Book Clubbed (15 page)

“Not as much as I'd hoped.” Tricia left it at that.

She was about to head to the back of the store to hang up her coat when she remembered that she'd promised Angelica she'd ask Grace about her attending Mr. Everett's surprise birthday party on Friday. She made an about-face, set her coat on the back of one of the nook's comfortable chairs, and headed to the cash desk to make the call.

“Hi, Linda. It's Tricia Miles. Is there a chance I could talk to Grace?”

“I'm sorry,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but Mrs. Harris-Everett has stepped away from her desk.” Tricia winced. How could she have forgotten that Grace had said that her assistant, Linda, was out following an emergency appendectomy? The person who answered was no doubt the temp she'd mentioned she'd hired.

“Oh, dear. I was hoping to speak to her before this afternoon. Could you please have her call me?”

“Of course. Although if you want to catch her, she said she was going to stop by the Dog-Eared Page. Perhaps you might see her there.”

Tricia couldn't help but smile. Grace really must have enjoyed that sherry the other day. “Thanks. I'll do that.”

“Have a good evening,” the temp said and ended the call.

Tricia set down the receiver and picked up her coat once more.

“Going somewhere else?” Pixie asked.

“Um, yes. I need to run across the street for a minute or two. I shouldn't be gone long.”

“Take your time,” Pixie said, and went back to studying the catalogs. “Me and Miss Marple have got nothing
but
time to kill.”

Pixie killing time during working hours was not terribly efficient, but it was convenient to have her there when Tricia wanted to run errands. She donned her coat and headed out the door once more.

Tricia opened the door to the Dog-Eared Page and found it quiet, with only three or four customers. Shawn, the daytime bartender, was waiting on several early-evening customers, while the pub's manager, Michele Fowler, sat at one of the back tables with Grace. Tricia paused. She could hardly ask Grace to invite Angelica to Mr. Everett's birthday celebration with Michele there.

She was about to turn and leave when Grace saw her, waving a hand for Tricia to come and join them. She pasted on a smile and threaded her way between the tables, heading toward the back of the room.

“Tricia, what brings you here at this time of day?” Grace asked, smiling.

“The woman in your office told me I might find you here.”

“Oh?”

“It's about Friday night,” she said, lowering her voice.

“William's birthday?” Michele asked with a grin. “Grace was just telling me about it. Sounds like it will be a jolly good time.”

“Yes, it does,” Tricia agreed warily.

“The thing I miss most about working days is joining friends for dinner. I'm missing out on all the fun,” Michele said with a pout.

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Grace asked Tricia.

There was no other way to get around it. “It seems Angelica would like to be included in Mr. Everett's birthday bash. She was going to call you herself, but I didn't want her to put you on the spot.”

“Nonsense. I'm sure William would love to have her join us. That is, he would if he knew about the party, especially as she's included us in so many of her own celebrations. I feel ashamed that I didn't think to include her from the start.” She turned to Michele. “Now you are sworn to secrecy,” she chided.

Michele laughed, and for a moment held her index finger to her lips. “I shan't tell a soul. But should you want to continue the celebration after dinner, I hope you'll come back to the pub. We'll have live music, lots of drink specials, and the first round is on me.”

Grace beamed. “Perhaps we shall.”

Tricia felt awkward standing there. “I'd better get going. I'm so looking forward to Friday. See you then.”

Grace lifted her glass as though in a toast, and Tricia waved before she turned to leave.

The sky was a washed-out gray and the wind was fierce when Tricia stepped out of the Dog-Eared Page. She waited for several cars to pass before she crossed the street and saw a man with a week's worth of stubble on his cheeks bundled in a ragged camouflage coat, a matching hunting cap, and a scarf wrapped around his face, who stood in the space between By Hook or By Book and the Outer Limits Sci-Fi and Comics shop. The man had wrapped his arms around himself and looked half frozen. Were there actually homeless people tramping the streets of Stoneham?

