“I need your help,” Angelica said, her voice filled with drama. “Jake has taken off again, and I’ve got no one to help me, and-”
“Ange, I have a store to run-”
“Then can you loan me Ginny or Mr. Everett?”
“Mr. Everett has the afternoon off.”
“Again?” Angelica wailed.
“What do you need?” Tricia asked.
“I’ve got the kitchen back in shape for tomorrow’s lunch crowd, but I need help bringing my garbage over to the Cookery. Captain Baker took one of my garbage carts, and the other one is overflowing. I’ve got bags of trash I have to dump somewhere. I may even need to put some in your Dumpster. Will you help me, please?”
The last thing Tricia wanted to do was soil her pretty peach sweater set, but she couldn’t very well ask Ginny to ruin her clothes, either.
“I can give you ten minutes. No more.”
“That’s all I need. Now get over here, will you? I’ve got paperwork to finish over at the Cookery. Why I ever thought I could run two businesses at the same time…”
Tricia hung up the phone and shifted her gaze to her employee. Ginny didn’t look pleased.
“I’ve got to help Angelica with her trash problem,” she said, and forced a smile. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
Ginny folded her arms across her chest, but made no comment.
Tricia headed for the door without a backward glance. Why should she feel guilty? After all, they weren’t exactly inundated with customers, and Angelica was her sister. She was short-staffed and-
Why was she making excuses-if only to herself?
She crossed the street and found Angelica had piled several black plastic trash bags outside the door to Booked for Lunch, and was already locking the door for the day.
Tricia came to a halt at the edge of the pavement. “You needed help for four bags? Couldn’t you just make a couple of trips across the street by yourself?”
Angelica turned hard eyes on her sister. “Don’t start with me. I’ve had a rough day. You should wait on eighty-seven customers while wearing heels and no one to do food prep.”
“For heaven’s sake, buy some sensible shoes.”
“I don’t have time to buy new shoes. I don’t have time to scratch my-”
Tricia held up a hand to stave off the rest of that statement. “Never mind. I’ll grab two of these bags. You get the others.”
“Be careful, they’re heavy,” Angelica warned.
Tricia grabbed the first bag and nearly staggered under its weight. “What have you got in here? Lead?”
“I told you they were heavy. It’s paper, mostly. Napkins, milk shake cups, et cetera. And food waste.”
Tricia picked up the other bag, holding it at arm’s length, her muscles straining under the load. “Let’s hurry up. I’ve got my own end-of-day chores to do at Haven’t Got a Clue.”
The sisters hefted their bags, waited for a minivan to pass, and staggered across the street.
“Do we have to walk around the block to get to your Dumpster?” Tricia asked.
“It’s too far,” Angelica said. “We’ll walk straight through the Cookery. But for heaven’s sake, don’t drop those bags. If one of them splits on my carpet-”
The cheerful bell rang overhead as Angelica opened the Cookery’s door and led the way. “Coming through,” she told a surprised Frannie, who stood at the register with a woman customer.
Tricia plastered on a smile as she nodded a hello to Frannie and the well-dressed tourist who clutched a Cookery shopping bag in one hand. “Hi,” she said, and shuffled after her sister.
Angelica had just punched in the code to disarm the security system when Tricia caught up with her. She opened the door. “If my Dumpster’s full, we can put the overflow into-” Her words ended abruptly as she gazed at the top step outside the Cookery’s back exit.
Tricia remembered the two bowls that had sat on the step earlier that day. “Let’s get this stuff into the trash before a bag splits. Remember your carpets,” she admonished.
Angelica turned, leveled an icy glare at Tricia, and then hefted her own bags of trash before trundling down the concrete steps to the metal trash receptacle. She grunted as she slam-dunked her two bags of trash into the Dumpster, then took Tricia’s from her. Tricia refrained from speaking and followed her sister back up the steps to the store. Angelica paused on the top step, retrieving the empty food bowl and tossing aside what was left in the water bowl.
The store was devoid of customers as she stalked through the aisles of books, halted at the cash desk, and slammed the bowls onto the counter. “Frannie, I’ve asked you not to encourage that cat to come around, and you’ve gone and done it again.”
Frannie managed a strangled laugh. “Done what?”
“You’re feeding that stray cat when I’ve asked you not to.”
“But it’s hungry. And the nights are getting colder. I wouldn’t want that poor kitty to be hungry, let alone cold.”
“It’s wearing a fur coat,” Angelica stated.
“It’s got bare feet,” Frannie countered.
Angelica turned to Tricia. “Are you going to help me out here?”
Tricia shook her head and shrugged. “I think it’s wonderful that Frannie wants to help this little cat.”
“Well, I don’t. I don’t want a store cat like you’ve got. Can the two of you understand that?”
“I wasn’t trying to catch her so she’d be the official Cookery mascot, although I think it would be a wonderful idea,” Frannie said. “I want to take her home-make her my pet.”
Angelica blinked. “Oh. Well. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“Jumping to conclusions, eh, Angelica?” Tricia asked.
Angelica leveled a withering glare at her sister. “You stay out of this.” She turned back to Frannie. “And how are you going to catch this cat? I didn’t see a trap.”
“I’ve got to gain her trust first. I’ve already talked to Animal Control. They’re going to loan me a Havahart trap.”
“When?”
“I thought I might try to trap her in the next couple of days.”
“Well, make it sooner rather than later, will you? I don’t want it hanging around my store. It might have fleas, or some cat disease that could infect my customers.”
“Cats don’t have-” Tricia started.
Angelica whirled on her. “What about allergies? I could get sued if one of my customers has allergies, enters my store, and has a seizure or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. None of my customers has ever so much as sneezed because of Miss Marple.”
Angelica leveled a glare at her sister. “I believe I asked you to stay out of this.”
“Fine. I’m leaving. Good luck catching Penny,” Tricia said to Frannie.
“Penny?” Angelica asked.
“My cat,” Frannie said, and smiled.
Tricia shut the door. The wind had picked up as the sun sank toward the horizon. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stalked back to Haven’t Got a Clue. The leaves on the trees were ablaze with color, and already the leaf peepers were descending on the village. That was good for business but bad if she was going to be shorthanded, with Mr. Everett going on his honeymoon.
She was preoccupied with thoughts of the busy week ahead when she caught sight of a Hillsborough Sheriff’s Department patrol car moving toward her. She paused, squinting to see who was at the wheel; it was Deputy Placer. She realized that she had hoped it would be Captain Baker.
A gust of wind made her shiver.
Now why would she want to see him? Because he’d called and hadn’t left a message? Or was it those maddening green eyes that reminded her of her ex-husband, Christopher?
And why think about him at all when she had a date with Russ in just over two hours?
The cruiser rounded the corner as she opened the door to Haven’t Got a Clue.
Don’t even think about that man, Tricia chided herself as she resumed her position behind the sales counter. But for the next hour, she kept finding herself looking out the big glass display window, on the lookout for another Sheriff’s Department cruiser.