Murder on the Half Shelf (27 page)

“The way he looks now? I’ll bet he wasn’t attractive on his best day ever. Besides, Pippa was married—”

“Unhappily so, according to Harry,” Tricia countered.

“And she pitched a fit when Chauncey made a crack about her less-than-sexy attire,” Angelica finished.

“Yes, but let’s say he had unreasonable expectations. The fact that she got angry with him, and in front of a witness—it could have driven him to kill the thing he loved most.”

“I suppose. And what reason could Mary have had to kill Pippa?”

“I have no idea. But she does seem overly interested in the whole situation.”

“The same could be said of you. At first glance, it would appear you’ve got a reason to see the woman dead. Can you prove you haven’t seen Harry in twenty years?”

“Probably not—but they can’t prove I did, either.”

Angelica took off her sunglasses. “Then that leaves one more suspect—Clayton Ellington. Go talk to him and find out what dirty tricks he’s playing.”

“Who says he’s playing any dirty tricks? For all we know Bob could be behind this.”

“You could be right. But to get to Bob you’ll have to talk to Ellington first,” Angelica declared.

Tricia nodded. “Did anything seem out of the ordinary when Bob announced the winners?”

“Not that I remember. It was a pretty standard meeting. Eggs, bacon, croissants, and jam. Bob went around the room and collected everyone’s business cards for the drawing, and while the waitresses were busing the tables, he pulled the four winners. He pulled my name last. It was a huge surprise.”

I’ll bet.

Tricia wasn’t eager to embrace the idea. Instead, she glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. Mr. Everett will be arriving at Haven’t Got a Clue any moment now. I’d better scoot.” She grabbed her coat from the seat beside her and got up. “Will you have time in the next few days to walk me through that cookie recipe?”

“I’ll have plenty of time—especially if I’m still in hiding,” Angelica said, and slipped her sunglasses back on.

Tricia wrestled into the sleeves of her coat. “See you later, then.” She headed for the door.

She wasn’t sure what bothered her more—trying to find an
excuse to see Ellington, or having to go to the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort to track him down.

“Please, Ms.
Miles, don’t make a fuss. I assure you I’m all right,” Mr. Everett said, sounding a little frustrated after Tricia not only made him take a seat at the readers’ nook but brought him several of the thumbprint cookies and a cup of coffee, placing them on the big square coffee table.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, “but please let me spoil you for at least a couple of minutes.”

Mr. Everett’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Oh, very well.”

Miss Marple seemed equally pleased to have Mr. Everett back and jumped on his lap, purring loudly and nuzzling his chin. “My dear Miss Marple, I missed you, too,” he said, and petted the cat.

Linda joined them. “I’m so glad you’re back, Mr. Everett. There’s a lot I need to learn about Haven’t Got a Clue, and I’ve enjoyed our talks so far.”

“As have I,” Mr. Everett admitted.

The door rattled and the bell rang, and Grace entered Haven’t Got a Clue with her sheepish-looking receptionist, Pixie, in tow. If Pixie was in costume once again, her long gray raincoat hid it. “Hello, Tricia,” Grace said, and stepped over to the reader’s nook. “And you must be Linda,” she said, offering her hand.

“This is my wife, Grace Harris-Everett,” Mr. Everett said, introducing them.

Linda and Grace shook hands. “So glad to meet you. You’ve got a keeper here,” she said, and nodded toward Mr. Everett, whose pink cheeks went a shade darker.

“I like to think so. But when I think of how close I came to losing him last night…” She let the sentence trail off, and then cleared her throat and glanced at Pixie, who had so far
not made eye contact with any of them. “This is my receptionist, Pixie Poe.”

Tricia raised an eyebrow at the last name. Linda and Mr. Everett nodded, since Pixie did not move forward to shake their hands. “I believe Pixie has something to say to you, Tricia.”

