Murder on the Half Shelf by Lorna Barrett Read Free Book Online

called you later—I mean, if I’m feeling all rattled again?”
    “Certainly.”
    Mary rested a hand on Tricia’s arm. “You are a dear. I’m sorry to be such a bundle of nerves, but like I said—this is all so new and strange for me.”
    “Don’t give it a thought.”
    “Talk to you later. And thanks for the coffee,” Mary said, and Tricia closed the door behind her.
    “I see you’ve already made the coffee,” Mr. Everett said as he tied on the green apron with the Haven’t Got a Clue logo and his name emblazoned on it.
    “Mary needed a little hand-holding this morning.” She didn’t want to go into why, but she knew it would eventually come up. “Feel free to help yourself.”
    Tricia retreated to the cash desk, where she counted out the money for the till. Miss Marple, who’d refrained from joining in the previous conversation, hopped up to her perch on the wall behind the register.
    Mr. Everett approached the desk and stood there, waiting expectantly. Tricia looked up. “Is something up?”
    “I understand there was another murder last night,” Mr. Everett said, without making eye contact. “Is it true you found the body?” The unspoken word
again
seemed to echo off the tin ceiling.
    First Mary, now Mr. Everett. She sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
    “It must be getting tiresome,” Mr. Everett commented. “I mean, it’s unfortunate that it always seems to be
you
who finds corpses around our fair village. And to think, we were once the safest village in all of New Hampshire.”
    Tricia held her breath. Was he going to voice that ridiculous
jinx
label that had dogged her since she’d found that first body in the Cookery two and a half years before?
    Mr. Everett shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Miles. We both seem to have our share of problems today.”
    Problems?
    “Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Tricia offered.
    Mr. Everett shook his head, but the corners of his mouth drooped and for a moment she thought he might cry. But then he shook himself, stood just a little taller, turned, and headed for the beverage station to get a cup of coffee. “Are we to interview another candidate this morning?” Mr. Everett asked, as he measured out the creamer and placed it into his cup.
    “I’m afraid so.” Tricia frowned. “Mr. Everett, do you think our standards are too high? I mean, we’ve both been unhappy with the last three people I’ve hired.”
    Mr. Everett sighed. “It’s definitely not just you, Ms. Miles. I, too, thought the last one might be different.” He shook his head. “In this economy, people will say just about anything to get a job. But far too many of the candidates who’ve come through our door seemed more interested in texting than selling books.”
    “When Angelica had a hard time finding the right person to work at the Cookery, I blamed it entirely on her. But now I’m not so sure she was completely at fault—and I never thought I’d say that.”
    Mr. Everett nodded. “Don’t worry, Ms. Miles. We’ll find someone to permanently take Ginny’s place. And soon. I’m sure of it.”
    Tricia wished she shared Mr. Everett’s positive attitude.
    The telephone rang, and Tricia hurried to answer it, at the same time dreading that it would be the latest job interviewee canceling at the last minute. “Haven’t Got a Clue, this is Tricia. How may I—”
    “Tricia? It’s Grant Baker.”
    Not the person she wanted to speak to. “What can I do for you?” she said, trying to sound bright and cheerful.
    “Will you come down to the station sometime this morning to file a statement about last night, or do you want me to send an officer over?” Why did he even ask? He knew she knew they were short staffed and really couldn’t afford to tie up one of the uniforms with that kind of work.
    “Of course I’ll come over. But I’m interviewing another person for the assistant manager’s job this morning. Would this afternoon be