“Who?”
“Pete Renquist.”
“Oh, no! Is he okay?”
“He was in cardiac arrest when the paramedics loaded him into an ambulance and whisked him off to the hospital.”
“Oh, my! And he seemed perfectly fine this morning. Are you sure he had a heart attack?”
“I’m not sure of anything, but I didn’t see any sign of trauma. The poor man. I’m afraid I didn’t give the Chamber its money’s worth this afternoon while I sat around thinking about him.”
“Since we pay you nothing, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Angelica said kindly, draining her glass and turning to the fridge to pour herself another martini. She offered to top up Tricia’s glass, but she hadn’t yet finished the one she had. Angelica held her glass aloft. “To Pete. May he make a speedy recovery.”
“To Pete,” Tricia agreed, and took a sip of her drink.
She’d barely swallowed when Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” broke the quiet, and Tricia grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. She recognized the number: Russ Smith.
“Hello?”
“Trish? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but—”
“It’s about Pete?” she asked anxiously.
“Yeah. Sorry, but I just got word that he died.”
Dead? Angelica mouthed.
Tricia nodded.
“I’m so . . . bummed,” Tricia told Russ.
“Yeah, me, too.”
“And here’s something that will bum you even more. It may not have been of natural causes.”
“What are you saying?”
“There was a suspicious bruise and a puncture mark on Pete’s right arm.”
“I don’t like the way this conversation has turned,” Tricia said.
“That yet another murder has taken place in Stoneham? No, I guess you wouldn’t. And of course, you found him.”
“I’ll remind you he was alive when I found him.”
“Tell that to your buddy, Chief Baker.”
Tricia let out an exasperated breath.
“I gotta go. I’m still at the office and have to keep the line free in case Nikki calls.”
“Thank you for calling. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Tricia stabbed her phone’s off icon.
“I change my toast,” Angelica said, raising her glass once again. “Rest in peace, Pete.” She took a healthy slug. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
Tricia nodded. “Pete may not have died of natural causes.”
Angelica raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Tricia took a sip of her martini. She wasn’t sure she would ever really like them.
She hadn’t told Angelica what Pete had muttered before losing consciousness, but she’d have to tell Grant Baker when he came to talk to her—and he would. Not that what Pete had said made sense. He’d died with his secret, and now no one would ever know what it meant.
Angelica sampled a piece of pasta, declared it al dente, and enlisted Tricia to set the table. She did so on autopilot, but she had no appetite. She’d been wounded to learn Angelica’s secret and now shocked to hear of Pete’s death.
She wasn’t sure she could take any more shocks that day.
THREE
She unlocked the door to the office and let herself in. Miss Marple sat in a patch of early-evening sunshine in the kitchen and greeted her with a scolding “Yow!”
“I apologize. But I did leave you kitty treats before I left. It’s not my fault you were nowhere in sight before I had to go,” she explained.
Miss Marple just glared at her.
No sooner had she put the cat’s now-full dish on the floor when she heard a knock at the back door. She ignored it. Several times Chamber members had appeared on her doorstep after hours with some request or other—knowing the business was officially closed, but also knowing that she would be there and expecting her to be willing to honor their requests. She worked enough hours for the Chamber—and gratis, too—that she was determined not to let whomever it was infringe on her personal time—especially when she was feeling so unsettled.
The knock came again, but Tricia stood by the sink, waiting for whomever it was to go away. A minute had passed, and she was just about ready to mount the stairs for her temporary living space when a knock came at the kitchen window, startling her. She turned and saw the face of her ex-husband, Christopher, peering in at her.
“Open the door!” he called.
Tricia frowned. “What do you want?”
“To talk.”
She sighed. She knew he wouldn’t go away until she let him in, so she stalked over to the back door and opened it.
“Why didn’t you answer?” Christopher demanded.
“I thought it was a Chamber member.”
He smiled. “Well, I am a Chamber member. Why wouldn’t you want to talk to me?”
“The office is closed, so if you’ve come about a Chamber matter . . .” she said, grabbing his elbow and attempting to push him back out the door, but his feet stayed planted.
“I heard about what happened.”
“Yes, it’s very sad that Pete died,” she said, but she doubted he’d already heard that it was a suspicious death.
“I’m sorry you found him,” Christopher said gently.
For a moment Tricia wasn’t sure what he meant, but then . . . “Thank you.” Then again, she wasn’t about to cut him any slack. He owed her an explanation, and now was as good a time as any to demand it. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that Angelica is Nigela Ricita?”
He shrugged, his expression bland. “She asked me not to.”
Tricia waited for more of an explanation but was disappointed. “That’s it?”
Christopher nodded. “I’m a man of my word.”
Except when it came to a marriage vow.
“Do we have to stand here in the doorway to talk? Can’t we sit down? I’ve never seen your living quarters,” he said.
And you aren’t about to, either, she thought.
He pushed past her and walked into the kitchen. Miss Marple looked up from her bowl and almost seemed to smile. “Yow!” She trotted over to meet Christopher, winding around his legs and looking up at him with adoring eyes.
Traitor!
“You played dumb with me when you said you’d gone to Portsmouth for the job interview to work for her company.”
“No, I didn’t. I really did go to Portsmouth, where I was interviewed for the job working for NRA.”
“Did Angelica interview you?”
“No, Antonio did. She let him make the decision.” Christopher pulled one of the bistro chairs away from the table and sat.
“And he made it knowing you were my ex-husband?”
“I don’t think we discussed it. He asked for my credentials, did some checking, and voila—I was hired. Your sister is a very generous employer. I’d like to say it’s a family trait, but your spirit of generosity seems to have evaporated these past few years.”
And he knew damn well why, too.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”
She considered Miss Marple’s water bowl on the floor. “This is a shared refrigerator. I don’t keep wine or have any liquor down here.”
“How about upstairs?” Christopher asked. Tricia’s glare intensified. “How about iced tea?”
Tricia shook her head.
“Coffee?”
“I’m not sure you’ll be staying that long.”
“Tricia, why can’t we be friends? I thought we were getting along a lot better lately.”
“That was before I found out you knew Angelica’s secret.”
“For what it’s worth, among the advice I’ve given her was that she should level with you. I knew you’d be upset. Hell, she knew it, too, but she felt the timing wasn’t right.”
“And when was the timing going to be right?”