Tricia was glad all eyes were now on Pixie instead of her, for like Mr. Everett she felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

“I…I apol—” That was as far as Pixie got before her face crumpled—but not with shame. It was anger that made her eyes suddenly blaze. “No! I will not apologize to this bitch!” she cried, and glared at Grace, whose jaw had dropped open in shock. “She crossed me!” Pixie swiveled her gaze to glower at Tricia. “Because you tattled on me to Mrs. H-E, I got a real dressing-down. You disrespected me and I will
not
back down. I don’t care if I lose this job, lose my parole, and go back to the joint—I will not apologize to the likes of you.” She paused long enough to take them all in. “In fact, go to hell—all of you!” she shouted, then turned and stormed out of the store.

Miss Marple hissed at her retreating back, and Mr. Everett began to pet the cat at warp speed in hopes of placating her.

Grace stood rooted, her mouth still agape. “I—I don’t know what to say, Tricia. I am so very sorry.”

Tricia didn’t dare speak, so deep was her shock.

Linda stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on both Tricia’s and Grace’s arms. “Why don’t we all have a nice warming cup of coffee and a couple of cookies to make us feel better?”

No one said a word.

Linda guided Grace to one of the nook’s empty chairs. “Please sit. I’ll bring you a cup. How do you like it?”

“Black, please,” Grace murmured, still in shock.

Linda nodded and left the three of them alone.

Grace shook her head. “When I spoke to Pixie, I thought
she understood…I tried to make her realize how her treatment of you was inappropriate. I honestly thought she accepted that her behavior was inappropriate. I told her she’d have to apologize to you, and then all would be forgiven—and she agreed to do so.”

“Grace, I know you wanted to help that woman,” Mr. Everett began, “but perhaps her social skills just aren’t adequate for the job.”

That was the truth.

“But if she doesn’t have a job, there’s a good chance she might go back to prison,” Grace cried, her voice filled with despair.

Tricia bit her lip, guilt weighing her down. All she had wanted to do was help Mr. Everett and Grace through a rough patch. That she was the catalyst of all this trouble made her feel terrible, but she honestly didn’t know what she could have done differently.

As though sensing her distress, Grace reached out to touch Tricia’s hand. “It’s not your fault, dear. I’m completely responsible for all of this. If I hadn’t paid more attention to the job than to William, all this could have been avoided. And I so wanted to help the poor woman. I should go and try to find her.” She made to stand, but Mr. Everett reached out to stop her.

“I must put my foot down, dear. Ms. Miles is our friend. We owe her for changing our lives for the better—and even for bringing us together. Your—our—loyalty must be to her, not this lowlife stranger.”

Grace bristled at his description of her former assistant but said nothing.

Linda arrived with a tray filled with cups and a small plate of cookies. “Just what kind of business do you run, Grace?”

“A charitable foundation.”

That sparked Linda’s attention.

“I don’t know how I’ll manage without Pixie. I guess I’ll
call Libby Hirt at the Food Shelf and Job Bank to see if she has any other candidates with office experience.”

Linda bit her lip as she passed out the cups of coffee.

Tricia said nothing. She wasn’t about to suggest that Linda apply for the job. She had experience at a nonprofit, but Grace wasn’t looking for a person of Linda’s caliber. She needed someone to answer phones and lick envelopes, which was far below Linda’s skill and qualifications.

And working retail isn’t?
a small voice inside Tricia asked.

The four of them sipped their coffee, although Tricia was fairly certain none of them really tasted it. It was only when a customer entered the store that both Linda and Mr. Everett sprang from their chairs—which sent Miss Marple flying to the floor—to see if they could help that the mini pity party broke up. Grace also stood, and Tricia followed.

“I really must be going,” Grace said.

“Yes, and I have an errand to run as well,” Tricia said.

“I’ll see you soon,” Grace said, and reached for Tricia’s hand. “I am sorry about all of this. And even sorrier about Pixie. I had such high hopes for her. She was my first test case—and my first failure. I shall have to reevaluate the validity of the whole Everett Charitable Foundation.”

