“Perhaps it could bring you all closer together.”
“Or it could destroy our family.”
“Everyone seems to forget that Pammy Fredericks was murdered.”
“Maybe she deserved it,” Libby said bitterly. “Blackmail is an ugly game. Would she have bled Joe dry? And what about Mr. Paige?”
“Libby, I know you’re upset and you don’t mean what you just said.”
“And just maybe I do.”
She broke the connection.
Tricia hung up the phone. Was there something in the Stoneham water supply causing relationships to crash and burn? First she and Russ; Ginny and Brian might be on the skids; and now Libby and Joe Hirt-who, until yesterday, had apparently represented the village’s most stable marriage.
And what was she going to tell Captain Baker, now that she’d spoken to yet another member of the Hirt family? There was no way she could set foot inside the Bookshelf Diner-and run into Eugenia-until this whole mess was resolved. In fact, if she was smart, she wouldn’t step outside Haven’t Got a Clue.
She forced herself to think about other things. With the wedding set for the next day, she had too much to do. The store needed a thorough cleaning. Although it was last minute, perhaps she should hire a cleaning team to come in-but did cleaners work Saturday evenings? What if she couldn’t engage someone to come after store hours? And had anyone thought to rent chairs for the reception? Or maybe tall tables, so the guests had somewhere to park their plates of breakfast foods, champagne, and cake while they ate? She’d have to ask Angelica.
With less than sixteen hours to go, Grace and Mr. Everett’s wedding seemed so far away-so normal and life-affirming. And Pammy was still-and forever would be-dead. Although she’d been on the outs with her family for years, it seemed doubly cruel they should decide not to claim her body. There’d be no commemoration of her life. And if Tricia took it upon herself to arrange one, would anyone show up?
Pammy had been shy and awkward when they’d met twenty-four years ago. She’d been shrewd and apparently heartless the last time they’d spoken. And she’d accused Tricia of not knowing how to have any fun. But was fun at someone else’s expense enjoyable, or just spite?
Tricia preferred to think the latter.
Pammy was dead and, as far as Tricia knew, no one-and she would have to include herself-would mourn her.
A truly wasted life.
Though she had too many other phone calls to make, on impulse Tricia hauled out the phone book and called the Hillsborough County Medical Examiner’s office. Maybe Pammy’s family had reconsidered. Maybe plans were already in place for some kind of service, and no one had thought to call her. However, the person she spoke with at the ME’s office only reaffirmed what she’d already been told by Captain Baker.
“What does that mean?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Eventually, the body will be buried at taxpayers’ expense.”
“Thank you.” Tricia hung up the phone.
Buried in an unmarked grave. Did anyone deserve that?
Several customers entered the store. Tricia waited on them, all the while thinking of the phone calls she needed to make to ensure the wedding went off without a hitch. It was time to put Pammy out of her mind… forever.
Still, until her killer was caught, Tricia wasn’t sure she could do that.
Everything felt unfinished. Like Pammy’s life.
And Tricia hated that feeling of helplessness.
TWENTY-ONE
Tricia couldn’t remember a day that wore on as long as that particular Saturday. The Milford Pumpkin Festival really had cut into business. The few customers she’d had that afternoon had regaled her with tales of the Great Pumpkin contest, the pumpkin catapult, the chili roundup, and the scarecrow contest. And oh, the food!
Rats, Tricia thought. Maybe Pammy was right. I always miss out on the fun.
Eleanor had indeed won first prize in the pie contest-Frannie had called back with that update. No doubt the blue ribbon would be framed and hung over her receptionist’s desk at the Brookview Inn by the next morning.
Grace had called with an update about the wedding flowers, thanking Tricia profusely once again for letting them hold the ceremony in the store, and promised she would arrive early the next morning to help coordinate the last-minute details.
The thing Tricia hadn’t been able to accomplish was hiring a cleaning firm. That meant the job was up to her. Oh, well… she tried to think of it as part of her gift to Grace and Mr. Everett. With Mr. Everett in short supply these last few days, the place had become dusty, so she commandeered his lamb’s wool duster and started working on the shelves.
It was ten minutes until closing. Haven’t Got a Clue had had no customers for at least twenty minutes when Tricia glanced at her watch. “Don’t you just hate this time of year?” she asked Ginny.
“Yes. When the sun goes down, it’s like the whole world closes up.”
“I’ve been thinking of adopting winter hours-except between Thanksgiving and Christmas, of course.”
“I would hate to see my hours cut, but you have to do what’s best for the store,” Ginny said sensibly. “Besides, it would give me more time to work on the house. I have this vision of the living room being finished in time for Christmas. I can already imagine a crackling fire in the fireplace, and our stockings hanging from the mantel. That is, if I can find someone to tell me the chimney is safe enough to light a fire.”
Tricia laughed. “We’ll stay open until seven tonight, but depending on how trade is on Monday, we might as well adopt new hours.”
“What about the Tuesday Night Book Club?”
Tricia shrugged. “We might have to start an hour earlier. Hey, dinner at a decent hour. Now there’s a plan.”
Ginny laughed and began her end-of-day chores, emptying the coffeemaker’s filter of grounds, and pouring the last of the coffee down the washroom sink. She was still in the back of the store when the door opened. Eugenia Hirt entered Haven’t Got a Clue, her face dark with anger. “What’s going on, Tricia?”
Tricia had been counting out the day’s receipts, and closed the register’s cash drawer. “I’m not supposed to speak to you or anyone in your family. Direct orders from Captain Baker of the Sheriff’s Department.”
“That’s what my mother said. But something’s going on, and nobody will tell me what it is. Everyone seems to think you know.”
“Captain Baker said-”
“I don’t give a damn what any sheriff’s deputy said. You know, and you will tell me!”
“Are you threatening me?” Tricia asked.
Eugenia threw back her head, standing taller. “Maybe I am.”
Tricia tried not to laugh. “Go home.” She had to fight the urge to say little girl. “Your mother is very upset. See if you can make her feel better.”
“Not until you tell me what was in that diary.”
So, she knew about Pammy’s diary. Had Pammy said something, or had she heard her parents arguing about it?
Before Tricia could answer the girl, the shop door flew open. Eugenia whirled. “Dad! What are you doing here?”
“Come on, honey. Let’s go home.”
Eugenia shook her head. “I’m not leaving until someone gives me some answers.”
Ginny reappeared from behind a set of shelves. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Tricia and Joe said in unison.
“Ginny, why don’t you go home?” Joe suggested.
Ginny’s face flushed. “Why?”
“Because it looks like Tricia, Eugenia, and I have some serious things to discuss. Things that you don’t need to be a part of.”
Ginny moved to stand next to Tricia. “I don’t think so.”
Tricia was grateful for the support, but her tightening stomach told her that Ginny might be safer if she left the store-now. “Maybe he’s right, Ginny. I think you should-”