Book Clubbed by Lorna Barrett Read Free Book Online

them. She stood for a long moment soaking up the silence.
    â€œYow!”
Miss Marple said loudly. Her kitty stomach could tell time, too.
    â€œYes, it is time for your dinner.”
    The cat jumped down from her perch behind the register and watched as Tricia turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED and drew the blinds. But before she could take more than a couple of steps away from the sales counter, the phone rang. She turned and answered it. “Angelica?”
    â€œHow did you know?”
    â€œI just had a feeling. Is everything back to normal at the Cookery?”
    â€œWell, as normal as it can get after someone is murdered on your premises; something you well know.”
    Yes, Tricia did.
    â€œThe police are all gone. Come over and keep me company for a few hours, will you? I’m only making omelets for supper, but I’m making some nibbly bits as a test for my next cookbook. Are you game?”
    That was certainly better than scrounging the cupboards as Tricia had been planning to do. More likely Angelica just didn’t want to be alone, and Tricia couldn’t blame her. “Of course. Let me feed Miss Marple and I’ll be right over.”
    â€œSee you in a few,” Angelica said and hung up.
    Tricia and Miss Marple headed up the stairs to Tricia’s loft apartment. As she opened a fresh can of cat food and changed the water, Tricia thought back on her visit with Joelle. Something about it didn’t sit right with her. Perhaps it was because in her moment of terrible grief Joelle had pitched her wedding planning services. But then who could blame the woman for her chaotic thinking. She’d just lost her only living relative. If Tricia lost Angelica she was sure she’d suffer an emotional collapse. She’d do it quietly, and alone, but the thought was too painful to contemplate. If it had happened four years before she would have been sad but soldiered on.
    Stop it!
she told herself. Those types of thoughts were morbid.
    She petted Miss Marple, locked her apartment, and went back down to her store.
    Unless Angelica really irritated her, she would enjoy her company and try not to think about the terrible expression on Betsy Dittmeyer’s face, or ponder just who wanted the woman dead.

FIVE

    Tricia unlocked the door to the Cookery and let herself in. She walked a little slower as she headed up the steps and passed the second-floor landing, pausing a moment to look at the locked door that led to Angelica’s storeroom, where Betsy had drawn her last breath, and then hurried up the rest of the stairs, eager to leave the place of death.
    The door to Angelica’s apartment was unlocked and Sarge met her, barking happily and jumping up to try to lick her face. She’d come prepared with an Angelica-approved doggy treat, and he raced back to the kitchen while she hung up her coat. She frowned as the sound of slightly off-key singing wafted through the loft apartment.
Shades of Pixie,
she thought.
    As she entered the kitchen, Tricia found Angelica all dolled up—in a pretty, ruffled pink cocktail dress, makeup, with her hair curled, looking like she’d spent half the afternoon primping.
    â€œDid you get dressed up just for me?” Tricia asked.
    Angelica immediately stopped singing “That’s Amore,” but continued to smile, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “I always feel better when I look my best.”
    â€œYou do remember that someone died in your building today,” Tricia said.
    Angelica’s smile faded. “Don’t you dare go throwing a bucket of cold water on my carefully engineered good mood. Of course I feel terrible about Betsy’s death. Don’t forget, whoever killed her kicked in
my
door and raced through my home. I have been violated!”
    Tricia hadn’t even noticed that the door had been fixed. “I’m sorry. That was really thoughtless of me.”
    Angelica pouted. “I forgive you. But please,