TWENTY-THREE
Thanks to the influx of leaf peepers, seating at Booked for Lunch was again limited, so Tricia met Angelica at her apartment for their midday meal. The intoxicating aroma of homemade soup filled the apartment. “What have you got for us?” Tricia asked.
“Some chicken vegetable soup and toasted cheese sandwiches. Tommy at the café made the soup; I’m making the sandwiches. Would you prefer Swiss, provolone, or American cheese on yours?”
“Swiss, please.”
“Same here.”
Tricia poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen island. “Anything new?”
“Darling Tricia, it would take me hours to update you on what’s happening in NR Associates Land. Suffice it to say that Antonio has everything under control so that I can concentrate on the Morrison Mansion renovation.”
“And the update is?”
“I had the big rug delivered to a place where it will be cleaned and should have it back in a week. I can’t wait to see how it will look in the front parlor.”
“Surely the room isn’t ready,” Tricia protested.
“You’re right. I’ll just roll it out to admire it and then put it in storage until the room is completed.” Angelica buttered two slices of bread before placing them in a hot skillet. “What’s going on in your world?”
Tricia mentioned the story about the Harvicks’ bees and her conversation with Lois Kerr that morning.
Angelica shook her head. “I never know why people lie on their résumés and such. They’re sure to be found out.”
“As Lois said, no one on the library board seemed concerned.”
“No, but it says something about Amelia’s character that she would pull a deplorable stunt like that.”
Tricia thought so, too, but didn’t comment. “Oh, I also spoke to Ian McDonald at the Dog-Eared Page last night.”
“I thought you were taking David straight home after dinner.”
“I did. Afterward, I went to the pub on my own.”
Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Was that wise?”
Tricia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you’re dating one man, should you be meeting another, and in a public place for the wagging tongues?”
“I was there to talk shop,” Tricia declared.
“You and Ian don’t work together,” Angelica countered.
Tricia couldn’t refute that statement and watched as Angelica placed cheese on the toasting bread, capping it with more buttered slices. “I told Ian what I know about Lauren’s illustrator.”
Angelica busied herself by checking the color of the bread in the skillet. “Uh-huh.”
“Oddly enough, as I was leaving, Becca Chandler sashayed into the pub.”
“Is that so strange?”
“Apparently, she was there to meet Ian.”
Angelica turned to study her sister. “Are you jealous?”
“No!” Tricia protested. “I’m with David and we’re perfectly happy.”
Angelica looked skeptical. “Sure,” she said, drawing out the word and flipping the sandwiches.
Tricia felt heat creep up her neck and settle onto her cheeks, a surge of irritation coursing through her that she should have such a reaction. “Anyway, I just thought it was a little weird.”
“That an attractive man should be drawn to an attractive woman? Why?”
“Not at all,” Tricia protested, but then she had no factual rebuttal, either.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Angelica exclaimed. “Dan Reed was arrested last night.”
“What? For Lauren’s killing?” Tricia asked, shocked.
“No, but it turns out he was one of the people who was harassing her.”
“Wait a minute. Where did you hear this?”
“Our own Patti Perkins from the Stoneham Weekly News got wind of it and told Antonio, who told me. It turns out Patti’s quite the little crackerjack reporter. And to think Russ Smith thought her only worth was as a typist.”
“Yes, yes, Patti’s terrific. Now, what did she say?”
“That Chief McDonald arrested him yesterday afternoon for cyberstalking Lauren for the past month.”
Irritation made Tricia frown. The chief hadn’t shared that information with her the previous evening. “What did Dan do? Send Lauren threatening e-mails?”
“Yes, and some of them were pretty obscene.”
“Did Patti get to see any of them?”
“No, but her informant did.”
“Who’s that?” Tricia asked.
“Patti’s not about to out someone who gives her confidential information, not if she wants to keep getting hot tips.”
“What about the threats?” Tricia asked.
“Lauren was told if she came to Stoneham to spread word of her filthy books she would never leave the village alive.”
Tricia frowned. “Because a chameleon naturally changes color?”
Angelica nodded.
