Bookplate Special (31 page)

The door opened, the little bell below the transom tinkling cheerfully.

Ginny whirled. “Brian! What are you doing here?”

He nodded toward Eugenia. “I followed her.”

“Why aren’t you at work?” Ginny asked, suspiciously.

“I’ve got some things to tell you, Ginny. I . . . kind of lost my evening job.”

“You what?”

“Two weeks ago,” he admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. “And just what have you been doing every work night for the last two weeks?”

“Looking for a new job,” he said, his voice harsh.

“And what else?” Ginny asked, and turned her gaze on Eugenia.

“Okay, so I hung out a few nights with Gina.”

“Gina?” Ginny asked, the color rising in her face. “Is that your pet name for her?”

Joe looked confused. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” Eugenia said.

“Apparently there’s a lot more going on than I thought,” Tricia said.

“Me, too,” Ginny agreed. She turned back to Brian. “And I’d like an explanation.”

Brian walked back to the shop door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and pulled down the door shade. “It might be better if we weren’t disturbed.”

Fear crept up Tricia’s spine. Nothing good would come of this conversation. They might learn the facts of what had happened when Pammy died, but she sensed lives were about to be changed—and not for the better.

Tricia swallowed before she asked her next question. “Who dumped Pammy into the garbage cart?”

“That was me,” Brian admitted, turning to face them once again. “I told her to leave Eugenia alone. I only meant to scare her when I tossed her into the garbage.”

“Did you know about this, Eugenia?” Joe demanded, his voice hard with anger.

“Not at first,” she admitted, and turned her gaze to take in Brian. “I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”

“Who kept calling me, demanding the diary?” Tricia asked.

“I did it,” Eugenia said. “I knew you had to have it. That stinking, evil witch stayed with you for two weeks. I figured since it wasn’t in her car—”

“You broke into her car?” Ginny asked.

“We didn’t have to. Brian took her keys. We drove the car over to Hanson Lane and looked through the trunk, but we didn’t find anything, so we left it there. We figured Pammy would eventually find it. And then she turned up dead, and we were scared.”

“What about the calls?” Tricia reminded her.

“Like I said,” Eugenia continued, “we figured you had to have it, so we drove to Nashua and got one of those voice-altering things for the phone. We figured I wouldn’t get in trouble if I didn’t make any specific threat—and I didn’t.”

“It’s up to the sheriff to decide if you’ve broken any laws.” Tricia turned her attention to Brian. “And it’s up to a grand jury to decide whether Pammy’s death is murder or manslaughter,” she said. “But either way, you’re both in pretty deep trouble.”

“I’m
not
going to jail,” Brian said, his voice rising. “I’ve always liked you, Tricia, but I’m not about to let you ruin my life.”

“What about
my
life?” Ginny demanded.

Tricia ignored her. “Brian, your life was ruined the moment you decided to scare Pammy Fredericks. I know you didn’t mean to hurt her—but it’s your fault she’s dead!”

“She was a scumbag. She wanted to ruin people I care about.”

“That may be true, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

“What about
me
?” Ginny insisted, her eyes filled with tears. “Brian, we own a house together. We’re going to get
married
.”

He turned his anguished gaze toward Ginny. “Babe, I’m sorry. I never thought I’d care for Eugenia the way I do. I mean, we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. It just . . . happened.”

Just like it had happened between Joe and M.J., only Libby had never found out.

“And were you going to leave me for Eugenia?” Ginny demanded.

Brian turned away so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I . . . thought about it.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

Ginny took a few choking breaths—sounding like a fish out of water. “And what happens now that Tricia and I know you’re a murderer?”

The door opened. A breathless Angelica burst in, still dressed in her fifties waitress costume, her feet encased in running shoes. Her eyes were wild with fear. “Are you okay, Trish?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Brian said coldly.

“Run!” Tricia shouted.

But Angelica just stood in the doorway, in shock.

Brian moved fast. In seconds he’d grabbed Angelica’s arm and hauled her farther into the store, slamming the door before shoving her against Tricia.

“What are you doing here?” Tricia grated.

“I saw Joe shut the blinds, and I knew Captain Baker told you not to talk to him.”

