“What a hair-raising ride over here,” Angelica said, taking off her hat, coat, and scarf and hanging them up by the door. “My meeting let out early because of the weather, but it took me over an hour to drive here.”
Tricia looked out the window; still no measurable snow in the village. “It must have been a localized storm,” she said, hoping Stoneham would be spared an accumulation.
Angelica sat down on the upholstered love seat and patted the cushion for Tricia to join her. “Now, what’s this surprise you’ve cooked up?”
“It’s not a happy one, I’m afraid.” She withdrew her phone and pulled up the little photo she’d taken of the listening device, tapping it to make it fill the screen. She handed the device to Angelica.
“What on earth is that?”
“The Whisper Ear thirty-two hundred.”
“And that is?”
“A bug.”
Angelica scrutinized the photo, frowning. “It hasn’t got legs.”
“It’s a listening device,” Tricia clarified. “I found it last night under the washstand I just bought.”
Angelica’s frown deepened. “You’re kidding.”
Tricia shook her head.
“Who’d want to listen to you?” She seemed to realize her mistake and rephrased the question. “I mean, why would someone want to listen to you?”
“I have a few ideas, and that’s why I wanted to speak to you about it in private. Although I did a search this morning, I’m not so sure my store, or yours for that matter, isn’t also being bugged.”
“Do you think Booked for Lunch is vulnerable, too?”
“It’s not a secret that you and I eat there almost every day at closing. And we usually sit at the same table in the back, too.”
Angelica nodded, looking uneasy. “I never thought I’d have to worry about that kind of thing.”
“Me, neither. And let’s not forget, you’re being blackmailed, and I’ve got two contentious opponents in the Chamber race.”
Angelica blanched. “How did you ever find the bug?”
Tricia explained about Miss Marple’s naughty behavior.
“You owe your cat a dozen bags of snacks. Who’s on the top of your suspect list?”
“Russ, of course. Then again, he’s so cheap, I wonder if he would cough up a couple hundred bucks to pay for such a device—at least without Nikki knowing it.”
Angelica shook her head. “He might consider it a business deduction.”
Tricia hadn’t thought of that. “Of course, Chauncey and I aren’t exactly pals, either. He’d love to defeat me and take your place as head of the Chamber, so I wouldn’t put it past him, either.”
“And now you’ve got me wanting to check out my own home and businesses.”
“It’s the prudent thing to do.”
A knock sounded, and a waiter with a white shirt, black tie, and black slacks entered with a tray. He set cocktail napkins on the coffee table and settled their glasses on top. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“I wish I could say no, but I have other things to do this afternoon,” Angelica lamented.
“Me, too,” Tricia agreed.
“I’ll have the quiche of the day,” Angelica said.
“Make that two.”
“Very good. I’ll be back soon with your lunches.”
They watched him go, and when the door closed behind him, Angelica picked up her glass and spoke once more. “Are you going to Chief Baker with this?”
Tricia shrugged. “I know I should. But part of me wants to turn the tables on whoever has violated my home.”
“You mean by planting some false information and seeing who spills the beans?”
Tricia nodded. She, too, picked up her glass and took a sip. Damn fine. “I ran an errand to Nashua this morning and bought a couple of jammers. If you don’t want to be overheard, all you have to do is turn it on.” She reached for her purse beside the love seat and brought out one of the devices, handing it to Angelica. “I’ll show you how it works.”
Once Angelica understood how to use the device, she picked up her glass again. “You don’t suspect Pixie—and certainly not Mr. Everett—do you?”
“Of course not. I trust them both implicitly.”
“And I trust my employees, too,” Angelica agreed. “Everyone I work with is exemplary.”
Tricia nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about lapses Antonio or I might have made that might have given a clue about our relationship to someone within the Nigela Ricita umbrella of companies. We’re very discreet.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I wonder if I should have Antonio check his office for bugs, but then how would I explain the situation?”
“You could tell him the truth.”
She shook her head. “That’s not an option.” Angelica looked thoughtful. “It occurs to me that while we’ve taken safety measures here at the inn, my company isn’t centralized. We have no one person dedicated to taking care of all our security needs. It’s something I never gave a thought to—until now.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Chief Baker about all this?”
Angelica shook her head.
“He could set up a sting.”
“No.”
“How about if I went to him to set up a sting? Maybe we’d end up killing two birds with one stone.”
Angelica studied her glass, took a sip, and looked thoughtful. “I guess I would be okay with that. But you wouldn’t emphasize my difficulties, right?”
“No.” This was one promise Tricia felt she could keep. “Not until you say so.”
Angelica nodded. “This could be dangerous for you.”
“I have every confidence in the Stoneham Police Department.”
Now if she just believed it.
TWENTY-TWO
The sisters agreed to have dinner at Angelica’s that evening, but not before Tricia did a sweep of the place for yet another bug.