“But that’s what chameleons do.”
Angelica nodded.
“How many times did he e-mail her?” Tricia asked.
“Four hundred and thirty-seven times over a period of three weeks.”
Tricia blinked. “When did the man have time to grill a burger at the diner?”
Angelica shrugged and plopped the sandwiches on plates before slicing them into triangles. “Maybe he stayed up late.”
“They were able to trace Dan’s IP address?”
“Apparently.”
“Why did it take so long to find this out?” Tricia asked.
“Well, maybe the fact that Lauren was a woman had something to do with it,” Angelica said sourly.
Tricia’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think law enforcement protects genders equally?”
Angelica glared at her sister, nearly dropping the plate in front of her. “Restraining orders,” she said flatly. “How strenuously are they enforced? And sometimes women can’t even get them if some judge, usually a man, decides the threat isn’t real if the abuser isn’t a family or household member.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Tricia said.
“That’s the law.”
“And you know this because?”
“Let’s just say I lived to tell the tale. Not all women do. But that’s not a story I wish to tell because I do have some good news about Dan,” Angelica said, and returned to the stove to ladle the soup into bowls.
Tricia was more interested in hearing about her sister’s tale of harassment but felt she couldn’t pursue it right there and then. “What about Dan?”
“He contacted Antonio about selling his building to NR Associates.”
“Wow,” Tricia said, dread seeping into her soul. “Was this before or after his arrest?”
“After. Maybe it finally sank in that he could be in real trouble for what he’s done.”
“Why wouldn’t he go through a real estate agent?”
“Apparently he wants a quick sale and figured NR Associates had the deepest pockets.”
“So, you’re getting what you want,” Tricia stated.
Angelica brought the bowls to the island and took her seat. “That depends on what the appraisal brings up. If Dan has been so lackadaisical with the food he serves, he may have treated his property in the same manner.”
“It certainly seems like standards fell once his wife was out of the picture,” Tricia agreed, picking up her spoon. “Do you have a timeline for moving in?”
Angelica shook her head. “The place will have to be gutted, and Tommy will probably want a whole new kitchen.”
“So, you intend to keep Booked for Lunch open until you can move into the bigger space?”
“I might even keep it open afterward. I haven’t made up my mind.”
“Have you spoken to Pixie yet?” Tricia asked, dreading the answer.
Angelica shook her head. “No. There’s no need for that until or unless I decide to open the new restaurant space.”
“You realize that if you acquire an additional place, you’ll have a complete lock on food services for the entire village.” Not only would Angelica own the new restaurant, but she already owned the Dog-Eared Page, the Brookview Inn, and the Eat Lunch food truck.
Angelica looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.” She smiled and struck a pose. “Angelica Miles, restaurant mogul.” Then she laughed.
Tricia didn’t find the idea funny. “What if Dan finds out you and Nigela are the same person?”
Angelica immediately sobered. “Is that likely?”
Tricia shrugged. “So many people already know that it’s a distinct possibility.”
Angelica didn’t look concerned. “I assume he’s going to want a quick sale. If he won’t sell to me, he might have trouble selling at all before he’s in bankruptcy court.”
“Dan’s stubborn. He might go down and refuse to sell to you on principle.”
“And I would still get it because if it goes into foreclosure, the bank will sell it to the highest bidder.”
It seemed to Tricia that her sister sounded more than a little smug. “Don’t you feel even a little bit bad about not giving someone else the opportunity to open an eatery?”
Angelica looked at her sister with a blank stare. “No. Other locations in and around the village could be converted. If Becca were smart, she’d open a high-end restaurant on the lot she owns down the road, and it should play on her brand. It could be a destination spot.”
“I doubt she wants to be in the hospitality business,” Tricia remarked.
“She could build it and lease it.”
“Could the village support another restaurant?” Tricia asked.
“I think so,” Angelica said. “Maybe I’ll suggest it to her the next time I see her.”
“You do that,” Tricia said, hoping she’d kept the sarcasm out of her voice. “But you also said Dan was one of the people stalking Lauren. Do they know who—or how many others—were harassing her?”
