hope you’ll like it.”
“I bet I will.” She handed Angelica the bottle.
“Get out the plates and silverware, while I finish this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time Tricia had set the table, Angelica set her notes aside and took the strudel from the oven, transferring it onto a waiting platter. “It has to sit for a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee or a glass of wine to go with it?”
“With the way my day’s going, I’ll take the wine,” Tricia said.
“Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good. Tell me all about it,” Angelica said, reaching for the glasses in the cupboard.
Tricia commandeered one of the island’s stools. “Have you heard anything new about the murder last night?”
Angelica shook her head. “No, but I’ve already been interrogated by Frannie. She missed her calling.
She
should have been a police detective. How about you?”
“Luckily Frannie was busy with a customer when I came in, but I’m sure she’ll try to catch me on the way out. I did have a quick conversation with Grant, though.
Quick
being the operative word. He says he can’t talk to me—as a person—until this whole mess is sorted out. I’m supposed to go to the station to make a report sometime this afternoon.”
“Me, too. But I didn’t get a call from the chief himself,” Angelica said wryly. “Have you heard from Harry yet today?” she added, with a sly lilt to her voice.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well, if he was sweet on you once. And now he’s suddenly available…”
“Oh, Ange, that’s a terrible thing to say. His wife was just murdered.”
Angelica shrugged and cracked the cap on the bottle of wine.
“Mary Fairchild came to see me this morning. She’s terribly upset about the whole situation,” Tricia said.
“Why not? Like the rest of us she got cheated out of a night in a lovely inn.”
“That wasn’t her complaint. She wanted some hand-holding. She seemed to think finding corpses doesn’t bother me.”
“Well, you
have
had more experience than the rest of us.”
Tricia glowered at her sister. “I’ve been mulling all this over since last night. Do we know who recruited Pippa and Jon/Harry/whoever to Stoneham?” Tricia asked as she accepted a glass of wine from Angelica.
“What makes you think they were recruited? It’s been obvious for some time that there’s a lack of hotel space in the vicinity. Maybe they just did their homework. Or maybe they came to Milford’s pumpkin festival and found nowhere quaint to stay in the area and thought,
Oh, this is an opportunity
. If I weren’t overwhelmed with the Cookery, Booked for Lunch, and my writing career, I might have stepped up to the plate,” Angelica admitted. There was something odd about the lilt in her voice.
“That’s possible,” Tricia agreed. “I understand they bought the place last fall and have been working on it for the past few months, but I’m not sure they actually own it.”
“If you’re so interested, why don’t you talk to Jon Comfort?”
“Harry Tyler,” Tricia corrected.
“Whatever. Maybe he’s interested in selling now that he’s lost his wife. I mean, he may need the money for his legal defense.”
“Why would I want to talk to the man? He walked out on me.”
Angelica waved a hand in dismissal. “That was over twenty years ago. You’re not still carrying a torch for him, are you?”
“Of course not. But let’s face it, it’s the ultimate snub to walk out on your family, friends,
and
girlfriend, fake your death, and disappear into obscurity.”
“Girlfriend or lover?” Angelica asked, ignoring the last part of Tricia’s sentence.
“Both.”
Angelica’s smile was smug as she shook her head and tsked. “And Daddy always bragged how you were such a
good
girl.”
Tricia gave her sister a sour look. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand. Why was Pippa murdered?”
“I’d say it’s up to the police to figure it out, but knowing you, you’ll
“I bet I will.” She handed Angelica the bottle.
“Get out the plates and silverware, while I finish this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
By the time Tricia had set the table, Angelica set her notes aside and took the strudel from the oven, transferring it onto a waiting platter. “It has to sit for a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee or a glass of wine to go with it?”
“With the way my day’s going, I’ll take the wine,” Tricia said.
“Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good. Tell me all about it,” Angelica said, reaching for the glasses in the cupboard.
Tricia commandeered one of the island’s stools. “Have you heard anything new about the murder last night?”
Angelica shook her head. “No, but I’ve already been interrogated by Frannie. She missed her calling.
She
should have been a police detective. How about you?”
“Luckily Frannie was busy with a customer when I came in, but I’m sure she’ll try to catch me on the way out. I did have a quick conversation with Grant, though.
Quick
being the operative word. He says he can’t talk to me—as a person—until this whole mess is sorted out. I’m supposed to go to the station to make a report sometime this afternoon.”
“Me, too. But I didn’t get a call from the chief himself,” Angelica said wryly. “Have you heard from Harry yet today?” she added, with a sly lilt to her voice.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well, if he was sweet on you once. And now he’s suddenly available…”
“Oh, Ange, that’s a terrible thing to say. His wife was just murdered.”
Angelica shrugged and cracked the cap on the bottle of wine.
“Mary Fairchild came to see me this morning. She’s terribly upset about the whole situation,” Tricia said.
“Why not? Like the rest of us she got cheated out of a night in a lovely inn.”
“That wasn’t her complaint. She wanted some hand-holding. She seemed to think finding corpses doesn’t bother me.”
“Well, you
have
had more experience than the rest of us.”
Tricia glowered at her sister. “I’ve been mulling all this over since last night. Do we know who recruited Pippa and Jon/Harry/whoever to Stoneham?” Tricia asked as she accepted a glass of wine from Angelica.
“What makes you think they were recruited? It’s been obvious for some time that there’s a lack of hotel space in the vicinity. Maybe they just did their homework. Or maybe they came to Milford’s pumpkin festival and found nowhere quaint to stay in the area and thought,
Oh, this is an opportunity
. If I weren’t overwhelmed with the Cookery, Booked for Lunch, and my writing career, I might have stepped up to the plate,” Angelica admitted. There was something odd about the lilt in her voice.
“That’s possible,” Tricia agreed. “I understand they bought the place last fall and have been working on it for the past few months, but I’m not sure they actually own it.”
“If you’re so interested, why don’t you talk to Jon Comfort?”
“Harry Tyler,” Tricia corrected.
“Whatever. Maybe he’s interested in selling now that he’s lost his wife. I mean, he may need the money for his legal defense.”
“Why would I want to talk to the man? He walked out on me.”
Angelica waved a hand in dismissal. “That was over twenty years ago. You’re not still carrying a torch for him, are you?”
“Of course not. But let’s face it, it’s the ultimate snub to walk out on your family, friends,
and
girlfriend, fake your death, and disappear into obscurity.”
“Girlfriend or lover?” Angelica asked, ignoring the last part of Tricia’s sentence.
“Both.”
Angelica’s smile was smug as she shook her head and tsked. “And Daddy always bragged how you were such a
good
girl.”
Tricia gave her sister a sour look. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand. Why was Pippa murdered?”
“I’d say it’s up to the police to figure it out, but knowing you, you’ll
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