Before she left the inn, Tricia stayed behind in the Brookview’s private dining room and called the Stoneham Police Department. As usual, Baker’s receptionist gave her a hard time about speaking with the village’s top cop, but Tricia stressed that it was a matter of great importance, and Polly reluctantly transferred the call.
“Hello, Tricia,” Baker said wearily. “There’s nothing new on Ted Harper’s murder case.”
“That’s not why I’m calling. Do you have time to see me this afternoon—in fact, right away?”
“What for?”
“My home is being bugged, and I know that’s illegal.”
“It certainly is,” Baker said, sounding a lot more interested than he had just seconds before.
“Then you’ll see me?”
“Come right over to my office.”
“I’m not sure I want to be seen walking into the police station. Someone could be watching my every move. If we want to catch this guy, we need to be discreet.”
“That sounds reasonable. But start from the beginning so I know where we stand.”
Now that she’d already told her story once, the second telling went much faster and smoother, and she felt confident she’d made the right decision in talking to him.
“Can we run a sting?”
“I need to give this some thought. And I want to see this bugging device for myself.”
“Of course. But it’ll look suspicious if you just show up at my store unannounced.”
“Well, I certainly have no social reason to be there these days.”
“You could say you want to talk to me about Ted’s poisoning. You don’t have to actually say anything you haven’t already told me.”
“If we’re being listened to, I’d say even less.”
“Good idea.”
“Is there any other reason, besides running for the Chamber presidency, why someone would want to bug you?”
“No.” That was the truth. She would not say another word about Angelica’s difficulties.
“Okay.
Why don’t I show up half an hour from now?”
“Good. It’ll give me a chance to get back to the store and play it cool.”
“Where are you now?”
“The Brookview. Angelica and I had lunch here.”
It wasn’t at all suspicious, and Baker didn’t inquire about the change of location from their usual midday meal haunt.
“All right. I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Baker said, and hung up.
Tricia stuffed her cell phone back in her purse, donned her cloak, hat, and scarf, and left the room to pay the bill at the inn’s front reception desk.
The snowflakes had finally made it to Stoneham, and a light coating covered the streets. Tricia made it back to Haven’t Got a Clue with nearly twenty minutes to spare. It bode well that a couple of customers browsed the bookshelves as Mr. Everett dusted the baseboard, and Pixie flitted around the store, straightening books on the shelves, tidying the cash desk, and organizing the magazines on the coffee table. The atmosphere was electric with the anticipation of a sale, giving Tricia an excuse for appearing just a little bit jittery.
Baker arrived right on time, looked around the shop, and then called out, “Tricia, have you got a minute to speak to me?”
“Chief Baker, good to see you. Of course.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Getting better all the time.”
“That’s good. Is there any chance we can speak in private?” he asked.
“Sure. Right this way.” And Tricia led him through the store to the back and up the stairs to her loft apartment, while Mr. Everett joined Pixie to help with the impending sale. Miss Marple tagged along, probably hoping to squeeze in an extra kitty snack.
Tricia unlocked the door to her apartment, and Baker and the cat followed her through. Tricia pointed to the washstand and mouthed, It’s under there.
Baker nodded, but didn’t move.
“So, what did you have to tell me, Grant?”
“Just that Ted Harper’s death was ruled accidental.” It hadn’t been; at least not yet. “They buried him last week.”
Which Tricia already knew. “It’s so sad.”
Baker slipped out of his shoes and crept slowly across the new floor. Tricia was glad the refinished floorboards no longer squeaked.
“Will I ever get my serving dishes the lab team took last Friday night?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll make sure of it.” Baker got down on his knees, withdrew a pen-sized LED flashlight, and shone it under the table. He stared at the listening device, and Tricia figured she ought to say something to avert suspicion.
“It was dark the night of the party. You didn’t get a chance to see my new balcony.”
Baker got up and walked across the living room again. “I don’t suppose you had an opportunity to use it before it got cold out.”
“No. Would you like to see it?”
“Sure.”
Tricia grabbed the cashmere throw from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, then unlocked the sliding glass doors that led to her tiny patio, which was really only big enough to hold two people, her small gas grill, a couple of chairs, and a bistro table.
“Nice,” Baker said, as she closed the door behind them.
“Well, what do you think?”
“You’ve got a bug all right.”
“What do we do about it?”
“I’m going to have to think about this for a day or so. Do you feel comfortable about leaving it there for a few days?”
Tricia nodded. “At least I know how it got there. If someone had breached my security alarm and gotten inside my apartment—I’d be a lot more nervous. And I’ve got the jammer, in case I need to talk and not be heard. But the election is on Wednesday. That doesn’t give us a lot of time to figure this out.”
“Even if you lost, someone may want to keep listening—just to be a voyeur.”
“At least it’s in my living room and not my bedroom.”
“Oh? Were you planning on entertaining up there?” Barker asked, with just a hint of judgment in his voice.