“Apparently, the investigation is ongoing.”
For all Dan’s foibles—and stupidity—Tricia wasn’t convinced he was a murderer.
But then, who did kill Lauren Barker?
Tricia returned to Haven’t Got a Clue feeling unsettled after her conversation with her sister—especially when learning about Dan Reed and his despicable harassment of Lauren Barker. But there were also other things on her mind, like her encounter earlier in the day with Lois Kerr. Tricia knew that Grace Harris-Everett was a member of the Stoneham Library board and wondered what she would have to say about Lois to the library’s other members. On impulse, she picked up the phone and dialed the Everett Foundation, speaking with its secretary, Linda Fugitt.
“Hi, Linda, it’s Tricia Miles. I wonder if Grace would have time this afternoon to talk to me. I’d only need ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Let me check her calendar.”
Tricia waited impatiently for what seemed like eons but could have been only fifteen or twenty seconds before Linda came back on the line. “She’s got time this afternoon. Would four o’clock suit you?”
“Perfect. I’ll see her then.”
“Great. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
“Thanks.” Since the appointment was forty-five minutes away, Tricia decided to busy herself in the store’s office with a keen eye on the clock.
At 3:59, she crossed Main Street and arrived at the foundation office at precisely four o’clock, and Linda quickly ushered her into Grace’s office.
“Tricia, you don’t have to make an appointment to see me,” Grace protested. She looked regal sitting behind her desk, with her perfectly coiffed hair, and wearing a gray silk blouse and pearls.
“I know how busy you are with all the requests for help that come into the foundation. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“It’s no interruption. Now, what can I do for you, dear?”
Tricia took a seat in front of Grace’s desk. “I spoke to Lois Kerr this morning, and she seemed to think that despite all her years of experience with the library, there would be no place for her on their governing board.”
Grace folded her hands, and her gaze dipped to focus on the top of her desk. She didn’t speak for long seconds; when she did, her words and tone were measured.
“Lois was extremely good at her job as library director, which is why she held it for decades. Let’s just say she had clashes with the current board. Several members rejoiced when she announced her retirement.”
“Was she that difficult to work with?” Tricia asked.
“I suppose it depends on your definition of ‘difficult.’ I would describe Lois as passionate about her work and what was good for the library. She assembled a superb staff, including young David.”
Once again, Tricia fought not to wince at that descriptor.
“From what I understand, David has a remarkable rapport with both the children and their parents who use the library.”
“But you said Amelia might want to get rid of him.”
“I still hope she’ll drop that idea. In just the short time David has been the children’s librarian, the library has seen an uptick in children’s books being checked out, and we’ve had good feedback from not only parents but from several elementary school teachers that their students who use the public library are already showing increased interest in reading. David has the knack to find out what they’d enjoy and encourages them to explore different things to read. He knows what’s on the shelves and who they’ll appeal to.”
A thread of pride and affection coursed through her and caused Tricia to smile, but then she sobered, needing to get the conversation about Lois back on track.
“In what way did Lois clash with the board?”
Again, Grace seemed to want to tread softly when speaking about the situation. “Let’s just say some board members”—she paused and mouthed the word men—“thought she was strong-willed. It was hoped Amelia Doyle would be more attentive to the board’s whims.”
“But wasn’t it Lois who suggested Amelia for the job?”
“Yes.”
“And how is she doing so far?”
“Adequately. She hasn’t had the position long enough for an evaluation, although she seems to be trying to make it her own in as short a time as possible.”
“You mean like deciding to fire David?”
“Amelia doesn’t have that ability, but as his direct supervisor, she does have input should she complain to the board.”
Tricia nodded, not feeling at all reassured.
“Did Lois mention that she’d like to become a board member?” Grace asked.
Tricia shook her head. “She more or less said she wouldn’t be considered.”
Grace nodded. “That’s too bad. I have always enjoyed working with her. She’s got spunk.”
The descriptor made Tricia smile. “Yes, she does.” Again, the smile was short-lived. “As Chamber co-president, it’s my responsibility to work with Amelia on promoting the January library book sale.”
