A Fatal Chapter (13 page)

There was just too much going on to worry about, and at the moment she seemed best suited to do just
that.

Afternoons at
the Chamber office tended to drag. Much as she liked Mariana, Tricia enjoyed that final hour of the day with Pixie, even if they only spent the time in companionable silence. And since Pixie had gained a significant other, her life seemed to grow richer and more interesting each day, while Tricia’s life had fallen into stagnation. She needed time to heal after the devastation to her store and her psyche that the fire had caused.

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.

Angelica hadn’t seemed agitated until they’d entered the pretty private dining room and she’d begun to pace its confines. “You know, I’m much more nervous about how Ginny is going to react to the news about Nigela Ricita than I was about you finding out.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because she and I originally got off to such a rocky start when I first came to Stoneham. It’s taken time to get her on my side. I don’t want to lose that.”

Tricia shook her head and continued to study the room, which was a delight. The walls were covered in a subtle rose-patterned wallpaper with a beige background, and original oil paintings of stately homes adorned each wall.

“Did you decorate this room, too?” Tricia asked.

“Of course. I did the refresh of the lobby and the guest rooms, too. It’s amazing what you can order online these days.”

Again Tricia shook her head, but this time in . . . wonder? Consternation? She wasn’t sure which. “Will you please sit down?” she implored.

“My nerves are so jangled. I’m not sure how I can explain it to Ginny. She’s going to
hate
me, I’m sure of it. I mean, doesn’t everybody hate their mother-in-law?”

“She’s not going to be happy, but I think
hate
is much too strong a word to describe her feelings.”

“You are
so
optimistic,” Angelica said, her face taut with worry.

The door handle rattled and Angelica jumped back, startled. The door opened, and Antonio ushered his very pregnant wife inside. “Ah, you’re already here,” he said.

“Oh,” Ginny said, sounding surprised at seeing the sisters. “When Antonio said we were coming to the inn for dinner, I never expected to see you two.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Tricia said.

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Ginny hastily explained, but she didn’t go on. The three women looked at one another, all of them forcing smiles. “So, what’s the occasion?” Ginny finally asked.

Tricia looked askance at her sister, who stood there with her mouth open but seemed unable to speak. “Why don’t we sit down and have a drink before dinner?” she finally blurted out.

“Unfortunately, I’m only drinking sparkling water these days, but feel free to go ahead,” Ginny said.

“Here,” Angelica suggested, gesturing toward the most comfortable chair.

Ginny shook her head. “I might not be able to get up from there.” She allowed Antonio to settle her at one of the chairs at the table. He then turned and pressed a button on the wall, which Tricia presumed would summon a waiter. She and Angelica seated themselves at the table, as well.

“How are things going?” Tricia asked, hoping her voice sounded normal, while Angelica continued to wring her hands.

“I can’t wait to drop this kid,” Ginny said, and exhaled a long breath. “I want my center of gravity back. I want my body
and
my life back.”

“Ginny has had a long day,” Antonio explained, looking sheepish.

“If you don’t want to stay for dinner . . .” Tricia began.

“Oh, no!” Ginny said. “I’m here and I’m not about to give up a gourmet meal. If we were at home, we’d be having a bowl of soup and a sandwich or takeout.”

They heard a knock at the door, and a white-coated waiter
appeared. “Hello, I’m James and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I get anyone a drink?”

“A dry gin martini with olives,” Angelica said, sounding desperate.

“I’d like a Chardonnay,” Tricia said.

“Campari on ice, and a bottle of Pellegrino
con gas
for my beautiful wife,” Antonio said.

“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back with your drinks and a selection of appetizers.”

“Thank you, James,” Antonio said.

The waiter gave a slight bow and retreated from the room. After he was gone, the four of them looked expectantly at one another.

“It’s rather a surprise to see the two of you here,” Ginny said again, taking in the sisters.

Angelica forced a laugh. “Well, we thought you could probably use a break from cooking.”

“That’s the truth. I don’t think either of us has had a decent meal—unless we’ve eaten here—in the last month,” Ginny said. “And I have a feeling we’ll be eating yet more takeout for at least a week or two after the baby comes.”

Angelica nodded vigorously, reminding Tricia of a bobblehead doll.

Nobody said anything for a long awkward minute or so, their gazes dipping to the floor and various corners of the room. Finally, Tricia was about to take the initiative and introduce the subject of why they had gathered, when Ginny spoke. “Antonio mentioned we’d be eating here in the private dining room, so I kind of assumed we were going to have one last romantic evening before the baby arrives. I have a feeling it could be years before that will ever happen again.”

“Maybe not,” Angelica said. “What you need is a willing babysitter.
Someone who loves you and is willing to watch over your little boy or girl as if it were her very own.”

“Have you got someone in mind?” Ginny said, and laughed.

Angelica forced yet another smile. “Well, yes. Me.”

Ginny’s smile faded. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because . . . because . . . Because I’m your baby’s nonna.”

“Nonna? That’s Italian for grandmother,” Ginny said, her eyes practically pinning Angelica to the wall.

Again, Angelica laughed. “Yes, I guess it is. You see, I’m—I’m—”

“Nigela Ricita,” Ginny said without batting an eye.

Angelica swallowed, obviously taken aback. “Well, yes. I am.”