“The EMTs will be there in no time. Do you want to hang on until they come?”
“No. I’d better call his wife,” Tricia said, and ended the call. She didn’t want to wait for the incredibly slow phone to make the connection, so she took her cell phone from her coat pocket and punched in the number.
“Everett Charity Foundation. This is Pixie. How can I help you?”
“Hi. This is Tricia Miles-” But before she could say anymore, Tricia heard a click in her ear and then nothing. “Hello? Hello?”
She dialed again. “Everett Charity Foundation.”
“Pixie, this is Tricia Miles. I must speak to Grace immediately, it’s an em-”
“Sorry, bitch. You got around me this morning, but you’re not getting through to the boss now. I don’t care what your excuse is. You crossed me. I got in trouble. Now you’re dead to me. Good-bye.”
Again the line went dead.
Tricia dialed again, but this time Pixie didn’t pick up. She probably had caller ID.
The sound of sirens broke the relative quiet of Main Street and a fire rescue truck pulled up across the street. Tricia hurried to the door to open it for them just as an ambulance pulled up in front of Haven’t Got a Clue. The EMTs tumbled out of the van and collected their gear. Tricia held the door open for them to enter, and Linda waved them to the reader’s nook.
Tricia stood back as the EMTs asked Mr. Everett a series of questions, which he answered. He was starting to look scared-as scared as Tricia felt.
He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, she kept repeating to herself.
“Were you able to get hold of his wife?” Linda whispered.
Tricia shook her head. “She’s right across the street. I should go over there right now and holler through the door.” At Linda’s puzzled look, she explained about Pixie.
One of the EMTs joined them. “We’re going to transport him to St. Joseph Hospital in Milford-just to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll try to find his wife and follow in my own car.”
The EMT nodded and headed out the door.
“I’m going across the street to get Grace. I’ll be right back,” Tricia told Linda, and headed out the door. The EMT was removing a gurney from the back of the ambulance as Tricia left the store. She looked up and saw Pixie looking down at the street, probably alerted by the flashing lights. When she saw Tricia looking at her, she turned away.
Tricia frowned and hurried across the street. She entered the building and practically ran up the stairs to the second-floor office, but when she reached for the door, she found it locked.
“Pixie, open up! I must speak to Grace.”
Suddenly she heard a blast of music shake the walls and door.
“Open up!” she demanded, but the decibels only cranked higher.
Giving the door one good kick, she turned and hurried back down the stairs. She made it to the street just as they were loading Mr. Everett into the back of the ambulance. She hurried to catch up and the EMTs paused to let her speak to him.
“I haven’t found Grace yet, but I’ll keep trying.”
“Will you come with me?” he asked, sounding frightened. He reached for her hand, and she captured it. “Yes. I’ll grab my purse and I’ll follow the ambulance. I’ll see you there.”
The EMTs gently removed his hand from hers, loaded him in, and closed the doors.
Tricia hurried back to Haven’t Got a Clue.
“I’ve got to go with him,” she told Linda.
“What do we do about the store?”
“Can you lock up at closing?”
“Yes, of course. You can count on me.”
Tricia went behind the register and grabbed her purse. Tucked in the inside pocket was the key she had once given to Ginny. She handed it to Linda. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Could you give Miss Marple some cat snacks before you leave? There’s a bag under the counter at the beverage station.”
“Of course. Now go. Mr. Everett needs you,” she said, giving Tricia a hopeful smile.
And out the door Tricia flew, just as the ambulance took off. She looked up at the windows of the Everett Charitable Foundation, but this time she did not see Pixie. And though she couldn’t hear the booming music, she could almost swear she heard the sound of mocking laughter.
EIGHTEEN
It was long past dark by the time Tricia let herself into Haven’t Got a Clue and instantly heard a plaintive brrrpt! Miss Marple loped across the darkened store to meet her. The cat twined between Tricia’s legs, scolding her for nondelivery of her dinner. According to the clock on the wall, Miss Marple should have been fed two hours before.
“I’m sorry, my pet, but you wouldn’t have wanted me to leave Mr. Everett alone at the hospital until I was sure he’d be okay, would you?”
Miss Marple gave an understanding “Yow.”
Tricia picked up the cat and started toward the stairs to her loft apartment. She could always use the lint brush to remove any lingering cat hairs. But she stopped when she heard the sound of angry pounding on the store’s front door. She turned. “What the heck?”
Miss Marple reminded her that she was very, very hungry with a strident “Yow,” but Tricia put the cat down and warily approached the door-after all, there was a murderer on the loose in Stoneham. But as she peeked through the slats in the blind, she saw that it was Grace Harris-Everett who stood behind the door.
Tricia quickly unlocked the door and opened it. “Grace, what on earth are you doing he-”
“Where is William?” she demanded and pushed her way into the store.
“I tried to call you numerous times. I left instructions with my new assistant manager, Linda, to try to get in touch with you, too.”
“About what?” Grace snapped.
“Grace, Mr. Everett is at St. Joseph Hospital in Milford. He was pale and sweaty and couldn’t catch his breath. I thought he might be having a heart attack, so I called 911. I tried to call you even before the ambulance arrived-”
“Ambulance!” Grace cried, terrified.
“But Pixie hung up on me. I called back and she told me off-called me a bitch who’d crossed her because I’d gotten in to see you today.”
“I don’t care about any of that-please!-tell me what’s happened to my husband.”
“He’s okay-stable. The doctors don’t think he suffered a heart attack-”
“Good Lord,” Grace cried, and for a moment Tricia thought she might faint. She grabbed the woman’s arm to steady her and led her to a chair in the readers’ nook.
Grace fell into her seat, hunched over, and began to sob, while Tricia stood over her fighting her own tears. “He’ll be okay, Grace. But he’d really like to have you by his side. He thinks-” She paused, unsure how to continue. “He’s feeling a little unloved right now. He feels you’ve become obsessed with the charity to the extent that you’ve forgotten about your life together.”
If anything, Grace just cried harder.
“I know you want to give Pixie a chance, but she’s so protective of you she kept both Linda and me from communicating with you when you were needed most.”
Grace struggled to compose herself. “She needed a second chance.”
“And she probably deserves it. But her gifts might not include dealing with the public. I know there are people out there who will try to abuse you and the charity, but being civil has to be a prerequisite and I’m afraid right now Pixie doesn’t seem capable.”
“I’ll fire her tomorrow,” Grace said with yet another sob.
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. Why not train her to learn the difference between scammers and those who are sincere in their need-as well as those who can benefit the charity? You’ve got a big heart, Grace. Use this experience as a teaching moment for Pixie. Maybe this is something the charity can do for others, too. Not just job training, but life training for people who never had the opportunity to learn those skills.”