Ginny was waiting outside the door to Haven’t Got a Clue-on time for the first time in days. She held a bulky plastic bag and stamped her feet on the concrete, trying to keep warm. “I was beginning to wonder where you were,” she said by way of a greeting. “I didn’t see your car in the lot, and when I called your cell phone, there was no answer.”
Tricia sorted through her keys. “Sorry. I must have it turned off. I had some errands to run.” She unlocked the door and entered the store, with Ginny following close behind.
“Give me your coat and I’ll hang it up in back,” Ginny said.
As she straightened up the pile of bookmarks next to the register, Tricia wondered if she ought to call Captain Baker and tell him about the letter at the post office. She was sure to talk to him again sometime soon-maybe she’d just wait.
She tidied the stack of Haven’t Got a Clue shopping bags, and had run out of busywork by the time Ginny came back to the front of the store.
“What’s Mr. Everett’s schedule for the rest of the week?” Ginny asked.
“Coming and going, I’m afraid. There’s a lot to pull together fast if you’re planning an impromptu wedding.”
“Why don’t they just elope?” Ginny grumbled.
“I’m sure they feel this will be the last marriage for each of them. They want their friends to witness it, especially since they have no family.”
“I guess.”
Mr. Everett knew everyone in town. Would he have known Stuart Paige? Paige didn’t have a long history in Stoneham, but he was well known throughout the state. Still, Mr. Everett was the soul of discretion; he wouldn’t speak of Paige’s reckless past if he knew of it… but Frannie Armstrong might. Frannie was the eyes and ears of Stoneham -more so than even Ted Missile.
As it happened, Frannie chose that moment to walk past Haven’t Got a Clue on her way to the Cookery. In one hand she clutched her purse and a sack lunch; in the other, a bulky wire cage, no doubt the Havahart trap she’d spoken of the day before.
“Oh, look, Frannie’s struggling with that cage. She’s been trying to catch a stray cat. I think I’ll go help her.”
“I can do it,” Ginny volunteered.
“That’s okay,” Tricia said, hurrying around the register and heading for the exit. “Be right back.”
“Whatever,” Ginny said, as Tricia flew out the door.
She hurried down the sidewalk to catch up with Frannie. “Here, let me help you,” she said.
Frannie gratefully surrendered the cage. “Hi, Tricia. This thing isn’t heavy-at least it wasn’t for the first couple of blocks. But then it seemed like it weighed a ton.”
“Think you’ll catch Penny today?” Tricia asked as Frannie fumbled with her keys.
“I sure hope so. I hate to think of that poor little cat out in the cold at night. The weatherman says a cold snap is coming down from Canada in the next few days. We might even see a little snow.”
“Not until the leaves are past peak, I hope. I’m praying for an onslaught of tourists to arrive any day now.”
“I hope so, too. But then there’s the Milford Pumpkin Festival on the weekend, and Stoneham will be as quiet as a cemetery at midnight.” Frannie opened the door and Tricia followed her into the darkened store. In a moment, the lights were on and Frannie had removed her jacket. “Need any help setting up this cage?” Tricia asked.
“Thank you. I sure hope the first bus is late. Angelica won’t be pleased if I’m not ready to open right on time.” She glanced at the clock. “Which is in three minutes.”
“I can get things ready here at the register if you want to go load the trap and set it up outside.”
“Thanks, Tricia.”
“It’s my pleasure. I want to see little Penny go to her new home.”
Frannie paused. “I will put an ad in the News-just in case some poor child is missing her kitty. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I hope no one will claim her.”
Frannie had lived alone for a long time. She deserved a little feline pal. “Go on, set up the trap,” Tricia said, and gave her friend a smile.
A Granite State bus passed the store’s display window, heading for the municipal lot, where it would disgorge its load. Several customers had entered the store by the time Frannie made it back to the sales desk. She rubbed her hands gleefully. “By tonight I might have my very own kitty. I’ve never had a cat before. My family are all dog lovers, ya see. But I fell in love with your Miss Marple, and now I want one of my own.”
“I’ll cross my fingers for you.”
Frannie looked toward her customers and raised her voice. “Y’all just let me know if you need any help.” One of the women nodded and went back to her browsing.
“Frannie,” Tricia started, “you’ve been around these parts a lot longer than I have. What do you know about Stuart Paige?”
Frannie shrugged. “Just what I’ve read in the papers.”
That wasn’t what Tricia wanted to hear.
“Although,” Frannie added, almost as an afterthought, “it’s been said that he was a real womanizer when he was in his early twenties.”
Now that was more like it. “Oh?” Tricia prompted.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about that accident where he was driving his father’s Alfa Romeo, crashed it into Portsmouth Harbor, and some woman died.”
Why did everyone seem to remember the make of the car more than the name of the victim? “Yes, I did hear that.”
“Apparently she was the love of his life. When she died, he turned over a new leaf. Got religion, so to speak, although I don’t think he joined any official denomination. But he decided to change his ways and do good in the world.”
That sounded like a great plot for a 1950s movie. In fact it was… The Magnificent Obsession, with Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman. But did that sort of thing happen in the late 1980s? Tricia wasn’t so sure. As her grandmother often said, “A leopard doesn’t change its spots.” There had to be more to the story than that.
If Frannie didn’t know, then probably no one else in the village did.
Rats!
A customer ambled up to the register with several heavy volumes. Tricia wrapped the order while Frannie rang it up and made change. As soon as the woman turned her back on them and headed for the door, Frannie picked up where she left off. “I heard Mr. Paige has been staying at the Brookview Inn. In fact, he’s taken a room long term. They say he’s got some kind of business deal brewing. I’ll bet Bob Kelly knows about it.”
“And wouldn’t tell me if he did.”
“That’s true. Bob is very loyal to Chamber members.”
“But would Paige be a member? He doesn’t have a business, or even live here in Stoneham.”
“Yet,” Frannie added. “I wouldn’t know about new members since I left the Chamber. It’s always possible Mr. Paige’s cooking up something good for the village. Maybe he intends to help people who’ve lost their jobs. You know, open some kind of light manufacturing plant, or something. Bob was always trying to entice someone to locate a new business here.”
That was a possibility, Tricia supposed. Now, could she get past Paige’s keepers to talk to the man? “What do you know about his entourage?”
“I don’t think he’s got bodyguards, if that’s what you mean. But I know he travels with at least one or two people-one of them is a secretary or something. Keeps the riffraff from bothering him.”
Would Tricia be considered riffraff?
“I wonder if Eleanor could get me in to see him.” Tricia envisioned Eleanor at her reception desk at the Brookview Inn. Plump, and in her mid-sixties, she was the soul of the place. She made sure everyone who stayed there enjoyed his or her visit.
“What do you need to see Stuart Paige for?” Frannie asked.
Should she tell Frannie about Pammy trying to crash the Food Shelf’s dedication ceremony? Then again, Frannie probably knew all about it.