Murder Is Binding by Lorna Barrett Page A

been?” she scolded Tricia under her breath. “A bus came through and these people have to be back on it in ten minutes.”
    â€œSorry. I had no idea. I had to make a few stops after the bank.” While Ginny rang up two pristine early Dick Francis first editions and an Agatha Christie omnibus, Tricia bagged the order, first checking the books for nudist leaflets before tossing in the current week’s stuffers and a copy of the bookstore’s newsletter. Within a couple of minutes everyone had been served and the door shut on the last customer’s back.
    Ginny sagged with relief and headed straight for the coffee station and a caffeine fix. She collapsed onto one of the store’s comfy chairs and, still feeling guilty for leaving her alone during a rush, Tricia didn’t have the heart to remind her it was against store rules for the help to sit in the customers’ reading nook.
    Ginny took a gulp from her steaming cup and stretched her legs out before her. “Winnie Wentworth stopped by to see you.”
    â€œFinally,” Tricia said, circling around to face her employee.
    â€œYou want to meet her?” Ginny asked, puzzled.
    â€œDeborah Black told me about her just a while ago. I wondered why she hadn’t been offering me merchandise.”
    â€œHer stock isn’t as good as most of our regulars. She only seems to go to tag sales to find books and other stuff to resell to the shop owners. Her car’s a rolling junk mobile. She’s been coming around the last couple of weeks. I’ve tried to discourage her, but today she was adamant; she wants to deal only with the owner—you—and said she’d be back.”
    â€œWhat’s she trying to sell us?”
    â€œMostly crappy old paperbacks—things you wouldn’t even put on the bargain shelf. There were too many customers in the store, and I just didn’t want to deal with her.”
    The shop telephone rang and Tricia grabbed it. “Haven’t Got a Clue, Tricia speaking.”
    â€œTrish, dear, where have you been all morning? That little helper of yours kept saying you were out of the store.”
    Tricia grimaced, her already haggard spirits sinking even lower. “Sorry, Ange, I was running errands.”
    â€œYou sound tired. Is everything okay?”
    â€œI got back in time for a rush of customers.”
    â€œGood, then you’re flush. Let’s go shopping. I hear there’s an outlet mall not too far from this sleepy little village of yours.”
    â€œI can’t leave the shop.”
    â€œEvery time I’ve called, you’ve been away from the store. I’ve been running all over town myself; I’m surprised I didn’t run into you.” Her sarcasm came through the phone lines loud and clear.
    Tricia ignored it. “Yes, well, Ginny was inundated with customers because I have been out most of the day.”
    â€œIf you can’t leave now, can you at least get off early?” Angelica pressed.
    â€œNo. Ange, this is my store. It’s up to me to—”
    Angelica cut her off with a loud sigh. “Have you never heard the word delegation ?”
    â€œYes, and I’m also familiar with the words responsibility and ownership . Pride of ownership,” she amended.
    â€œNo shopping today?” Angelica whined.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œHow about dinner tonight?”
    Tricia’s turn for the heavy sigh. “At the inn?”
    â€œGoodness no. I’m going to cook for you. I’ll come by at seven with everything I need. Have you got a bottle of red in the fridge?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood. I’ve got loads to tell you. See you then.”
    The phone clicked in Tricia’s ear. She hung up.
    First Angelica showed up for an extended visit. Now she wanted to cook for her little sister. Something about this whole visit didn’t feel right. Angelica was a confirmed chatterbox, yet she’d barely