The man seemed to notice Tricia staring, and turned and hurried down the street. There was something familiar about his gait. And then Tricia realized just who it was she'd been studying. “Bob! Bob Kelly! Wait!” Her calls only made the man break into a run.

Tricia frowned, checked traffic once again, and crossed the street for her shop.

The bell over the door jangled cheerfully, but Tricia felt anything but cheerful as she entered. Still seated in the readers' nook, Pixie looked up from the catalog she'd been perusing. “Is something wrong?”

“Did you see a man in a camo jacket outside just a few minutes ago?”

Pixie nodded. “Yeah, I did. Looked like some old rummy. Not the kind of guy you usually see hanging around the village.”

“I think it was Bob Kelly.”

“Shut up!” Pixie said, rising from her seat and moving to join Tricia.

“I'm serious.”

They both looked south out the big display window. “I've never seen that guy without his green sport coat,” Pixie said with a shrug. “Has he come on hard times?”

“He seems to have been hiding for the past couple of days—maybe as long as a week.”

Again Pixie shrugged. “Has he got a
reason
to hide?”

Tricia sighed. Yes, he did. But she wasn't sure she should be talking to Pixie about it.

Pixie looked at the clock on the wall. “Holy cow, it's about time for me to hit the road.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be gone so long and for most of the day, especially since you said you needed to get a new tire for your car.”

“Don't worry about it. Tomorrow I'll just set my alarm for an hour earlier and see if I can get that tire before I come in to work. I might have to wait, though, so don't panic if I'm a few minutes late.”

“I won't.” Pixie took Tricia's coat and went to the back of the store to fetch her own.

“I really appreciate all the boring hours you've put in this winter.”

“Are you kidding? I haven't been bored for one second of the time I've spent here at Haven't Got a Clue. You want boredom? Spend a couple of years in stir. That's almost as bad as a death sentence. And thanks to your giving me this job, I'm never going to jail again.”

For a moment Tricia thought Pixie might burst into tears. “I'm glad you feel that way, Pixie. Now, shoo! Go get that new tire for your car.”

“Thanks, boss. See you tomorrow.”

As Pixie went out the door, Angelica entered, carrying a large pizza box. “Anybody hungry?” she called cheerfully.

“I'll say. I missed lunch today.”

“And don't I know it,” Angelica said. “Your tuna plate is still sitting in my undercounter fridge.”

Miss Marple raised her sleepy head and looked at Angelica as she unfastened her coat, shrugged out of it, and tossed it onto the cash desk. “Let's eat this in the readers' nook.”

“No soda?” Tricia asked.

“Rats. Sorry. I forgot. Have you got any wine?”

“By the time I run upstairs to get it and some glasses, the pizza will be cold. Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee dregs and pizza?” Angelica asked, appalled. “No thanks.”

No longer drowsy, a hopeful Miss Marple sat primly in her chair, watching Tricia's every move as she grabbed a wad of paper napkins from the beverage station and joined Angelica in the nook.

Angelica opened the box, letting out a burst of steam, and selected a slice before shoving the pie toward Tricia. “Oh, good, veggies,” Tricia said.

“Yes, if you put enough on”—and she had: onions, peppers, mushrooms, and broccoli—“you can almost convince yourself that it's a healthy meal.”

They both took a bite. De-lish!

Tricia chewed and swallowed. “Have you heard anything from Karen Johnson?” she asked, eyeing the cat, who'd not only been known to sniff but take a taste of pizza on more than one occasion.

Angelica wiped her mouth with a napkin. “As a matter of fact, yes. I invited her to speak to the Chamber at the next breakfast and she agreed. I figured it would be a nice way for her to get to know everyone.”

“I meant in regard to finding a place for the Chamber to rent.”

“As a matter of fact, yes on that count, too,” Angelica said and practically squealed with delight. “NRA Realty has found the Chamber potential office space.”

“Where?”

“Across from the bank.” She took another bite of her pizza.

Tricia had to think about it for a moment. “I don't remember any office space near there.”

Angelica finished chewing and swallowed. “Think again. The little run-down white house with the shutters falling off.”