“So why didn’t you just call nine-one-one?”

“You two shut up and let me think!” Brian ordered.

“Now what are you going to do?” Ginny demanded. “Throw all three of us into the Dumpster?”

“What’s going on?” Angelica demanded.

Brian thrust his hand into his jacket and came out with a handgun, aiming it at Tricia and Angelica.

Ginny gasped. “Where on God’s Earth did you get that?”

“Brian, think about what you’re doing,” Tricia warned. “What happened with Pammy was an accident. If you fire that gun—”

Joe stepped forward. “Nobody’s firing any guns. Hand it over, kid.”

Brian shook his head. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Tricia’s right. You fire that gun, and that’s the end of life as you know it.”

“You’re one to talk. Eugenia told me you shot at Tricia’s windows. You shot Stuart Paige,” Brian said.

Joe’s head snapped as he turned toward his daughter. “That’s not true! Please tell me
you
didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Eugenia cried. “I only meant to scare Tricia. If Paige hadn’t moved, he never would’ve been shot.”

“You lied to me,” Brian said to her, angry.

“I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Joe’s face flushed, and he pursed his lips. He looked past his daughter and spoke to Brian. “You’re both already in enough trouble. Enough mistakes have already been made. Don’t make any more, kid.”

Brian stared at the people surrounding him. The gun in his hand wavered.

“How long are we going to stand around like this?” Angelica groused. “Are you going to kill all of us? What will you do with our bodies?”

“Forensics will always nail a killer, Brian,” a grim-faced Ginny piped up. “I learned that reading mysteries and thrillers.”

“Shut up, Ginny! Just shut up!” Brian hollered.

Another tear slid down Ginny’s cheek. “And to think I almost married you.”

“We can’t just stand here all night,” Joe said reasonably.

Tricia swallowed. Sure they could! The best way to defuse the situation was to talk it out, not egg Brian on. But Joe took another step forward. The gun swung in his direction.

“This is insane!” Eugenia shouted. “Brian, what are you doing? Put that gun down. We’ll never be together if you fire that thing.”

“Quiet! Just everyone be quiet.”

Joe shook his head. “I’ve had enough.” He marched forward, his right hand reaching for the gun.

Brian shot him.

Joe staggered and fell to his knees.

Eugenia screamed and jumped forward. “Daddy!”

Mouth open in shock, Brian stared at the gun in his hand.

“Are you all right? Are you all right?” Eugenia screamed, catching her father’s free arm to steady him.

Joe sat back on his heels, his face pale and sweating, his right hand clutching his left side. He took a few ragged breaths. “I think . . . I think so.”

Angelica swooned, grappling for the cash desk.

As Brian turned to look, Tricia leaped forward. “Ginny, call nine-one-one!” she yelled, and lunged at Brian, knocking the gun from his hand.

It skittered across the carpet. Tricia, Ginny, and Brian all dived after it, scrambling across the floor on their hands and knees, and into the nook. Three hands snatched at it, and the gun was pushed under one of the heavy upholstered chairs.

“Get away! Get away!” Brian shouted.

“Not on your life,” Tricia grated.

Their hands knocked against each other as they fumbled for the gun, but it was Tricia who came up with it. She rolled onto her backside, the gun clasped in both hands, and leveled it at Brian’s chest, the way she’d seen in a hundred TV shows.

He struggled to his knees and laughed at her. “You won’t shoot.”

Her eyes blazed. “Wanna bet?”

“Angelica, call nine-one-one!” Ginny yelled.

The sound of a siren cut the air.

“I did that before I got here,” Angelica said with a smirk.

Ginny pulled herself up with the aid of the chair’s arm. “You could’ve said so.”

“And let this bozo know it? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Brian. Also a pretty clever ruse—me pretending to faint, huh?”

No one commented.

Brian sat in a heap, looking boneless. Joe had been right: life as Brian knew it was now over. The same could be said for Eugenia, too.

The Sheriff’s Department cruiser screeched to a halt in front of Haven’t Got a Clue, and Captain Baker and Deputy Placer spilled from the car. Placer kicked in the door and they sprang inside, their weapons drawn. Baker took in the scene before him: Eugenia crying, Joe bleeding, Angelica and Ginny standing guard, Tricia still flat on her butt on the floor, clutching the gun.

