Now you’re not only being melodramatic, you’re being silly, Tricia chided herself.
She scanned the first paragraph of Angelica’s News from the President column and spied a typo. Oops.
Back to work, she told herself, but doubted she’d accomplish too much.
There was just too much going on to worry about, and at the moment she seemed best suited to do just that.
THIRTEEN
Tricia watched as Pixie gathered up her stuff. “How was the roller derby?”
“Great. I saw a couple of my old teammates. We all went out for a few beers afterward. We talked until past midnight. Man, those were the days.”
“Will you be seeing Fred tonight?”
Pixie shook her head. “He’s gotta get an oil change, so it’s laundry for this old broad. How about you?”
“I’m going out to dinner at the Brookview.”
“With a guy?” Pixie asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Tricia said coyly.
“Who? Your ex? The chief?”
Tricia shook her head. “Antonio Barbero and Ginny.”
“Aw, that doesn’t count,” Pixie said.
“It should be very interesting,” Tricia said. And if Ginny exploded, the fireworks could be very entertaining, too.
“Well, I’m having a frozen dinner, so order something wonderful and think of me,” Pixie said.
“I will,” Tricia promised.
“See you tomorrow,” Pixie called as she headed for the door.
After she’d gone, Tricia shut down her computer. She went upstairs, changed her clothes, and then fed Miss Marple before she locked the Chamber of Commerce. The air was blast-furnace hot and muggy as she started down the sidewalk heading south. She crossed the street at the corner and headed for the municipal parking lot and saw Angelica heading north to join her.
“What a day,” Angelica cried in greeting.
“Tell me about it.”
And Angelica proceeded to do just that. “You’d think that finding appropriate silk flowers would be an easy task, but I had to go all the way to Manchester, and I still don’t know if I have enough.” She glanced toward one of the baskets and an offending lily that now seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.
“I thought you were going to order them online.”
“I didn’t want to wait for delivery.”
“Mr. Everett noticed the flowers—or lack thereof,” Tricia said.
“Well, of course he would. He’s as big a mystery hound as you are, and it’s sure a mystery to me why someone would want to deprive the entire village—and our tourist guests—of their beauty,” Angelica said as she unlocked the car and they got in.
“Hurry with that air-conditioning,” Tricia said. “I feel like I’m half-cooked.”
Angelica started the car and hit the control to let down the windows. “It probably won’t even kick in before we get to the Brookview Inn. Getting back to my story, I bought the flowers and have already sorted them by color, and I have them separated so we won’t need to spend as much time with it tonight.”
Tricia sighed. So she did plan on repopulating the baskets that evening.
“What kind of a day have you had?” Angelica asked.
“One filled with startling news.”
“Do tell,” Angelica said, and waited for a car to pass before she drove out of the lot.
“Did you hear about Janet Koch?”
“Yes! That poor woman. Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“I don’t know, but I sure hope so. First Pete, now Janet. Speaking of Pete, Grant told me something in confidence—”
“Which you’re about to spill,” Angelica said with relish.
“Pete had a past.”
“Was he a bank robber?” Angelica guessed.
“No! A former heroin addict.”
“Pete Renquist a junkie?” Angelica repeated, incredulous, and braked at the corner.
“Apparently so. He died of a heroin overdose—that wasn’t self-inflicted. Grant seems to think he hadn’t been into the drug scene for many years.”
“So why does someone wait half a lifetime to off the poor guy?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. The sad fact is, we may never know.”
Angelica pulled up to the Brookview Inn and turned into the drive, parking in the back under a tree. “That wasn’t all the news around the village. Frannie couldn’t wait to tell me that Christopher was seen leaving the Chamber office early this morning in his pajamas. Are you two back together?” Angelica asked point-blank.
“No! After walking me home last night, the idiot barged in and wouldn’t leave. He fell asleep on the chair in my sitting room with Miss Marple on his lap. Thinking he’d wake up and go home, I left him there. He didn’t.”
Angelica closed the car windows and gathered up her purse. “Well, if you do decide to start shacking up, please show a little discretion.”
“Believe me, I have no plans to shack up with anyone.”
Angelica shook her head sadly. “Well, that’s too bad.”
Tricia grabbed her own purse and got out of the car, slamming the door. Angelica got out, closed her door much more gently, and pressed the button on her key fob to lock it. An exhaust fan at the back of the restaurant’s kitchen roared, and the mingled aromas of that night’s dinner specials filled the parking lot.
They stood there for a moment, taking in the refurbished and majestic old inn. “How much of this place do you actually own?” Tricia asked.
“Ninety-five percent.”
“You’re kidding,” Tricia said.
“No. The Baxter family didn’t want to sell it outright, and it took a lot of negotiating, but in the end Antonio and I make all the decisions on what goes on. The family really only owns the name.”
“Are they the same family that built the building where By Hook or By Book is housed?” Tricia asked.
“The very same. They’re one of the oldest families still tied to the village.”
Tricia looked back to the venerable old building before her. “Well, you’ve done a nice job updating the place.”
“Thank you,” Angelica said with pleasure. “The occupancy rate is up over fifty percent since NRA took over the day-to-day control. It’s been a win-win situation for all involved.”
She started off, and Tricia fell in step beside her as they approached the inn’s back entrance.
“And none of the employees know?” Tricia whispered.
“No. And that’s the way I want to keep it. It’s Antonio’s baby, and he’s done a fabulous job.” They climbed the steps and entered, walking down a well-lit corridor that led to the lobby. They paused at the reception desk, where the new night clerk, Missy Andrews, sat.
“Good evening, Ms. Miles. How can I help you?”
“Hello. Tricia and I are having dinner with Mr. Barbero and his wife in the private dining room.”
“He just stepped out, but he said to expect you.”
“Would it be all right if we went on ahead and waited for them?”
“Yes, go right on in,” the pert blonde young woman said, smiling.
“Thank you.”
Angelica led the way down the hall.
“Does this private dining room get much use?” Tricia asked.
“Actually, yes. It used to be a storeroom, but when we put in the new HVAC system, we found we could use part of the basement instead. It’s worked out well.” The door was ajar, and Angelica strode through it with Tricia following.
The décor was what Tricia expected: elegant yet understated. The only bling evident were the crystal sconces on the walls around a gas fireplace. The furniture was colonial, and the floor was dark hardwood with a large antique Oriental area rug. A table with crisp white linens and set for four sat in front of a window with sumptuous drapes that overlooked the inn’s side garden. Closer to the door was a seating area that could comfortably accommodate six. Tricia sank into one of the upholstered chairs to wait.