The phone clicked in her ear. “Ms. Miles? This is Artemus Hamilton. Thank you for calling.”
The man himself. No doubt he’d received some crank calls, or possibly had been hounded by the press since Zoë’s death and found it necessary to screen his calls. Or perhaps his assistant was out to lunch and he was monitoring his own phone.
“I don’t suppose you remember me, Mr. Hamilton. We met several years ago at one of Sylvia Cranston’s parties.”
“Sorry. I meet a lot of people.” Oh, well. That was no doubt true. “What were you saying about a memorial service?”
“Since Zoë was a longtime resident of Stoneham, we naturally want to honor her. We hope you and some of Zoë’s other colleagues could join us on Saturday for a memorial service.”
“That’s odd. I spoke with Zoë’s niece this morning, and she said nothing about a memorial service.”
“I’m sure at the time she wasn’t aware of the Chamber of Commerce’s plans. You know Kimberly Peters?”
“Yes, of course. I had dinner with Zoë and Kimberly on a number of occasions. Delightful young woman.” He must’ve seen a side of Kimberly she hadn’t bothered to show to the citizens of Stoneham. “What time is the ceremony?” he asked.
“Eleven o’clock. It’ll be outside, as there’s also a statue dedication.”
“How on earth did you get a statue of Zoë made so quickly?”
“It’s actually a statue of a . . . a book.” Boy, that sounded lame.
“A book?” he repeated in disbelief.
“Yes. It’s really very nice,” she lied. She hadn’t actually seen it. “It’s a big block of white marble with an opened stone book on the top.” She flinched at her own words. It sounded ridiculous even to her.
“Eleven’s rather early to come up from New York. Perhaps I should arrive the night before. Is there anywhere decent to stay in Stoneham?”
“I can recommend the Brookview Inn.”
“Can you e-mail me the particulars? I’ll have my assistant book me a room as soon as she comes back from lunch.”
“Fine.”
“Where can I reach you in case I need to call?”
Tricia gave him Angelica’s number and that of her cell phone. “We’d also like to invite Zoë’s editor. Would you be willing to share that number, or would you talk to him or her and have them contact me?”
“I’ll speak to him, and if he’s interested he can get in touch with you. Thank you again for the invitation. I’ll be in touch,” Hamilton said and ended the call.
Tricia got her facts together concerning the inn and e-mailed Hamilton’s office, then checked that her phone was fully charged before heading down to the Cookery, where she found an impatient Ginny waiting for her.
“Oh, good. You’re back,” Ginny said, and glanced over her shoulder to see if Angelica was close by and listening in. “Whatever you said to Angelica must’ve worked. She’s hardly yelled at us at all today. Makes me wonder when I’ll feel the stab of pain in my back when she reverts to type.”
“Ginny,” Tricia chided.
“Oh, sorry,” Ginny hastily apologized. “I keep forgetting she’s your sister. Anyway, while there’s a lull, we’d better go over the plans for Saturday. Did you know they were changing the focus of the celebration?”
“Yes. I’ve already talked to Bob Kelly about it, and he asked me to invite some of Zoë’s colleagues. Her agent will be here on Saturday, possibly her editor as well. I’m waiting to hear.”
“That’s great. Several members of the Tuesday Night Book Club have stopped by or called to ask if we should do something special in honor of Zoë.”
“You mean like flowers or something?”
She nodded. “They’re taking up a collection and thought it would be a nice touch, since most of them were among the last people to see her alive.”
And Tricia had been the one to find her dead. She gave a little shudder and tried not to think about it.
“On our end,” Ginny continued, “Mr. Everett managed to snag the UPS man and signed for the books for the dedication on Saturday. So at least we can set up shop and get a little income for the week.”
Tricia glanced around the store, spotted Mr. Everett speaking with a customer, and smiled. “I am so proud of you two. You’ve made this whole unpleasant situation much easier to take.”
“Thanks, Tricia. It’s nice to hear a kind word.” Ginny leveled a pointed glance at Angelica’s back.
“Has the sheriff or her team been anywhere near Haven’t Got a Clue today?” Tricia asked.
Ginny shook her head. “It doesn’t seem like she’s doing much in the way of investigating, as far as I can see, so why won’t she let us reopen?”
“Pure and plain nastiness.”
“Speaking of which,” Ginny said, lowering her voice, her gaze wandering to a disapproving Angelica, who waited on a customer at the register. “Did you know Angelica threw away all of the gorgeous cookies Nikki sent over yesterday?”
Tricia frowned. “Why?”
“I think she was jealous. She said she wasn’t going to serve someone else’s products in her store.”
Angelica had made that perfectly clear the day before.
“Well, they weren’t sent here to be served in her store,” Tricia said testily. “They were sent to me.”
Ginny giggled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I grabbed a few before she tossed them in the Dumpster out back. I wrapped them up for later. Do you want a couple?”
Tricia sighed. “With everything that’s been going on, I’ve kind of lost my appetite. You enjoy.”
Ginny nodded. “So how are your inquiries going?”
Tricia looked around the shop, making sure no customers were in listening range. “Don’t say a word, because I have no proof . . . but several people I’ve talked to don’t think Zoë was the author of the Jess and Addie Forever series.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “That’s very interesting. And certainly a motive for murder.”
“Exactly.”
“Any hints on who did write them?” she asked, eagerly.
Tricia shook her head. “Uh-uh. Not until I have more information.”
“Darn! Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Thanks, but no. In the meantime, I need to talk to Kimberly again. To see if I can pin her down.” Tricia remembered what Frannie had said about Deborah and Kimberly possibly being classmates. Deborah and Ginny both had long hair. Could she have gotten them mixed up? “You weren’t in high school with Kimberly, were you?”
Ginny nodded. “But I didn’t know her. She was a senior when I was a freshman—a much lower form of life. Eventually we all knew her by reputation, as the class slut.”
Which supported what Lois Kerr had said. “Do you think any of her friends still live in Stoneham?”
“What friends? She slept with every decent-looking guy in the school. Not many of the girls would even talk to her.”
How sad. Did she act out just to get attention—attention she didn’t receive from Zoë?
“I’d like to call her, but of course Zoë’s phone number is unlisted, and all my contact information is locked up inside Haven’t Got a Clue.”
Ginny pulled a little notebook out of her Cookery apron pocket. Tricia recognized it as one she usually carried in her Haven’t Got a Clue apron. “I’ve got Zoë’s Stoneham number. Why don’t you call Kimberly now?”
Tricia smiled. “Remember that bonus I mentioned earlier? It just got bigger.”
Ginny positively beamed.
Nine
Tricia was glad Kimberly answered the phone after only two rings, though she quickly made it clear she had no desire to discuss her aunt. That is, until Tricia suggested they meet for dinner; then suddenly Kimberly was only too happy to oblige. They made plans to meet at the Bookshelf Diner at seven.