“What else is on tap tonight?” Tricia asked, swiping one of the tails before Angelica had a chance to stop her.

“Besides the shrimp pasta salad? I’m almost finished making it. I snagged a few of Nikki’s snowflake rolls from the Patisserie. I just have to mix the shrimp with the pasta, mayo, and veggies, then let it cool for a while. Meanwhile, the martinis are already chilled.”

“Why don’t we drink wine anymore?’ Tricia asked.

“Don’t you like martinis?” Angelica asked, sounding surprised.

“Not particularly.”

“Not even mine?”

“No.”

“Oh. Does that mean I have to drink the entire pitcher myself?”

“I didn’t say that,” Tricia said, and retrieved the crystal pitcher, chilled glasses, and olives from the fridge. She poured and gave Angelica a glass before reaching for another tail. This time Angelica was ready for her and slapped her hand. Tricia backed off, retreating to the kitchen island with her drink. She commandeered a stool.

“So, how was your day?” Angelica asked conversationally, putting the now-finished salad in the fridge.

“Awful.”

“What happened?” Angelica asked, concerned.

“Where do you want me to start?” Tricia asked, and took a sip of her martini. It wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t horrible, either. She must be getting used to them.

“Chamber business, if that’s what’s got you so down.”

Tricia sighed. “Who takes care of the hanging baskets around the village?”

“The Milford Nursery, why?”

“Because just about all of them are devoid of flowers.”

“What?” Angelica cried, horrified.

“You heard me.”

Angelica dropped her knife and rushed to the bank of windows that overlooked Main Street. “They can’t all have died.”

“The greenery looks very healthy, but where are the flowers? Surely they couldn’t all have fallen off at one time, either.”

“Vandals!” Angelica cried, and turned back to face Tricia. “Oh my God! I hope the committee for prettiest village in New Hampshire has already been through to check us out. Otherwise, we’re out of the running for yet another year.”

“I thought they came through last month.”

“I’m not sure of the timing. If all they saw was green, we’re toast!”

She turned back to look at the vast sea of greenery where days before there had been a riot of color. “Perhaps now that we have a police force, we can catch whoever is doing this. Not like when someone was smashing all those pumpkins a few years back, although that seemed to stop after a while.”

“There’s a reason it stopped. I caught the culprit.”

Angelica turned back to face her sister. “You did? You never said anything.”

“At the time, I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

“Know what? Who was behind it? Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

“Because it was Bob.”

Angelica turned back to face her sister. “No! I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. He was jealous that Milford’s Pumpkin Festival was so successful and drawing the tourists away from Stoneham, and he took out his anger on the free pumpkins he was giving away to those who listed with Kelly Realty.”

Angelica looked thoughtful. “At the time I did think he must have had a rush of clients, as the pumpkin pile did go down rather quickly.” She shook her head and shrugged. “Do you suspect Bob of denuding the hanging baskets?”

“Could be. He’s got a lot on his mind right now and none of it appears to be pleasant. But I would hope he’d think twice about doing something else that could get him in trouble with the law.”

“I’ll call the nursery first thing in the morning to find out what it will cost to replace the flowers. Maybe they can give the village a deal as it’s getting late in the season.”

“What if it happens again?”

Angelica frowned. “After we eat, we can go look at one of the baskets. I want to make sure it is vandalism and not just some horticultural blight. Are you game?”

“Sure. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

Angelica returned to the island and picked up her drink. “Have you heard anything else about Pete’s death?”

Tricia shook her head, deciding not to yet share what Mariana had told her about Jim Stark. “Grant came to the Chamber office to ask me about finding Pete. He said he couldn’t really start an investigation until he knew what the actual cause of death was. But he was also going to have a lab team search the gazebo and the area around it for clues.”

“Clues to what?”

Tricia shrugged. “To see if there was anything suspicious.”

“You said there was a needle mark and a suspicious bruise on Pete’s body, which would mean somebody injected him with something. What’s obtainable that could stop someone’s heart—and do it pretty quickly? Or what about an air bubble in the blood?”

“I’ve seen that threatened on TV and in movies, but I don’t know if you could actually kill someone that way.”

“You could look it up online,” Angelica said, and looked toward her computer.

“I’m about to eat dinner, and that kind of information could have a negative effect on my digestive system,” Tricia said.

“I’ve seen you eat while reading a book featuring a graphic autopsy,” Angelica said sourly.

“Well, I don’t want to look it up right now.”

“What else could kill someone so quickly?” Angelica pressed.

“Poison, I suppose.”

“How about arsenic?”

“It isn’t a fast acting poison. Generally the victim is fed the substance over a long period of time.”

“You mean like feeding them a steady diet of apple seeds? Are there any orchards around here?”

“It wouldn’t have to be an exotic poison. Maybe something as simple as a vial of super-strength vinegar.”

“Ya think?” Angelica said.

“I’m guessing.” It was time to change the subject. “I also spoke to Antonio today.”

Angelica lifted an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Tricia nodded. “I told him I’m very glad he’s a part of our family.”

Angelica’s smile was tentative. “Thank you. What did he say?”

“Not much. But he made sure I understood that he respected your wish to keep your secret quiet.”

“I’m thankful for that.”

“It’s time to tell Ginny—and before the baby arrives, especially if you want to be its grandma.”

Angelica let out a long breath. “I suppose I’ll have to. And as she’s Antonio’s wife, it really should come from me.”

“Agreed. And she will not be pleased.”

“Neither were you, but you seem to have gotten over it much quicker than I would have guessed.”

“What choice do I have?”

“And what choice does Ginny have, too?”

“Very little.”

“Antonio suggested we all have dinner soon at the Brookview Inn’s private dining room.”

“That would be lovely. I’ll set up a menu tomorrow and call him.”

“Why don’t you let him decide on the menu. I’m sure he’ll pick something Ginny is particularly fond of—you know, to get her in a receptive mood.”

“Great idea.”

Tricia eyed her sister critically. “You know, it almost seems like you have some kind of master plan in mind for all of us. Would you care to share it?”

“You make me sound like some kind of dictator or puppeteer,” Angelica said.

“I’m afraid that’s how some of the villagers view Nigela Ricita.”

“I haven’t done anything that didn’t benefit Stoneham in one way or another, and I wish you’d stop trying to make me feel guilty.”

“I’m sorry, Ange. I guess I still feel hurt that you kept it from me for so long.”

“I admit, it was a mistake, and I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past. Can’t we just move forward and accept the present?”

“We will. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Angelica asked, her expression blank.

“Do you have some kind of master plan for all of us?”

“Well, of course I do,” Angelica answered matter-of-factly.

Tricia started.

“Oh, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of megalomaniac. I want us all to be healthy and happy and successful. Period.”