“Please don’t give it up because of this one incident. You’ve already made an impact for good—I’m sure this is just a temporary setback.”

Grace’s smile was faint. “I’m sure you’re right.” But she didn’t sound convinced. “Good-bye, Tricia.”

Tricia leaned forward and gave Grace a quick kiss on the cheek.

She watched as Grace said good-bye to her husband and Linda. Pixie sure had blown her chance to make amends. Which reminded Tricia of her own dilemma. In order to get back with Grant, she had to clear her name. Angelica was right. Her first step should be to talk to Clayton Ellington.

She headed for the back of the store to retrieve her coat.
With both Linda and Mr. Everett to watch over Haven’t Got a Clue, she knew she could leave her store without worrying.

As the door closed behind her, she worried more about what she’d say to Ellington when she arrived at the Full Moon Nudist Camp and Resort, and wondered if she’d be terribly overdressed.

TWENTY-TWO

Tricia admitted
to having more than a few butterflies as she turned into the drive. A FULL MOON NUDIST CAMP AND RESORT sign resplendent in hunter green and gold leaf greeted her. She drove slowly up the long driveway and parked her car outside the reception building. Somehow she expected a bigger parking lot. Instead of a sea of asphalt, there was only a small pond of tarmac surrounding the cottagelike building. Painted white with black trim, the squat building with a red tile roof could have passed for a Hollywood bungalow from the 1920s.

Tricia stepped out of the car, feeling self-conscious. What was she going to say to the receptionist? Worse, where was she going to look?

She opened the plate glass door, and a blast of hot air hit her.
They probably need to keep it set high to keep warm
, she thought, and approached the pony wall that separated the inner sanctum
from a rather luxurious waiting room filled with tapestry-upholstered chairs. A woman holding a spreadsheet leaned over the receptionist, and they conversed in low tones for a moment before noticing her presence. Tricia hadn’t been sure what she expected when she walked into the reception area, but finding the staff fully clothed was a little startling.

The woman with the spreadsheet whispered, “We’ll finish this later,” and disappeared inside one of the offices.

“Hello, may I help you?” the receptionist politely asked Tricia. Not only did she look smart, she was everything Pixie was not when it came to presenting a positive image. A placard on the half-wall’s shelf read
Sarah
. Was this the woman Frannie had spoken of, the one who’d had the affair with Ellington?

“Um, you ladies are dressed. I thought this was a nudist camp,” Tricia said.

“It
is
only fifty-three degrees outside. Do you want us to freeze?” Sarah asked, then laughed. “I’m sorry. This office is just like any other. You have to actually go inside the resort if you want to be a part of the lifestyle.”

“Oh. Um, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Ellington.”

“His office is in this building. Do you have an appointment?” Sarah asked, and consulted her computer screen.

“No. I’m a member of the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce and—”

“Your name?”

“Tricia Miles. I own Haven’t Got a Clue, the mystery bookstore in the village.”

“And do you have a clue?”

Tricia forced a smile. If she had a dollar for every time she heard that line…“Yes.”

Sarah rose from her chair. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

The woman whom Tricia had seen a few minutes before looked out of her office and eyed her, then disappeared again. What was with that? Maybe they didn’t get a lot of visitors
in the late winter and anyone visiting the office was fair game for gawking.

Sarah returned to her post. “Mr. Ellington has a few minutes free before another appointment. You can go in now. Please follow me.” She led the way back to Ellington’s office, then shut the door behind her.

Sumptuous.
That was the word that immediately came to mind as Tricia looked at the furnishings and paintings. No doubt about it, a nudist resort had to be a gold mine. Black leather chairs and couch, deep-pile carpet, expensive window treatments, and original artwork—nudes, of course.

Ellington hung up his phone and stood. “Ms. Miles—I wondered how soon it would be before you visited me.”

Tricia blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

And it was probably Bob Kelly who’d warned him she might pay him a visit.