“If Vince dumped Andrea,” Alice was explaining to Becca as the owner of the diner poured her another glass of ice tea at the counter, “then that might give her a motive for murder. But what about Sally and Harriet, his previous lovers?”
“Sally was a graduate student who stayed in Blithedale for a summer,” Becca said. “Harriet moved across country with her husband. Both are long gone.”
“What if one of them came back?”
Becca shrugged. “No one’s seen either since they left. Why come back and take revenge on Vince now?”
“Good point. Andrea seems the most likely suspect.” Alice sighed. “Then why did I come away from talking to Susan with the feeling that she was the guilty one?”
“Grief makes people say and do strange things.”
“No, it was more than that, Becca. It was a sore point.”
The walk back to Main Street had given Alice plenty of time to think it over. Once she got over the shock of being expelled, she shoved aside her fear that she’d offended Susan. She didn’t believe it. Susan had been frank and unflappable before that. There must be a big reason for her touchiness.
The dinner crowd had kept Becca busy, and Alice had helped her serve customers. Now things were quieting down and Alice felt her own hunger gnaw at her. She’d messaged Ona, asking if she wanted to join her for dinner at the What the Dickens, and every now and then she checked her phone to see if her new friend had responded. Sometimes making a new friend was as nerve-racking as dating.
Meanwhile, she sat at the end of the diner counter, chatting with Becca about her visit to Susan’s.
“The sports car, espresso machine, hot tub,” Alice said, counting off the items on her fingers. “If Vince and Susan had saved their money and paid for them—or they’d taken out bad loans to do it—then Susan wouldn’t have gotten so defensive. But she was acting as if I’d accused her of doing something wrong.”
Becca looked thoughtful. “I did always wonder where Vince got the money to buy those things.”
“Unless Susan bought them.”
Becca shook her head. “No. Susan doesn’t have the money—or the interest.”
Alice remembered what Susan had said about the espresso machine and preferring instant coffee. “She’d be happy with less, wouldn’t she?”
“That’s right. But Vince was the kind of guy who always had big plans. Big dreams.”
“Did he do well as a contractor?”
“He did all right. It’s not like we have a lot to choose from here in Blithedale. So he never lacked work. Though he did go through a rough patch some years ago—after an accident.”
“What accident?”
“A cabin he worked on collapsed. It was in the local news. There were accusations of shoddy work, and it put some people off hiring Vince for a while. But time passed, and people forgot.”
“What did people forget?” someone said behind Alice, and she turned on her stool and saw Ona come to the counter. Alice beamed. She was thrilled to see Ona. A giddy tickle rose from her stomach into her chest, like champagne bubbles. They’d had a blast at the Woodlander Bar, and Ona choosing to join her at the diner was a sign that, maybe, just maybe, they were becoming friends. Alice could use a good friend.
Ona sat down next to Alice and they both looked at the menu, trying to decide what to order. In the end, Ona ordered the burger and fries (“I finished another tiny house today…I could eat a horse”) and Alice opted for the Cobb salad with grilled chicken.
Becca promised to join them.
“I’ve been dreaming about lasagna all day,” she said.
As Becca moved off to get the food, Alice filled Ona in on the latest, trying to make it sound as if they were exchanging gossip, nothing more.
“So, Becca and I were talking about Vince and the cabin that collapsed.”
Ona winked at her. “You mean, you were talking about your sleuthing, eh, Miss Marple?”
Alice felt the heat rise to her face. “I thought I was being subtle.”
Ona laughed. Her laughter sparkled, the perfect complement to her rhinestone eyepatch. “You got pretty chatty at the Woodlander Bar. Plus, your sudden interest in what people are doing in Blithedale is a little unusual.”
Ona laughed even more. Alice couldn’t stay embarrassed—Ona’s laugh was too contagious. She broke down, laughing just as hard as her friend.
“So, tell me,” Ona said, “have you already solved the mystery of Old Mayor Townsend’s missing journal?”
Alice shook her head. “No idea what that’s about. I’m focused on who killed Vince Malone.”
Ona gave Alice a playful nudge. “You don’t pick the easiest mysteries, do you?”
She filled Ona in on her investigations, ending on her discovery that Andrea had fled town and that Susan Malone was hiding something.
Ona frowned. “That does seem strange…”
“And that’s not all.”
She told Ona about how Darrell Townsend had guessed she was snooping around his business, and that he threatened her.
“What did he threaten to do?”
“He said he’d—” Alice hesitated.
She liked Ona. She wanted to trust her. But she was reluctant to share details about Rich with anyone.
Ona put a hand on her arm. “It’s OK. You don’t have to tell me. I can guess. Darrell found out who you’re running from, and he threatened to reveal that you’re here in Blithedale.”
“Yes.” Alice let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.
“Not surprising he’d do that. He’s a slime ball.”
“He seems to get what he wants.”
She told Ona about her conversation with Andrea, and how Andrea had said the protesters had won the battle, but Darrell would win the war.
“She’s right,” Ona said. “The Oriels were a godsend for the bookstore. Now Bunce has made the situation impossible, playing right into Darrell’s hands.”
Alice rested her chin in her hands, her elbows on the countertop. “Andrea was right about this: If only Bunce bothered to invest in renovations, maybe he’d attract a different buyer.”
Becca arrived with Ona’s burger and fries.
“You know, crazy as it sounds, I sympathize with Bunce,” Ona said, taking a big bite out of her burger.
“You do?” Alice said.
Ona nodded, chewing. Then said, “I’m not saying he’s handled his side of things well. But he’s clearly in over his head. It isn’t easy running a business and owning the building. When I bought the Pemberley Inn, it was in a shambles. I didn’t have enough money to fix the place up. Not the way I wanted. And no bank would give me a loan.”
“But the inn looks beautiful.”
“I did a lot of work. And I funded it by running fundraisers, auctioning off Jane Austen merchandise, nights at the inn, even my own skills as a carpenter.”
“That worked?” Alice asked, surprised.
“It worked like a charm.”
Ona’s idea set off a chain reaction in Alice’s mind. What if they could repeat Ona’s success? What if they could raise money for Bunce, fix up the bookstore, and attract the right kind of buyers? Maybe they could convince Bunce to reconsider his deal with Darrell, after all.
“What you did to raise funds for Pemberley Inn,” she said, “couldn’t we do the same for the bookstore?”
“Do what Bunce should’ve done years ago?” Ona considered it, and then gave a shrug. “It might work.”
“Of course it’ll work,” Becca said, leaning over the counter with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “And if we can convince Mayor MacDonald that this will lead to a more lucrative sale of the bookstore, plus keep downtown Blithedale safe from Darrell’s bulldozers, I bet he’ll force Chief Jimbo to lift the cease and desist order.”
“Mayor MacDonald is all about business,” Ona said, nodding. “His business.”
Alice grinned. “Sounds like we have a plan. Who’s in?”
“I’m in,” Ona said.
“Me too,” Becca said.
Alice felt her heart lifting with renewed hope. This might be a way to save the bookstore. Together, they could make this work.
“There’s only one problem,” Becca said, her smile faltering.
“What’s that?”
“Bunce.”