“I really appreciate you stopping by,” Nikki said again as she bagged Tricia’s order.

“I hope you weren’t angry that Russ invited me to the fire last night.”

Nikki shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe how many times he rushes out after hearing something on that damn police scanner. But I guess that’s what you get when you marry a newsman.”

Tricia nodded. “It was terrible. I’d never seen a working fire before—except on TV. Betsy Dittmeyer’s next-door neighbor was beside herself with worry. Luckily she only lost a few of her shrubs to the fire. It could have been so much worse.”

“Russ said Betsy was a hoarder, and that there was a lot of combustible stuff in her house.”

“And that the cause was most certainly arson,” Tricia added.

“Who would do such a thing?” Nikki asked, setting the bakery bags on top of the counter.

Tricia had a couple of ideas but didn’t think it would be prudent to discuss them with Nikki. “Are you feeling better?” she asked instead.

“Physically or emotionally?” Nikki asked. She sounded like at any moment she might burst into tears.

“Both.”

“I haven’t had morning sickness these past few days, but Russ and I still can’t see eye to eye on my not working after the baby comes.”

“Deborah Black used to bring little Davey into work with her.”

“She didn’t have dangerous machinery in her back room,” Nikki said.

Tricia hadn’t thought of that. “I’m sure everything will work out.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” Nikki rang up the sale.

Tricia paid and picked up the bags. “I’ll see you soon,” she said as she headed out the door.

Again she crossed the street for the Coffee Bean, bought two coffees, and stopped at the Happy Domestic. Ginny was seated at a stool behind the main counter, tagging merchandise. She looked up when Tricia knocked.

“Didn’t I see you not ten hours ago?” Ginny asked when she opened the door.

“You did,” Tricia said, settling her purchases on the cash desk. “And it feels like it was a million years ago.”

Ginny eyed her friend. “You look really tired. We could go sit in the back,” Ginny offered, but Tricia shook her head.

“I’m fine standing.” She passed the decaf coffee to Ginny. “Did you hear Betsy Dittmeyer’s house burned last night?”

“No,” Ginny said, sounding shocked.

Tricia nodded grimly. “It looks like it was arson.”

“Wow. Do you think whoever killed her burned her house, too?”

Tricia shrugged. “It could just be a coincidence.”

“But you don’t think so.”

Tricia shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk much last night.”

“Digging through boxes of junk wasn’t my idea of a fun evening. But if I hadn’t gone along with Antonio I’d have been miserable at home without him.”

“I love hearing that you two are so happy,” Tricia said, wishing Nikki and Russ would experience a little more joy in their marriage. “I take it you still haven’t told him about the baby.” She opened the bakery bag, taking out the muffins.

Ginny shook her head. “The timing hasn’t been right. I thought I’d wait until the weekend to tell him.”

“Speaking of the weekend, have you spoken to Grace about Friday night?”

“No, why?” Ginny asked, removing the paper from her muffin.

“It seems Mr. Everett has never had a real birthday party, and she’d like to give him one on Friday night.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“I’m surprised Antonio hasn’t mentioned it to you. I believe Grace spoke to him about the reservation at the Brookview.”

“He’s had so much on his mind lately, I’m not surprised he forgot. Who’s invited?”

“You, Antonio, Pixie, and me.”

“Gee, that’s an awfully small party.”

“She thought we could all go to dinner and celebrate.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Friday Valentine’s Day?”

“That is Mr. Everett’s birthday.”

Ginny frowned and paused in her work. “Oh. I was kind of looking forward to a romantic evening with Antonio. After all, it might be our last. I’ve heard romance is a thing of the past once kids enter the picture. I sort of decided Valentine’s Day might be the best time to tell him the good news.” She sounded anything but happy about the announcement.

“I hadn’t thought about the romantic aspect of the day, probably because I had no plans and I doubt Pixie does, either. Would you like me to ask Grace to postpone the dinner until Saturday?”

“Oh, no. That wouldn’t be fair to Mr. Everett. At his age, who knows how many more birthdays he’ll have. I’ll call Antonio later this morning and run it by him. I’m sure he won’t mind. We can have our dinner a day later. By then a heart-shaped box of chocolates will sell for half price. Maybe he’ll even buy me two of them,” she added hopefully.

Tricia smiled. Trust Ginny to look at the bright side of things.

“You didn’t mention Angelica as being on Grace’s guest list. Is there a reason she isn’t invited to Mr. Everett’s party?”

Tricia shrugged, removing the paper wrapper from her muffin. “Sorry. She wasn’t on the original list, but she had me ask if she could come and, of course, Grace was happy to include her. Now that she and Bob are history, I don’t think Angelica was looking forward to being alone on Valentine’s Day.”

“Bob certainly left her with a mess with the Chamber of Commerce,” Ginny said and took a bite of her muffin.

“That he did. And it seems Bob’s been among the missing lately. I’ve been trying to track him down to ask what he knows about Betsy Dittmeyer. After all, he worked with her for two years.”

“I never got the sense that she shared much with anybody. And let’s face it, unless there’s some kind of financial angle, Bob isn’t much interested in being friendly to people in general, either. At least that’s the impression I always got. To tell you the truth, I could never figure out what Angelica saw in him.”

“I hear you,” Tricia agreed.

“Although I must say Bob’s been nicer to me since I started managing the Happy Domestic,” Ginny said.

“Paying your rent on time probably has a lot to do with that,” Tricia agreed. “I’m not sure Deborah always did.” She sipped her coffee. “Are you looking forward to tonight?”

Ginny shook her head and sighed. “I can’t say pawing through a dead woman’s junk is all that interesting.”

“But what about all that money?” Tricia asked.

“I’d probably be more interested if I got to keep it, but Antonio was absolutely thrilled. He couldn’t wait to talk to his stepmother about it this morning. I guess NRA paid more than market value for the house, so finding that money takes the sting out of it.”

“I still can’t understand why Betsy didn’t pay the rent she owed and reclaim the boxes that held the money. How does one forget forty-four thousand dollars?” Tricia sampled her muffin. Good! No doubt about it, Nikki made one heck of a good product—no matter what she baked.

“And where on earth did Betsy get that kind of money? And while it looks like she had it, she sure didn’t flaunt it. Not the way she dressed, or the car she drove.”

“I agree.” Betsy seemed to favor big ugly sweaters and matronly dresses. And Tricia never saw her wear anything but scuffed penny loafers.

Ginny looked pensive. “Don’t you think all that cash had to be ill-gotten gain?”

“Are you thinking she sold drugs or something?” Tricia asked.

“Dealers do run a cash-only operation,” Ginny pointed out. “I wonder if Antonio should get it tested for cocaine residue.”

“You’ve been reading too many police procedurals,” Tricia said.

“Well, you were my bad influence in that respect.”

Tricia broke off another piece of muffin and shook her head. “I can’t see Betsy involved in the drug trade. Someone would have noticed people hanging around her home. I spoke with one of her neighbors and was told she pretty much kept to herself.”