Tricia frowned. “You've got to be kidding.”

“No. Apparently Antonio has been working on it for a while. Several months ago Billie Burke at the bank alerted him that the owner might be willing to sell.”

“Bypassing Kelly Realty?” Tricia asked. “What gives?”

“I have no idea. But Antonio finished negotiating a month or so ago and Nigela Ricita Associates took possession of it just today. It's Karen's first property to lease and she's eager to have me look at it. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” Tricia said. After all, she had nothing better to do. “When?”

“This evening.”

“Is that a good time to look at a potential home for the Chamber—in the dark?”

“Why not?”

“You might miss all its flaws and then get stuck with it.”

“I don't think Antonio would let the Chamber get involved if he didn't think it was a good prospect.”

“Promise me you won't make up your mind until after you've seen it,” Tricia advised and noticed Miss Marple inching closer to the open pizza box.

“I won't,” Angelica said.

Tricia ate another bite of her pizza and continued to keep an eye on the cat before speaking again. “I still don't get it. For years Bob's had all the property sewn up on Main Street. How come he never got his hands on that little house?”

“Apparently he annoyed the little old lady who owned it by continually badgering her to sell. She was so irritated she refused to deal with him. When Antonio found out about it, he took it upon himself to track down and meet the owner. Apparently she found him irresistible and he sweet-talked her into the deal.”

“He is rather lovable,” Tricia agreed as Miss Marple raised a paw to bat the pizza box. “No, no,” Tricia admonished and the cat sat back down, looking dutifully chastised. “If I'm not mistaken, that property has been empty the entire time I've lived here in Stoneham. And you're talking about a house—not office space.”

“Karen feels it can easily be converted to office space,” Angelica explained.

“Who owned it?”

“A widow. She moved in with her daughter in Manchester several years back. Apparently the place needs a little work, but NRA Realty is going to refurbish it for us.”

“What are they going to charge the Chamber?” Tricia asked, still finding herself speaking as the voice of doom.

“Oh, dear. I didn't think to ask.” Angelica bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn't have sounded so eager when I spoke to Karen. What if she jacks up the price?”

“You don't have to take it,” Tricia said.

“My storeroom isn't exactly handicapped accessible, and that little house already has a ramp. We need to move someplace and fast.”

“First you need to hire someone to take on the Chamber's day-to-day duties.”

Angelica nodded and sighed. “That I do.” She took another bite of pizza, chewed, and swallowed. “That's all my news for the day. What trouble did you get into today?”

“Hardly trouble. I spoke to Jerry Dittmeyer,” Tricia said.

“Oh?” Angelica said, sounding interested.

She nodded. “Did you know he works for David Black?”

“No,” Angelica replied, distinctly uninterested. “Betsy called David when he first opened his business and asked him to join the Chamber. He said no, of course. Said he didn't want to have to run into either of us if he could help it. Now that I think of it, Betsy reported that little piece of information with a tinge of glee.” She sighed. “I'm sorry she's dead, but I'm awfully glad I won't be stuck with her for the remainder of my term as Chamber president. Speaking of which, I spoke to Libby Hirt.” Libby ran the local job bank, along with the Stoneham Food Shelf. “She's got several people looking for secretarial work. She's going to send me their résumés. In fact, they're probably already in my e-mail in-box. I just haven't had a chance to log on in the past couple of hours.”

“I thought you were going to wait until after Betsy's funeral.”

“Well, no one has said anything about plans, and I do have to keep up with things. I simply can't juggle my own businesses
and
keep the Chamber on track without help.”

Finally figuring out that she wasn't going to be offered a bit of cheese, Miss Marple got up and sauntered away, heading for the back of the store. “Have you thought about hiring a virtual assistant for yourself?” Tricia asked Angelica.

“A virtual assistant? What could someone like that do for me?”

“I had a long conversation about it with the last author who came to sign at Haven't Got a Clue. They do all kinds of things for authors—like posting on various social media sites, and sending out bookmarks and such to fans.”