Bookmarked For Death (Berkley Prime Crime Mysteries)

by Lorna Barrett

  "I do," Tricia said, and nodded.

  "Then, yeah, I'll help you. I'll do anything to put that bitch behind bars."

  t w e n t y - t h r e e

  Angelica was already ensconced in Tricia's loft apartment by the time she and Russ returned to Stoneham. They knew this even before they opened the door because the heavenly aroma of something delicious met them on the stairs.

  Miss Marple greeted Tricia at the door, looked up at Russ, and turned away in disgust. Luckily, he was used to her reaction and took no offense.

  "Finally!" Angelica called from her position at the stove. Decked out in peach sweats and fluffy pink slippers, there was no doubt she felt totally at home in Tricia's digs. "How was Kimberly?"

  "Awful. I mean, she'll recover, but I hope she's got good insurance. She'll be seeing a lot of her dentist in the next few months. You should've seen Russ with her. Her mouth smelled awful, but he spoon-fed her warm cola."

  "Ewww. She's a stranger. How could you do that?" Angelica asked.

  Russ shrugged. "I used to help my mom by feeding my grandmother after she had a stroke. It never bothered me."

  "You're a very nice man," Angelica said, and pointedly stared at Tricia, mentally transmitting the words Who you don't appreciate enough.

  Maybe she was right.

  "Ange, you didn't have to cook for us," Tricia said. "We were going to call for a pizza."

  "You two live on pizza. You need real food."

  "I agree," Russ said. "What smells so great?"

  "Chicken cordon bleu."

  "Homemade?" he asked hopefully.

  "Sort of not. But this shortcut version is really tasty. Now that you're here, I can pop them back in the oven," she said, and removed a plate from the fridge, transferring the contents to a baking sheet and into the oven.

  "What are we having with it?" he asked.

  "Caramelized carrots and stuffed baked potatoes. Is that okay?"

  Russ nodded. "I'll say."

  "I appreciate the effort, but aren't you tired after working alone all day?" Tricia said, already feeling guilty.

  "I wasn't alone," Angelica said, and stirred the carrots on the stove. "At least not the whole day. You want a beer or something, Russ?"

  "You bet," he said.

  Angelica turned toward the fridge.

  "You've hired someone?" Tricia took off her coat and handed it to Russ, who hung it, plus his own, on the oak hat tree in the corner.

  Angelica handed Russ his beer and a pilsner glass from the cupboard. "I contacted another employment agency. They sent over a woman who'd never worked retail a day in her life," she said, and turned up the heat under the carrots.

  "And she's already quit?"

  "No, but I wouldn't be surprised if I have to call them to

  send me someone else before the end of the week. I just can't get competent help."

  Tricia ground her teeth together to keep from speaking.

  "Then again, I wonder if there's any way I could wrestle Frannie away from the Chamber of Commerce."

  "Wouldn't that just upset Bob?" Tricia asked.

  Angelica waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, he'd get over it . . . eventually. It's just that he can offer her benefits like health care and the like." She sighed dramatically, truly the epitome of the put-upon small business owner.

  "It might be a stretch, but you could offer benefits," Russ pointed out. "Of course you'd have to pay for it. I do it for my two employees through a group plan."

  "Oh?" Angelica said, actually sounding interested. "Doesn't the Chamber offer insurance? I know some do in New York."

  Russ shook his head. "It's not legal here in New Hampshire. But I'm pretty sure the Chamber stocks a few brochures on local group plans for their members. Ask Frannie for one. She doesn't have to know why you want it."

  Angelica raised an eyebrow. "I might have to offer benefits just to keep an employee for more than a few weeks." She shook her head. "People these days have such an entitlement complex. They think everything should be done for them. Tricia--set the table," she ordered, her tone full of entitlement.

  Tricia did as she was told. Chicken cordon bleu made a far better dinner than pizza. It made one more affable to commands from someone else in one's own kitchen. She only half listened as Russ and Angelica discussed the pros and cons of group health insurance plans. She needed to keep Angelica away from Haven't Got a Clue tomorrow night. Perhaps she could enlist Bob's help--get him to take Angelica out of the picture and keep her safe from any potential harm.

  Or was she just getting paranoid? Was it likely Nikki would pull out a gun and shoot whoever was in the store at the time? Don't be silly, she chided herself, yet worry continued to worm through her. Her grand plan was hit-andmiss at best. She was counting on the element of surprise.

  Nikki was the unknown, possibly explosive, factor. If she was capable of murder--and attempted murder--what else was she capable of?

  "Would you like a glass of wine, Trish?" Angelica asked.

  Tricia looked up, took in her sister's face. Angelica was here, in her kitchen, cooking a meal for her, because she didn't want Tricia to be alone--to possibly face a murderer with no backup. That was a form of love she'd never expected to receive from Angelica.

