Tricia sighed, held the cup in both hands, and let its warmth seep into her. It was barely ten thirty and already she felt like she’d put in a full day’s work. She hoped the coffee helped her get her second wind, and if not . . . considered heading for the Coffee Bean and a cup of espresso. There was more than one way to stay awake on the job.
* * *
Though he wasn’t scheduled to begin work until two o’clock, Mr. Everett showed up at precisely one to join Pixie for lunch. It pleased Tricia that two people with such diverse backgrounds had become fast friends thanks to Haven’t Got a Clue.
She had already collected her coat and was ready to leave for her own lunch when they returned from the Bookshelf Diner at 1:59. But when Tricia visited Booked for Lunch, she found an anxious Tommy—the short-order cook, ready to leave for the day—with a message that Angelica had already taken off to run an errand. Tricia’s usual tuna plate had been transferred to a foam take-out box. Tricia hadn’t called Angelica to talk about the fire, figuring she’d probably already heard about it, but she’d been eager to discuss it with her sister nonetheless.
After returning to her store, Tricia climbed the steps to her loft apartment and ate her lunch at her kitchen island, picking up where she’d left off in The Daughter of Time with only Miss Marple for company. Much as she loved her cat, Tricia found she much preferred eating her midday meal at the counter in Angelica’s homey little café with her sister for company. They’d come a long way in just over four years.
The rest of the day dragged. Mr. Everett and Pixie retreated to the storeroom above, with Pixie acting as instructor, teaching him how to fill the Internet orders. It was slow going, but Mr. Everett seemed to be picking up the whole book-fulfillment process, and Pixie predicted that they’d be caught up on all orders before the weekend. While they’d worked upstairs, Tricia and Miss Marple held the fort in the shop—a shop with absolutely no customers. Sometimes Tricia wondered if it was worth even opening the store during the winter. She glanced at the calendar and crossed her fingers, hoping Punxsutawney Phil’s prediction for an early spring would come to pass. Thank goodness the promise of warmer weather grew with every passing day and the sky remained lighter just a little longer each evening. Winter’s back might be broken, but they had five more weeks of winter to endure until the spring equinox.
As promised, Angelica strode into Haven’t Got a Clue at precisely 4:59. Her idea of old clothes didn’t match Tricia’s, for she was dressed in what looked like a brand-new pair of freshly ironed jeans, with a crease so sharp it could have drawn blood, and under her short ski jacket she had on a pretty lilac-colored sweatshirt that also looked like it had only just had the sales tag snipped. She also held her big pink purse, which could only mean that she had brought Sarge along for the evening’s entertainment.
“Why did you bring Sarge?” Tricia asked.
“You couldn’t say, ‘Hello, darling sister, I’m so happy to see you’?”
“Hello, darling sister, I’m so happy to see you. Why did you bring Sarge?”
At hearing his name, the little white dog’s head popped over the top of the purse and he yipped cheerfully, which caused Miss Marple to spring to her feet, jump to the top of the sales counter, and hiss.
“Miss Marple,” Tricia admonished.
“Sarge doesn’t like to be alone for so much of the day and then the evening, too. He won’t be any trouble,” Angelica promised. Sarge yipped again as though in agreement.
“Well, I hate to break up this happy reunion, but it’s time for Mr. E and me to head out for the night,” Pixie said. “See you in the morning, Tricia. Bye, Angelica. And bye to you, too, Sarge.”
“Good night,” Mr. Everett called as he followed Pixie out the door.
Once her employees had left for the day, Tricia heaved a sigh. “Good, now we can talk. Where were you this afternoon? I had to eat lunch all by myself.”
“Aw, you missed me,” Angelica said with a grin. “If you must know, I went out to buy Mr. Everett a birthday card. I must say, the pickings over at the Happy Domestic are awfully slim—at least if you’re trying to buy a card for a man. I was going to give Ginny a few suggestions on her card selection, but only her little assistant was there. I must remember to bring it up tonight when we see her. Anyway, I ended up at the convenience store. After that, I had a meeting with Marina over at the Sheer Comfort Inn.” She babbled on—much more information than Tricia really wanted to hear—but before she could get a word in edgewise, Angelica continued, “I do love to be the point person for that little venture, although I wish I could be more hands-on at the inn. Don’t you think it would be fun to entertain people on a daily basis?”
“No,” Tricia said. She let out an exasperated breath. “By now I’m sure you’ve already heard all about the fire.”
Angelica looked at her blankly. “What fire?”
“Betsy Dittmeyer’s home was a target of arson.”
“Arson?” Angelica repeated in disbelief.
Tricia nodded. “Good grief. It was filled with all that paper and trash—it looked like a gigantic bonfire.”
“Bonfire? It sounds like you witnessed it.”
“I did.” She filled Angelica in on her adventures with Russ Smith during the wee hours of the night.
“Was anything salvageable?” Angelica asked.
“You mean the computer?” Tricia asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. I spoke to Grant earlier today and hinted about what we found in Betsy’s files, but I didn’t dare implicate myself.”
“Arson,” Angelica repeated and shook her head, preoccupied. “Why would someone set the place on fire? Do you think it could have been the same person who killed her?”
Tricia nodded. “And probably kicked the door in, too.”
The fine lines on Angelica’s face suddenly seemed deeper. “What if the killer was trying to get rid of something he or she didn’t want anyone else to find?”
“That was my thought, too.”
“Then we’d better finish cleaning out the Chamber’s new home before it gets out that the junk inside belonged to Betsy, otherwise whoever torched her place might set fire to it, too.” Angelica turned and peered out the shop’s big display window. “Antonio’s car just passed by. We can finish this conversation on the way over to the rental house, or have you learned something else about this mess you wouldn’t want to say in front of Antonio or Ginny?”
“No. Let me get my coat and I’ll be right with you.”
A minute later Tricia locked the door to Haven’t Got a Clue and the sisters started off down the sidewalk heading north. Angelica spoke first. “This morning I interviewed four candidates for the Chamber receptionist job and I think I may have found the right person,” Angelica said.
“Anyone local?”
“Yes, one of the villagers. She’s an empty nester and looking for a part-time job to fill part of her day.”
“So you’ve made up your mind that Betsy’s job should go part-time?” Tricia asked.
“Actually, the more I think about it, the more I may actually want to hire more people. As it is, our Chamber does very little for its members. I’ve been networking with other Chamber presidents and it seems like Bob never did much except toot his own horn.”
“What kinds of perks were you thinking of?” Tricia asked.
“Special deals with big-box office supply stores, for one. Our members would get a discount with every purchase. We could get deals on checks, credit card processing, and for the larger businesses, like the dialysis center, payroll discounts.”
“That all sounds nice,” Tricia admitted. “What else?”
“We could hold classes on leadership, small business counseling, and how to prepare better promotional mailers. We could do a lot more networking events. Do you realize we only have fifty-six members in our Chamber, but there are over one hundred businesses in and around Stoneham that would qualify for membership?”