Sentenced to Death by Lorna Barrett Read Free Book Online Page A

you wish to make a purchase here at Haven’t Got a Clue, I’m afraid I cannot help you.”
    The woman took the card with bad grace, shoving it into her purse. “Well, of all the selfish, hard-hearted bastards,” she growled, turned on her heel, and stalked toward the exit.
    A dejected Mr. Everett sighed. “Ms. Miles, I’m sorry that all these . . . these money grubbers keep showing up here at Haven’t Got a Clue. Since the newspapers and TV stations reported where I live and work, I can’t get away from them. Winning that lottery money was the worst thing that could have happened to us.”
    People looking for a handout had become more than a slight inconvenience, and Tricia felt sorry for Mr. Everett and his wife, Grace. They’d been the victims of boorish behavior far more than she had. It was Grace who’d set up the Everett Charitable Foundation, took care of the Website, and gave out the grants, while Mr. Everett did his best to keep a low profile.
    “Don’t worry about it. Now, getting back to the subject of the Happy Domestic, would you mind going over there right now?”
    “Not at all.” He surrendered his Haven’t Got a Clue apron, put away his lambs’-wool duster, and grabbed the Red Sox baseball cap he’d recently taken to wearing. “If anyone asks for me, please don’t tell them where I’ve gone—unless it’s Grace, of course.”
    “You have my word,” Tricia promised, and smiled. “But I can’t guarantee people won’t go looking for you. It’s happened before.”
    Mr. Everett sighed. “That’s true. I do wish I could don a disguise. I wonder, should I grow a moustache?”
    “How about one like Hercule Poirot’s,” Tricia suggested as she walked him toward the exit.
    Mr. Everett scowled. “I was thinking more like Tom Selleck.”
    “That would look good, too,” Tricia agreed, and tried not to laugh.
    “I think I should have started back in June.” He paused at the doorway. “Would you like me to report in here at Haven’t Got a Clue this evening after I leave the Happy Domestic?”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    “Then I shall have Mrs. Crane verify my work time.”
    “Very good,” Tricia agreed.
    “I’d be happy to work there tomorrow, too,” he said.
    “Deborah’s funeral is planned for tomorrow. I don’t think they’ll be opening.”
    “So soon?” Mr. Everett asked. Tricia nodded. “What about Sunday?” he asked.
    “If Elizabeth decides to open, I can always ask Ginny to work here, and if she can’t, I’m sure I can manage on my own for a day. I’ll call you later should anything change.”
    Mr. Everett nodded and then pulled his ball cap down low on his brow and opened the door. He poked his head outside, took a furtive glance around, gave her a quick good-bye, and then exited the store, pulling the door shut behind him.
    “Sorry about that,” Ginny apologized. “I tried to steer that woman toward Grace’s Website, but when she saw Mr. Everett standing there . . .”
    “I’m sure it’s not the last time it’ll happen. I feel so sorry for both of them. All Mr. Everett wanted to do was pay off his debts. And now he’s being hounded night and day by a bunch of deadbeats.”
    “Alleged deadbeats,” Ginny clarified. Tricia wasn’t sure if she was being funny or serious. “Did I hear you say something to Mr. Everett about me working Sunday?”
    “If you wouldn’t mind.”
    “I’d be glad to. Antonio is going to be busy all day, so it’ll give me something to fill the hours.”
    Busy how? Tricia wondered. Any time Antonio was too busy to spend a weekend with Ginny, that meant things were heating up at Nigela Racita Associates.
    And why did the thought worry her so?
     
     
    The lunch crowd at Booked for Lunch was long gone by the time Tricia showed up for her customary late lunch. This day, she was very late.
    “I didn’t think you were going to make it today.” Angelica said, and got up from her stool, scooting around the counter. She