  Tricia gave her sister a sincere smile. "Yes, Ange, I would."

  The phone rang the whole next day, and tour buses disgorged hundreds of tourists looking for bargains, rare books, and the volumes missing from their personal libraries. Haven't Got a Clue hadn't been this busy since the week before Christmas. Even the weather had seemed to break, bringing warmer temperatures and a flood of customers.

  Besides being kept busy by the minutiae of running her own business, when others weren't on the phone to Tricia, she was on the phone contacting the players for the little drama she expected to produce that night. Only Sheriff Adams balked at the idea. It was time to implement Plan B.

  Back in her loft apartment, Tricia dialed Grace Harris's number, crossing her fingers that she'd find Mr. Everett's companion at home.

  "Hello?" Grace answered.

  "It's Tricia Miles. I've got two reasons for calling. First, I've had to cancel tonight's meeting."

  "Oh, and I was so looking forward to it."

  "I'm a little pressed for time, so I'll let Mr. Everett explain everything."

  "Secrets?" Grace said thoughtfully.

  "For the time being."

  "Just like a good mystery. I shall look forward to seeing William tonight. But what's your other reason for calling?"

  "As I think you're aware, Sheriff Adams and I aren't the best of friends."

  Grace laughed. "I think the entire village knows that."

  "You, on the other hand have a lot of clout in this town. I need to get the sheriff to come to my store at six p.m."

  "Does this have anything to do with Zoe Carter's death?"

  "Yes, it does."

  "Will the sheriff be making an arrest?"

  "If someone can persuade her to come. The problem is, she's already rebuffed my invitation to join us. She wasn't happy last fall when I tried to point her in the direction of Doris Gleason's killer, and she isn't open to my suggestions now, either."

  "I'll do my best to persuade her, and get back to you after I speak with her."

  "Thank you, Grace. I can't tell you how much this means to me."

  "Dear, it doesn't begin to repay you for what you did for me last fall. I'll call you as soon as I speak to her."

  "Thank you, Grace. Good-bye."

  Tricia was getting more antsy by the minute. At almost three o'clock, when she could stand the inactivity no longer, she grabbed her coat and escaped the shop, heading for the Chamber of Commerce. This mission was too important to accomplish via telephone.

  As usual, Frannie was on the phone when she arrived.

  She waved a less-than-cheerful hello and continued talking, her voice lower, less boisterous than usual. In fact, she almost sounded depressed--something Trici
a hadn't thought Frannie was capable of.

  Knowing this might take time, Tricia wandered into the cabin's main room, bypassing the free coffee and heading for the brochure rack. As Russ had mentioned, in addition to tourist material covering the bulk of southern New Hampshire, Tricia found a folder for the local group health insurance plans. She glanced through it before pocketing it for Angelica. On impulse, she grabbed one for herself, too.

  At last, Frannie hung up the phone. "What brings you out to visit during work hours?"

  "I had an errand to run," Tricia lied, "and thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. You're the last one on my list."

  "List?"

  "Of members. I wanted to personally let you know that I had to cancel the book club meeting for tonight."

  "Oh, and I was so looking forward to it. I thought it might be good for all of us to get together to, you know, kind of heal after what happened last week. But maybe it's better for us to just take a break. Has something come up?"

  "Yes. I've already spoken to everyone else to let them know."

  "And?"

  "And?" Tricia echoed.

  "What came up?"

  "Oh. Well . . ." Her mind scrambled. "It's . . . it's Angelica. She's had such a hard time keeping workers that she's fallen terribly far behind in her paperwork. I felt so bad for her I volunteered to help her out this evening-- what with it being early closing and everything."

  "That is so sweet of you."

  Tricia nodded. "Well, that's what being a sister is all about."

  Frannie sighed. "I just had the best time helping Angelica out on Sunday. I wish I could do it again."

  "Oh? I thought she said you'd be coming back next weekend."

  "I'd love to, but Bob won't let me."

  "He won't let--why?"

  "He doesn't think it looks good for the Chamber's only paid employee to be moonlighting at a second job."

  "But helping Ange isn't like a real job. It's helping out. Okay, so maybe she paid you--she did pay you, didn't she?"

  "Oh, yes. And very well, too."

  "But that isn't a regular job."

  "According to Bob it is."

  "But he knows how swamped she is. How could he begrudge you helping out his girlfriend?"

  "I don't know. I've known Bob for over a decade, and I've never seen him so angry." Her lip trembled. "It really hurt my feelings."

  "I don't blame you for being so upset," Tricia said. "Does Angelica know about this?"

  "I didn't think it was my place to say anything. But I do need to let her know I can't help her out this weekend. And I was so looking forward to it."

  "Do you mind if I speak to Bob?"

  "That's up to you. But don't be surprised if he reams your ears out good, too."

  He'd better not, Tricia thought.