“No, not that it’s any of your business.”
“How did your date with Marshall Cambridge go yesterday?”
“My, word certainly gets around,” Tricia said sourly.
“He doesn’t seem like your type,” Baker muttered.
“And what is my type?”
“Not him.”
“Because he sells pornography?”
“For one.”
“And for another?”
“He’s got an arrest record.”
Tricia’s eyes widened, and for a moment she just stood there, the snow gently settling on the throw and catching in her hair. “How—how do you know?”
“I do my due diligence whenever we get new people in the village.”
“Isn’t that a little like Big Brother watching?”
Baker shrugged. “Just part of my job.”
Had he looked up Marshall’s record before or after he’d learned of Tricia’s lunch date with the man? Why did Baker continue to hold a grudge? He’d moved on—he’d been dating someone for months. Why did he always throw verbal zingers her way when it came to her love life—or lack thereof?
“Are you going to tell me what he was arrested for?”
Baker shook his head. That had to mean it was a minor offense. Surely if Marshall had been a killer or otherwise violent, Baker would have felt compelled to warn her. Now he was just being petty.
She decided not to press the issue.
“It’s going to seem suspicious to my listener if we stay out here much longer,” she said, and reached for the door handle, pulling it open. Baker followed her back inside, and she locked the sliding glass door. Miss Marple was nowhere in sight, and Tricia figured she must have wandered up to the bedroom—or found a comfy place to settle by the nearest heat vent.
“I need to get back to the station,” Baker said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Tricia said, but took a moment to toss the throw back on the couch once again.
Baker preceded her down the stairs, and Tricia locked her apartment once more. It wasn’t something she usually did during the day, but since finding the bug, she felt just a little nervous about leaving her home vulnerable.
The shop was once again devoid of customers, and Pixie and Mr. Everett had gone back to reading.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Baker said, and headed out the door.
“Thanks. And bye,” Tricia called as the door banged shut behind him.
Pixie looked up from her paperback. “What was that all about?”
Tricia shrugged. “Nothing much. He told me about Ted Harper being buried.”
“And that’s a secret?”
Again Tricia shrugged.
Pixie closed her book. “I’ve been thinking what else we could do to make sure you get elected as Chamber president on Wednesday.”
“What have you come up with?”
“Well, there’s the sympathy angle.”
“Sympathy?” Tricia asked.
Pixie lifted her right arm.
“No!” Tricia said emphatically.
Pixie frowned. “We could make a slideshow video and send it to all the Chamber members by e-mail.”
“What would it say?”
Pixie shrugged. “Basically repeat your platform, but add pretty pictures and catchy music.”
“How could we find someone to make such a thing on such short notice?”
“You’re lookin’ at her.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure, there’s lots of software on the computer—it costs a bit by subscription, but if we only bought a month, it wouldn’t even cost a C note.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I know a few websites where we can get royalty-free pictures and put the whole thing together. They even have cool music. And you know what, as long as we have the service for a month—we could make a few more videos for the store’s website. You know, pushing w
hat we sell, and especially for the holidays.”
“You’ve got me intrigued.”
Pixie grinned, and her gold canine tooth flashed.
“When could you do it?” Tricia asked.
“How about now? If you’ll authorize the charge on your credit card, I could have something ready before the end of the workday.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“Where did you learn about all this?”
“From talking to Mindy Weaver from Milford Travel at the Chamber meeting last Wednesday. She’s made a couple for the agency, and they look pretty good for an amateur. And if I do say so myself, I think I’m a little bit more creative than her—I’ve learned a lot about graphics from doing scrapbooks.”
“I didn’t know you were into that.”
“Oh, sure. You should see the one I made for my bridal shower.”
“Oh, I wish you’d shown it to me before this.” Especially since Tricia had paid for the shower and hadn’t been able to attend most of it.
“I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
“So would I,” Mr. Everett said.
Pixie’s smile could’ve melted a glacier.
TWENTY-THREE
Pixie retreated to the main computer in the basement and commenced working on the video, using free photos from the Internet and those Tricia had stored in a folder on her desktop from shots taken during author events at Haven’t Got a Clue. There was even one from the grand opening of the Antiques Emporium that showed her and Toni Bennett cutting a big wide ribbon with an oversized pair of gold scissors. Russ had taken a similar photo for the Stoneham Weekly News that was even better, but Tricia didn’t want to get into a copyright issue with him, and the grab shot one of Toni’s vendors had taken with Tricia’s phone would work just fine.
Pixie clicked the produce button and they had what could very well be the video’s final cut. They decided to sleep on it and in the morning determine if any changes were necessary, but Tricia uploaded it on an unlinked page on the store’s website so that she could show it to Angelica later.
The phone rang, and Pixie answered it. “Haven’t Got a Clue—we’re about to close, but how may I help you?” She listened. “Oh, sure. She’s right here.”
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