“What do you mean?”
“Well, say it was somebody from Nigela Ricita Associates.”
“There’s only one person in Stoneham who works for them.”
“Two,” Frannie corrected. “You’re forgetting that woman who’s going to run the Dog-Eared Page.”
“You think Michele Fowler killed Pippa Comfort?” Tricia asked in disbelief.
“I didn’t say that. I was just wondering. Of course, what if it’s that charming young man of Ginny’s?”
“That’s just as terrible a thing to suggest. And what motive would either have for killing Pippa, anyway?”
Again Frannie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they decided the inn wasn’t a good investment for their development company. Maybe they wanted to get out of the deal.”
“That’s ridiculous. Nigela Ricita Associates might be moving fast to accumulate properties here in Stoneham, but everything they’ve done has benefited the village.” Tricia realized she was defending the company-something she hadn’t done before. Maybe because Angelica was now involved, and she didn’t want gossip to taint her sister’s reputation-especially when it came from Angelica’s own employee. Of course, there was a good chance Frannie didn’t know Angelica had a share in the inn. But that knowledge was sure to become commonplace in the not-too-distant future. Still, if Angelica wanted Frannie to know about it, she could tell her herself.
“Who else is on your list of suspects?”
“I should be asking you that question,” Frannie said. “After all, it was you who found the body.”
“I haven’t given it any thought,” Tricia said.
“It’s gotta be a man, and the motive had to be jealousy. That leaves three suspects: the victim’s husband, Chauncey Porter, and Clayton Ellington. They all knew her-and more than one if not all of them-biblically, if you catch my drift.”
Tricia glanced up at the clock. “Oh, look at the time. I’m sure Angelica must need you back at the Cookery, and I have an important phone call I have to make.”
“You don’t have to chase me out. I was just about to leave,” Frannie said, not so graciously.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I’m just so preoccupied, what with being here on my own this morning.” Oops. That wasn’t a good revelation. But Frannie didn’t seem to pick up on it, and she let it drop.
“Okay. I’ll be seeing you, Tricia. Have a good day.”
“You, too.” Tricia said, and made to pick up the phone. She started to dial, but when the door closed on Frannie’s back, she put the receiver back down. She had always liked Frannie, but these past few days she found herself hard-pressed to remember why.
Eleven o’clock finally came and went and still Tricia had not heard from Linda. It was with a heavy heart that she picked up the phone for real and dialed the direct number for the Stoneham police instead of 911. This wasn’t an emergency, after all.
“Our officers are all tied up right now”-dealing with real crime, the dispatcher’s voice seemed to hint-“but we’ll send somebody over in the next couple of hours to take a report.”
“That’ll be fine. Thank you,” Tricia said and hung up the phone.
Therefore, she was surprised when ten minutes later Grant Baker’s familiar SUV pulled up outside Haven’t Got a Clue.
“Will there ever be a day when you don’t find yourself mixed up in some kind of trouble?” Baker asked upon entering the store.
“Good morning to you, too. Isn’t a shop owner supposed to call the police when she’s been robbed?”
“Robbed of what?”
“Yesterday’s receipts.”
“And how much was that?”
“I’m not quite sure. Now that you mention it, I forgot to run the receipts from the register.”
Baker sighed. Heavily. “Do you keep calling the police just to see me?”
“My, don’t you have an inflated ego.”
“And just who robbed you?”
“My new hire. Her name is Linda Fugitt. At least that’s what she said her name was.”
“How long has she worked for you?”
Tricia felt a blush creep up her neck to stain her cheeks. “A day and a half.”
“And did she break in?”
“No. I…left her here in charge of the store.”
“You left a person you barely know in your store with an open register?”
“I thought Mr. Everett had had a heart attack. I couldn’t get hold of his wife. I had to go to the hospital until I was sure he was okay.”
“And you left this woman alone in the store?”
Tricia hung her head, feeling like a scolded child. “Yes.”
“Did she fill out any paperwork?”
“I tried the number she wrote on her application, but it’s been disconnected.”
Boy, did that sound bad.
“And you left a near-perfect stranger-with a bad phone number-alone in your store with an open register.”
“Will you stop saying that? At the time it seemed a perfectly sensible thing to do.”
Baker did not look convinced. “All right. I’ll write up a report and we’ll try to see if we can track this Fugitt woman down. If that’s her real name. Of course you realize the Stoneham police are very busy right now.”
“Yes. You’ve got a murder to solve. Quite frankly, I’m surprised the dispatcher sent you yet again.”
“I heard the address on the scanner and I-”
“Took it upon yourself to investigate? Are you sure you don’t keep showing up here just to see me?”
It was Baker’s turn to blush.
The door rattled and the little bell chimed as a breathless Linda burst into the store.
“Oh, Tricia, I’m so sorry I’m late, but my car wouldn’t start and my phone is out of order and I had to cancel my cell phone after my unemployment ran out and you can’t find a pay phone anywhere these days, and I figured you’d be worried since I didn’t know what to do with the money from the register, which I took home with me, and I knew you’d need change this morning and-” She finally ran out of breath as she opened her purse and took out the missing bank pouch. As she went to hand it to Tricia, she suddenly seemed to recognize that it was a uniformed policeman who stood in front of the register.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is everything okay? Did something else happen since I closed last night?”
“Um…no,” Tricia said. She indicated Baker. “The chief and I are friends. He just dropped by to say hello. Didn’t you, Grant?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree.
“Yes. Hello, Tricia,” Baker said in a clipped tone. “Well, I guess I’d better be off.”
“So soon?” Linda asked, and unbuttoned her coat.
“I’ve got an investigation to get back to.” He nodded at Tricia. “I’ll be seeing you.” It almost sounded like a threat.
Tricia watched him go as Linda headed toward the back of the store to hang up her coat. The SUV was pulling away from the curb when Linda returned, tying on a Haven’t Got a Clue apron.
“How’s Mr. Everett?” she asked.
Tricia busied herself at the cash desk, neatening a stack of unruly bookmarks. “I haven’t heard from him or Grace yet today, but he was released from the hospital early this morning.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been so worried. He really is a dear sweet man.”
“Thank you for opening the mail yesterday…”
“You’re welcome.”
“-but I really do prefer to do it myself.”
Linda looked unsure of herself. “Oh. Okay. My secretary used to do that for me and it seemed one less burden I had to tackle on any given day.”
“I do wish you’d left a note saying you’d taken the bank pouch,” Tricia said, finding it hard to keep the strain from her voice.
“But I did. It’s right-”
She looked at the shelf behind the register where Miss Marple lay curled up in a ball. “Oh. It’s not there. I put a Post-it note on Miss Marple’s shelf, thinking you’d see it right away. It must have fallen down.”