“You don’t sound like you’re looking forward to it.”
“I’m not. I feel conflicted because of my relationship with David.”
Again, Grace nodded. “Couldn’t Angelica handle that?”
“Honestly, with everything she’s juggling, I don’t see her having the time to take on another project.”
“She is a busy woman,” Grace agreed. “I’m so glad she makes time for our little family. We can’t express how happy visiting with Ginny and the children makes us. Sundays are our favorite day of the week.”
“Mine, too,” Tricia said, again experiencing a flush of warmth and affection for everyone in their little family circle.
The phone rang in the outer office, and seconds later, the intercom buzzed. “Grace, it’s Libby Hirt from the Food Shelf. Do you want to take the call?”
Tricia immediately stood. “Go ahead and take it. I need to get back to my store,” she whispered.
“Uh, yes,” Grace told Linda. “Please tell her to hang on a moment.”
Tricia backed toward the door. “I’ll see you Sunday.” And she blew a kiss before exiting.
Grace nodded and smiled before answering the call. “Yes, Libby, thank you for returning my call,” Tricia heard Grace say as she closed the office door.
Tricia waited for traffic to pass before she crossed the street and returned to Haven’t Got a Clue, where she got a status update from Pixie. With less than an hour to go before closing and only a few customers in sight, Tricia again excused herself to ostensibly work in the office, but instead she logged on to her computer to Google the latest news on Lauren Barker’s murder.
The first item that came up was an update on John Mason, the man who’d turned himself in, confessing to her murder. Unsurprisingly, he’d been released from the county jail earlier in the day for lack of evidence. She wondered if the poor old man had a place to sleep and hoped the Nashua PD hadn’t just turned him loose to fend for himself. There didn’t seem to be any other information. Checking her e-mail, Tricia was surprised to see a reply from her query on Brian Woodward’s website, which had arrived half an hour before. She tapped the link and eagerly read the reply.
I’d be interested to learn what you think you know about Lauren Barker. Reply to this e-mail. You may or may not hear from me again.
Well, that was something. Tricia would have preferred a face-to-face Zoom meeting or even a phone conversation with the illustrator, but she’d take what she could get.
She typed: As her collaborator, I assume you know what was going on in Lauren’s life. The harassment on more than one front and that she looked up an old friend for advice on security measures. You spoke to her just before her death…. I saw you not only on the evening of Lauren’s death but also three days after walking along Stoneham’s main drag. I’m sure the Stoneham police chief would like to know about that, too, if he hasn’t already contacted you by now. I realize you have no obligation to tell me what you know about Lauren’s situation, but…
But what? Tricia hadn’t known Lauren personally. Had never spoken to her. How could she explain her interest to a man who may or may not have murdered the woman? Wasn’t that just asking for trouble? Of course, Woodward could be completely innocent. Just a business associate, a friend…or was he Lauren’s lover? Was Tricia setting herself up as a target by contacting the man?
Woodward indicated that he may or may not reply. Tricia studied the keyboard for long seconds, figured what the heck, and hit the enter key, sending her message to the illustrator. She didn’t picture him sitting in front of his computer, eager for her reply, and she had things to do.
Tricia emerged just five minutes before closing to find that the shop was in tip-top shape, the carpet vacuumed, the beverage station cleaned and ready for the next day, and her staff eyeing the clock.
“Time to close,” she called cheerfully. Mr. Everett took off his apron, collected Pixie’s, and headed for the back of the store to hang them before bringing back their coats.
“Have a nice evening, Ms. Miles,” Mr. Everett called.
“See ya!” Pixie said cheerfully, and the two of them practically waltzed out the door. Tricia doled out a snack for her cat before grabbing her jacket and heading for Angelica’s apartment. She wasn’t all that hungry for food, but she was hungry for solace. Too many things she’d learned that day had been…upsetting was too strong a word. Perhaps discomforting. For now, she craved a quiet setting, a chilled martini, and the company of her sister, who was her best sounding board….
When she could get a word in edgewise.