  Frannie let out a breath and straightened. "I'd best get back to work. I don't want Bob angry with me if I don't get the monthly flyers folded, stuffed, stamped, and to the post office before the end of the day."

  "Okay. I'll see you soon."

  Frannie sniffed, and for a moment Tricia thought she might cry. She reached out and gave her friend a hug. "It'll work out," she said.

  "I hope so," Frannie said, and pulled back from the embrace. "Until yesterday, I loved my job. I hope I can feel good about it again in a week or so." She turned back to her desk.

  Tricia left the Chamber office and marched next door to the Kelly Real Estate office. By the time she yanked open the door, steam threatened to escape from her ears.

  Bob sat at his cluttered desk. He looked up at her entry and smiled. "Hey, Tricia, I was just about to call you on--"

  "What have you done to poor Frannie?" she demanded, cutting him off.

  "Done?" he asked, and stood, his plastered-on grin faltering.

  "Yes, I just spoke to her, and she said she'd gotten in trouble for working at the Cookery on Sunday."

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because it looks bad for the Chamber."

  "How?"

  "Frannie is the public face of the Chamber. She gets paid a decent salary to work for us."

  "Minimum wage?"

  "No. We pay her better than that. A bit better."

  "A bit better? What does that mean?"

  "Two dollars an hour over minimum wage."

  "And you expect her to live on that? I'm surprised she hasn't had to find a second job before now. Oh, wait, you'd probably fire her if she did."

  "Now, Tricia, she gets health care benefits, too."

  "And how much does she have to pay toward that?"

  "Fifty percent."

  "Fifty percent?" she repeated, hardly believing what she'd just heard. "On two dollars an hour over minimum wage?"

  "There aren't that many clerical jobs in Stoneham. Frannie's lucky to be with us. She's only got a high school diploma, you know."

  "Doesn't ten years of experience with the Chamber count for anything?"

  Bob shook his head, his expression insufferably patient, as if he was about to speak to someone with a low IQ. "We're paying a wage commensurate with her education and comparable jobs within the community."

  "Then obviously the community isn't paying its female workers a living wage."

  Bob shook his head again and looked at his watch, as though she was taking up too much of his time.

  "Who's going to tell Angelica about this?" Tricia demanded.

  "Angelica?" he repeated, a note of alarm entering his voice.

  "Yes. She's expecting Frannie to show up to help her out on Saturday. I don't think it ought to be Frannie who tells Angelica why she can't be there. And I don't think it should be me who tells her, either. That leaves only one person."

  "Me?" he asked, appalled.

  "Yes, Bob, you. And the sooner, the better. In fact, this evening would be perfect. It's early closing night. You could take her to dinner and break the news to her. Take her someplace nice, too, won't you?"

  "I'd planned to take her to this little seafood place I know in Portsmouth."

  "That's wonderful. And I'll make it my business to talk to her tomorrow morning to make sure this little situation has been resolved."

  "You'd check up on me?"

  "Yes. And if she doesn't know the reason why Frannie can't work for her on Saturday, I will tell her myself, and you can bet I won't put the same spin on it you would."

  "That sounds like a threat."

  "You bet it is," Tricia said. She turned, grabbed the handle, and made sure she slammed the door on her way out.

  Tricia worked off most of her anger on the chilly walk back to her store. She stopped off at the Cookery to find a harassed Angelica overwhelmed with customers. Whipping off her coat, she held down the register for fifteen minutes while her sister helped patrons. Thankfully, the bus that awaited most of the customers had a tight schedule, and the store soon emptied out.

  "Thanks for showing up when you did. It's been like this all day," Angelica said, breathless.

  "What happened to your new employee?"

  "She didn't show up." Angelica studied Tricia's face. "Why are you here?"

  Tricia wriggled back into her coat sleeves. "I brought you this," she said, taking the health care brochure out of her pocket. "I haven't had a chance to look at it, but you might want to study it carefully. Hiring Frannie away from the Chamber might not be as difficult as you thought."

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's for you to find out. I'm sworn to secrecy."

  "Intriguing," Angelica said with a smile. She looked down at the brochure in her hand. "I will study it. Thank you."

  The phone rang, and Angelica practically jumped on it. "The Cookery, how can I help you?" She paused. "Oh, Bob, it's you! Sure, I'm free tonight."

  Tricia forced a smile and waved as she let herself out. At least one part of her plan had been set into motion. She continued down the walk to Haven't Got a Clue. It was full of customers who were in need of assistance.


  As the rest of the afternoon wore on, and still no word from Grace, Tricia's anxiety multiplied. As she checked her watch for the hundredth time, she hoped Nikki had been kept as busy over at the Stoneham Patisserie. At the same time, if she was run ragged, Tricia worried Nikki might opt out of attending the weekly book club meeting-- which would spoil everything.