Sentenced to Death by Lorna Barrett Read Free Book Online

Back in the day, he flew to Boston on a regular basis, taking off from all the little strips around here. He was based outside of Milford but flew to Rochester and Concord all the time. Then the market tanked and . . . well, you know how it goes.”
    She sure did. Too many people lost their livelihoods when the economy took a nosedive. Tricia had been among the few who had not only hung on but somehow made a profit. Angelica had done the same. Sadly, not all their fellow Chamber members had been so lucky.
    “Did you know much about Mr. Capshaw’s experience? I mean, you did check his references and the like, right?”
    Bob’s gaze dipped once again. “He was an old school pal. I hadn’t heard anything bad about him—and believe me, I hear all the dirt. As far as I knew, everything was on the up-and-up. This was just a tragic accident, Tricia. And I’m sure the NTSB is going to rule it as such.”
    Then why had he been intently going over contracts and insurance forms?
    Tricia saw the letterhead for CAPSHAW AERONAUTICS on the top pile of papers. Oh, how she longed to just snatch up the papers and run with them, but even she wasn’t that eager to suffer Bob’s ire. She tried another tack.
    “I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t know Mr. Capshaw was your friend. You’re probably suffering just as much as the rest of us who are mourning Deborah’s death.”
    “She was my friend, too, you know.” Bob actually sounded hurt, as though no one had considered his feelings. The fact that he seldom showed any emotion might have had something to do with that, but Tricia decided to be charitable. “The funeral is tomorrow morning at nine.”
    He nodded. “I’ll make a point to be there.”
    There didn’t seem to be much more to add to the decidedly one-sided conversation. Bob could be tight-lipped when he wanted—and now seemed like one of those times.
    Tricia stood. “I’d better get back to my store. Elizabeth needs help over at the Happy Domestic, and I promised to loan her Mr. Everett.”
    “That’s very generous of you Tricia. You’ve always been a kind person.”
    Tricia swallowed. It wasn’t like Bob to hand out compliments. Part of her was willing to take his words at face value. The other part . . . wasn’t so sure.
     
     
    Mr. Everett had arrived by the time Tricia made it back to Haven’t Got a Clue. Ginny was busy helping a customer, and Tricia made her way to the back of the store and the biographical shelves, where Mr. Everett was busy with what seemed like his favorite pursuit: dusting.
    “Good morning, Ms. Miles. And how are you this lovely day?”
    “Still sad, I’m afraid.”
    Mr. Everett nodded. “Yes, as am I and Grace. Mrs. Black was a lovely woman.”
    “Yes, she was.” Tricia waited a moment before continuing. “Mr. Everett, back in June we talked about you helping out at the Happy Domestic. Would you still be willing to do so? Mrs. Crane, Deborah’s mother, could really use your help.”
    “I’d be very happy to help out.”
    He looked like he was about to say something more, when the woman Ginny had been speaking with raised her purse and waved it at Tricia and Mr. Everett. “Yoo-hoo! William Everett! May I speak to you for a moment? It’s about my son.” She hurried forward, her face flushed, her eyes gleaming like those of a rabid raccoon. “He’s a brilliant boy—and his scholarship money was canceled. Those idiots at Avery Metal Fabricators decided to yank the financial rug right out from under him, and—”
    Mr. Everett sighed. He listened for a moment more and then interrupted the woman, handing her a business card. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to make your request in writing. There are forms on our Website.”
    “But I want to tell you in person just how deserving my boy is—”
    “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t make the determination of who gets how much. The chairman of our gift-giving committee makes the decision based on need. Now, please, unless