“What the hell?” Baker asked.

“Show’s over, guys,” Tricia said. “But you’re more than welcome to take over.”

Baker holstered his weapon while Placer kept his trained on Brian.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked Tricia, offering his hand.

She looked up into those mesmerizing green eyes. “Taking care of business.” Her grip slackened and she handed him the gun, handle first. Then he helped her up.

She grabbed Baker’s tie, pulling him close, leaned forward, and kissed him hard on the mouth, then pulled back. “You are not Christopher, and you’re definitely not Russ,” she declared.

Startled, Baker stared at her in incomprehension. “What?”

“I just wanted to establish that from the get-go.”

“Whatever,” he said, a flush coloring his cheeks, and he removed her hand from his tie. He cleared his throat. Everyone was looking at the two of them.

It was Tricia’s turn to blush.

“Now, then—what the hell has been going on?”

“I think I’ll put the coffeepot back on,” Ginny said wearily. “This is going to take a lot of explaining.”

TWENTY-TWO

It seemed
like hours later that the ambulance bearing Joe Hirt took off, heading for St. Joseph’s Hospital in Milford. The EMTs didn’t think he needed more than a bandage and a tetanus shot.

Eugenia had been devastated when Captain Baker slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. She cried, begging to accompany her father to the hospital, but ended up in the back of the same patrol car as Brian, on her way to the county lockup. Someone needed to call Libby and explain what had happened. Tricia didn’t envy whoever ended up with that job.

Apparently Brian had learned from the mysteries Ginny had been reading that the best thing he could do was to keep his mouth shut until he could talk to a lawyer. “You’re not paying for one with
my
money,” Ginny declared.

Captain Baker had been all business as he rounded up the suspects, although he’d tried hard—and succeeded—not to make eye contact with Tricia.

Oh, well.

Once the cops and the rubberneckers had departed, Tricia, Angelica, and Ginny settled in the readers’ nook. Tricia had scrounged a bottle of Irish whiskey, which they’d been adding to their coffee. Since it was a girls-only gathering, Miss Marple had deigned to join them, and had settled on a pile of old
Mystery Scene
magazines on the big square coffee table.

“There are no good men left on the face of the planet,” Ginny complained, and swallowed another big gulp from her cup.

“Sure there are,” Tricia said.

“Name one.”

“Mr. Everett.”

“Yeah, and he’s already taken. Plus he’s old enough to be
your
grandfather.”

“Nevertheless, I haven’t given up hope.”

“Don’t forget Bob,” Angelica said with a wistful sigh. “He’s a real gem.”

If she only knew
, Tricia thought.

“How can you be so optimistic?” Ginny said, squinting at Tricia. “Russ just dumped you—what a jerk!”

“Oh, Russ was just a rebound boy after Tricia’s divorce,” Angelica explained. “A nice little diversion, but I’ll bet now she’s ready for something a bit more exciting.”

“We won’t go into all that.”

“No need to,” Angelica piped up. “That was some smooch you gave Captain Baker. See, I told you you were sweet on him.”

“It was a stupid, impulsive thing to do,” Tricia said, embarrassed. “I was just grateful he arrived when he did. I really wasn’t sure Brian would believe my bluff.”

“Uh-huh,” Angelica said knowingly.

“You should’ve shot him,” Ginny growled. “Did you see the way Eugenia carried on when they hauled them both away?” She frowned. “On second thought, you should’ve shot her, too.”

“You know that’s the whiskey talking—not the way you really feel,” Tricia said.

“No, I wish you’d shot him.” Ginny thought about it. “Okay, maybe not to
kill
, but you should’ve shot him anyway.” She paused. “In the butt. Twice—once in each cheek.”

“I’m just glad we’re all safe,” Angelica said. “But there are things that need to be settled.”

Yes, several big things. Like the mess that was now Ginny’s life.

“That poor Libby Hirt,” Angelica said with a sigh. “Her husband shot. Her daughter arrested and in love with a murderer . . .”