Tricia gave her sister a sincere smile. “Yes, Ange, I would.”
The phone rang the whole next day, and tour buses disgorged hundreds of tourists looking for bargains, rare books, and the volumes missing from their personal libraries. Haven’t Got a Clue hadn’t been this busy since the week before Christmas. Even the weather had seemed to break, bringing warmer temperatures and a flood of customers.
Besides being kept busy by the minutiae of running her own business, when others weren’t on the phone to Tricia, she was on the phone contacting the players for the little drama she expected to produce that night. Only Sheriff Adams balked at the idea. It was time to implement Plan B.
Back in her loft apartment, Tricia dialed Grace Harris’s number, crossing her fingers that she’d find Mr. Everett’s companion at home.
“Hello?” Grace answered.
“It’s Tricia Miles. I’ve got two reasons for calling. First, I’ve had to cancel tonight’s meeting.”
“Oh, and I was so looking forward to it.”
“I’m a little pressed for time, so I’ll let Mr. Everett explain everything.”
“Secrets?” Grace said thoughtfully.
“For the time being.”
“Just like a good mystery. I shall look forward to seeing William tonight. But what’s your other reason for calling?”
“As I think you’re aware, Sheriff Adams and I aren’t the best of friends.”
Grace laughed. “I think the entire village knows that.”
“You, on the other hand have a lot of clout in this town. I need to get the sheriff to come to my store at six p.m.”
“Does this have anything to do with Zoe Carter’s death?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Will the sheriff be making an arrest?”
“If someone can persuade her to come. The problem is, she’s already rebuffed my invitation to join us. She wasn’t happy last fall when I tried to point her in the direction of Doris Gleason’s killer, and she isn’t open to my suggestions now, either.”
“I’ll do my best to persuade her, and get back to you after I speak with her.”
“Thank you, Grace. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“Dear, it doesn’t begin to repay you for what you did for me last fall. I’ll call you as soon as I speak to her.”
“Thank you, Grace. Good-bye.”
Tricia was getting more antsy by the minute. At almost three o’clock, when she could stand the inactivity no longer, she grabbed her coat and escaped the shop, heading for the Chamber of Commerce. This mission was too important to accomplish via telephone.
As usual, Frannie was on the phone when she arrived. She waved a less-than-cheerful hello and continued talking, her voice lower, less boisterous than usual. In fact, she almost sounded depressed—something Tricia hadn’t thought Frannie was capable of.
Knowing this might take time, Tricia wandered into the cabin’s main room, bypassing the free coffee and heading for the brochure rack. As Russ had mentioned, in addition to tourist material covering the bulk of southern New Hampshire, Tricia found a folder for the local group health insurance plans. She glanced through it before pocketing it for Angelica. On impulse, she grabbed one for herself, too.
At last, Frannie hung up the phone. “What brings you out to visit during work hours?”
“I had an errand to run,” Tricia lied, “and thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. You’re the last one on my list.”
“List?”
“Of members. I wanted to personally let you know that I had to cancel the book club meeting for tonight.”
“Oh, and I was so looking forward to it. I thought it might be good for all of us to get together to, you know, kind of heal after what happened last week. But maybe it’s better for us to just take a break. Has something come up?”
“Yes. I’ve already spoken to everyone else to let them know.”
“And?”
“And?” Tricia echoed.
“What came up?”
“Oh. Well . . .” Her mind scrambled. “It’s . . . it’s Angelica. She’s had such a hard time keeping workers that she’s fallen terribly far behind in her paperwork. I felt so bad for her I volunteered to help her out this evening—what with it being early closing and everything.”
“That is so sweet of you.”
Tricia nodded. “Well, that’s what being a sister is all about.”
Frannie sighed. “I just had the best time helping Angelica out on Sunday. I wish I could do it again.”
“Oh? I thought she said you’d be coming back next weekend.”
“I’d love to, but Bob won’t let me.”
“He won’t let—why?”
“He doesn’t think it looks good for the Chamber’s only paid employee to be moonlighting at a second job.”
“But helping Ange isn’t like a real job. It’s helping out. Okay, so maybe she paid you—she did pay you, didn’t she?”
“Oh, yes. And very well, too.”
“But that isn’t a regular job.”
“According to Bob it is.”
“But he knows how swamped she is. How could he begrudge you helping out his girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. I’ve known Bob for over a decade, and I’ve never seen him so angry.” Her lip trembled. “It really hurt my feelings.”
“I don’t blame you for being so upset,” Tricia said. “Does Angelica know about this?”
“I didn’t think it was my place to say anything. But I do need to let her know I can’t help her out this weekend. And I was so looking forward to it.”
“Do you mind if I speak to Bob?”
“That’s up to you. But don’t be surprised if he reams your ears out good, too.”
He’d better not, Tricia thought.
Frannie let out a breath and straightened. “I’d best get back to work. I don’t want Bob angry with me if I don’t get the monthly flyers folded, stuffed, stamped, and to the post office before the end of the day.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
Frannie sniffed, and for a moment Tricia thought she might cry. She reached out and gave her friend a hug. “It’ll work out,” she said.
“I hope so,” Frannie said, and pulled back from the embrace. “Until yesterday, I loved my job. I hope I can feel good about it again in a week or so.” She turned back to her desk.
Tricia left the Chamber office and marched next door to the Kelly Real Estate office. By the time she yanked open the door, steam threatened to escape from her ears.
Bob sat at his cluttered desk. He looked up at her entry and smiled. “Hey, Tricia, I was just about to call you on—”
“What have you done to poor Frannie?” she demanded, cutting him off.
“Done?” he asked, and stood, his plastered-on grin faltering.
“Yes, I just spoke to her, and she said she’d gotten in trouble for working at the Cookery on Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it looks bad for the Chamber.”
“How?”
“Frannie is the public face of the Chamber. She gets paid a decent salary to work for us.”
“Minimum wage?”
“No. We pay her better than that. A bit better.”
“A bit better? What does that mean?”
“Two dollars an hour over minimum wage.”
“And you expect her to live on that? I’m surprised she hasn’t had to find a second job before now. Oh, wait, you’d probably fire her if she did.”
“Now, Tricia, she gets health care benefits, too.”
“And how much does she have to pay toward that?”
“Fifty percent.”
“Fifty percent?” she repeated, hardly believing what she’d just heard. “On two dollars an hour over minimum wage?”
“There aren’t that many clerical jobs in Stoneham. Frannie’s lucky to be with us. She’s only got a high school diploma, you know.”
“Doesn’t ten years of experience with the Chamber count for anything?”
Bob shook his head, his expression insufferably patient, as if he was about to speak to someone with a low IQ.
“We’re paying a wage commensurate with her education and comparable jobs within the community.”
“Then obviously the community isn’t paying its female workers a living wage.”