-ha! You don’t have to pay when you go there.”

  “I usually do when Ginny’s my guest.” Tricia didn’t want to sound like a freeloader, so maybe they should patronize the Bookshelf Diner. But Booked for Lunch was so convenient—just doors away from where both women worked.

  The shop door opened once again, and Mr. Everett entered.

  “Good morning,” both Tricia and Pixie called. Mr. Everett offered a wan smile.

  “I’ll hang up my coat and be with you in a few moments.”

  They watched him trudge to the back of the shop.

  “No spring in his step today. I wonder what’s wrong,” Pixie said.

  “I’m sure we’ll find out.”

  Mr. Everett returned to the front of the shop, looking hangdog.

  “Is everything okay?” Tricia asked.

  Mr. Everett shrugged. “Charlie didn’t seem to want to eat this morning.”

  “Sometimes Miss Marple gets that way, too. She used to love canned tuna, and now she often turns up her nose at it.”

  “I hope you’re right, Ms. Miles.”

  “How about a nice cup of coffee?” Pixie offered. “The world seems better when you’ve had a fresh cup of joe.”

  Mr. Everett’s smile was tentative. “Thank you, Pixie. I’d like that.”

  Once Pixie had poured a
nother cup, the three of them took their coffee and retired to the reader’s nook. As though sensing the old man needed comforting, Miss Marple joined them and settled on Mr. Everett’s lap.

  “Now, what seems to be the trouble with Charlie?” Tricia asked.

  Mr. Everett shook his head, absently petting the store’s mascot. “He’s drinking a lot of water, but he played with Grace for a bit this morning, batting at the feather wand. Perhaps I’m just overly worried about him because of his age.”

  “I expect that’s it,” Tricia said, not quite sure she believed it.

  “He is a wonderful boy, and he seems to have settled right in. I can’t believe we waited so long to have a pet.”

  “I’m glad he’s bringing you so much pleasure.” Now to hope he wouldn’t bring the old man unwanted pain.

  *

  • • •

  Pixie and Mr. Everett took their lunch break early, which allowed Tricia to meet with Ginny at Booked for Lunch at just after one. Ginny was usually late, but seldom took more than half an hour for her noon meal, so Tricia knew she’d be back to her store in good time.

  “Hi,” Ginny called, sounding cheerful. She whipped off her little white beret and shrugged out of her scarf and jacket, tossing them on the bench seat before sitting down across from Tricia. “Boy, it got cold fast this year. And where did the time go? Next thing you know, we’ll be toasting with champagne and singing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”

  “We’ll be so busy at the shop—at least on weekends—that the rest of the year will just whiz by.”

  “Yeah, and you’ll be twice as busy come January when you take over as Chamber president.”

  “If I win,” Tricia said demurely.

  “You’re a shoo-in,” Ginny said, and picked up the menu, not that either of them needed it. They usually ordered the same couple of items. “Everybody I’ve talked to is voting for you. And thanks for the chocolate in the swag bags. I was selfish and didn’t share one piece of it.”

  “You weren’t at the meeting. How did you get one?”

  “That doll Pixie gave Antonio two and asked him to bring one to me. You know, we really need a candy store in Stoneham.”

  “That’s what Toni Bennett over at the Antiques Emporium said.”

  “Too bad one couldn’t open before Christmas. When in doubt, a box of chocolates will always be a welcome gift—at least to me!”