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

okay?”
    “Sure.”
    “Have you learned anything new about the case since last night?”
    “You know I can’t talk to you about the murder investigation.”
    “Does that mean you can’t talk to me at all?” Tricia asked.
    “It makes things difficult,” he admitted.
    Yes, it certainly did.
    “Let’s give it a few days—see how things shake out.”
    “You mean until you rule me out as a possible suspect?” Tricia asked.
    She heard him sigh. “Something like that.”
    There was no point in getting angry. In fact, she wasn’t sure she
was
angry. She’d suspected this was coming, after all.
    “Are you angry with me?” he asked.
    She turned away, so that Mr. Everett wouldn’t hear any more of the conversation, not that he would actively eavesdrop. And, in fact, he’d disappeared to commandeer the shop’s lamb’s-wool duster. “No. Resigned. When this is over, can we have an honest talk about where we’re going as a couple?” Or, more to the point, where they were
not
going as a couple.
Couple?
The word wasn’t even appropriate for the level of commitment he’d been willing or able to show.
    Baker sighed again. “Why is it women always want to talk about that kind of stuff?”
    “Because it’s important to us. It should be important to you, too.”
    “I’m on the rebound,” he admitted.
    “So was I after my divorce. I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment, just something more than we’ve got now.”
    “You’ve been very patient with me.”
    That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but there was also no point in voicing that sentiment yet again, either.
    “Before I hang up, is there else anything you want to tell me about what happened last night?
Anything
,” he stressed.
    “Do you think I’m keeping something from you?”
    “No. I’m just doing my job.”
    “Well, in the inimitable words of Winston Churchill: carry on.”
    She waited for him to say good-bye, but instead, he simply hung up.
    Tricia frowned as she put the receiver back into its cradle. Almost immediately, it began to ring again. Good. He’d probably accidentally cut short their call without the pleasantries. She didn’t want to think it might have been deliberate.
    She let it ring a third time before picking it up. “Grant?”
    “It’s Angelica. What are you doing for lunch today?”
    It was Tricia’s turn to sigh. “The same as I always do on a week day. Come over to Booked for Lunch for the tuna plate.”
    “I’m not going in today. Come over to my apartment. I’m testing a special recipe for the next cookbook and I need a guinea pig to try it.”
    It wasn’t the grandest of invitations but about the only one Tricia was likely to get that day. “Appetizer, soup, salad, entrée, or dessert?”
    “It’s a surprise.”
    “Okay, I’ll be there at noon. Can I bring anything?”
    “A bottle of Riesling would be nice.”
    “No can do.”
    “Then anything alcoholic you can lay your hands on. I’m parched.”
    “It’s ten fifteen in the morning.”
    “I’ve been up since four, and I went to bed late last night. And I want to hear everything that happened at the inn after I left last night, too.”
    “Well don’t hold your breath, because there’s not much to tell. I’ll see you around noon.” Tricia hung up—without saying good-bye. But then, she would be seeing Angelica in a couple of hours—not days.
    Mr. Everett stood nearby, holding the morning mail. Tricia hadn’t even heard the door open and the mailman arrive.“You’d best look this over before our first customers arrive,” he said, and handed the small pile to Tricia.
    “Thank you.”
    “I’ll just go back to my dusting,” Mr. Everett said, and headed toward the back of the store once more.
    Tricia sorted through the envelopes. Mostly bills, a few useless circulars, and a bubble envelope. Tricia’s heart sank. It was too small to be one of the books she’d ordered. Her ex-husband had been making a habit of sending expensive gifts