Rod had been Angelica’s husband number one.
“Paige was so consumed with guilt, he practically became a monk,” Angelica continued. “And he’s spent the rest of his life doing good deeds.”
“Good deeds?” Tricia asked skeptically, poking at the lettuce on her plate.
“Oh, you know what I mean. He’s made giving away his family’s fortune into a lifestyle.”
Tricia vaguely remembered the story, which hadn’t fazed her at the time and had obviously had no lasting impact on her, either. Although it was refreshing to know the former bad boy had had a personality turnaround.
Thinking about Paige reminded Tricia about Pammy. “I may as well tell you; I asked Pammy to leave this morning. I mean, two weeks was way too long for a drop-in visit.”
“And?” Angelica drew out the word.
“She seemed okay with it. She also put in applications around the village listing me as her last employer.”
“Really.” It wasn’t a question.
“Pammy also showed up at the Food Shelf’s dedication.”
“No!”
“Yes. She was hauled off and asked to leave.”
“Why?”
Tricia shrugged. “I don’t know. The last I saw her, she was walking back to the village. She’d apparently been trying to talk to Mr. Paige.”
“Is that so?” Angelica said thoughtfully. She glanced at the clock above her work space, then stretched her neck to look back through the swinging half-doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area. She sighed. “My goodness, my new hire’s been on her break a long time.”
Tricia pushed aside the orange-slice garnish on her plate.
Angelica sighed and again glanced at the clock. “It may have been a mistake to take on my new hire. It’s… it’s…” She stammered. “Oh, I may as well just tell you. I hired Pammy.”
Tricia nearly choked on her tuna. “You what?” she spluttered, and started choking.
Angelica clumped around the counter in her black high-heeled shoes to slap Tricia on the back. “Do you need me to do the Heimlich maneuver? I learned how to do it properly at my county-sponsored safety course, you know.”
Tricia pounded on her chest, and then took a sip of her cooling cocoa to help control the urge to cough. “Why on earth did you hire Pammy?”
“I felt sorry for her, what with you throwing her out and all.”
“I did not throw her out!” Tricia took another sip of her cocoa. “I simply asked her to leave, and she agreed it was past time.”
“Really.” Again, it wasn’t a question.
Tricia took in her sister’s guilty expression. “What did she tell you?”
“Not much. But when she spoke about it, she sounded quite wounded.” And Angelica sounded quite judgmental. Trust Angelica to take someone’s-anyone’s-side against her.
Tricia glared at her sister for a long moment before returning to her lunch.
“Why don’t you go out back and apologize to Pammy? I’m sure she’d forgive you. And it wouldn’t hurt to let her come back and stay with you for a few more days-just until she gets settled.”
“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” Tricia said, viciously stabbing a chunk of tuna. “And I do not want her staying with me for even one more night. You’ve got just as much room in your apartment-she can stay with you, if you’re that worried about her.”
Angelica ignored the suggestion. “Well, then, just go talk to her. You two have been friends for way too many years to just throw it all away.”
Would she feel that way if Tricia told her about the stolen check?
“I’d seen her maybe three times in the last eighteen years, before she camped out in my living room for two weeks, so it’s not like we’ve been close.”
“Yes, but it’s important to maintain old friendships-especially as we age.”
Tricia eyed her sister’s getup; she looked like she was more than two weeks early for Halloween-hardly an example of aging gracefully. Angelica had added on years, but her outlook hadn’t caught up with the inevitable march of time.
Angelica nudged Tricia’s arm. “Go on. And while you’re out there, you can see if they’ve delivered my one-and-a-half-yard Dumpster. It was supposed to arrive by this afternoon-two weeks late.”
“I don’t want to go out there at all.”
“Tricia,” Angelica said, using the same tone of voice their mother had employed when she’d tried to shame the girls into doing something she wanted.
“What?”
“Go out there and make nice with Pammy while I call my soda distributor. I think they shorted me by a case. I’m going to need it for tomorrow’s crowd. Now, where did I put the business card with their phone number?” she said, and crouched down to search the shelf under the counter.
“Okay, I’m going. But when I get back, I’m going to finish my lunch and then I’m going back to work.”
“Of course, of course,” Angelica muttered, her voice muffled as she leaned further under the counter.
Tricia sidled past the lunch counter and pushed through the swinging half-doors into the narrow kitchen. For a short-order cook, Jake was fairly temperamental. Angelica had complained that he’d often leave without fully cleaning his work space. As expected, he was already gone for the day and had left the place a mess of unwashed pots and pans. Angelica, or more likely Pammy, had her work cut out for her.
The door to the back alley was closed. Tricia opened it and stepped onto the concrete pad. It was obvious no Dumpster had yet been delivered. Nestled close to the building were two large gray, bulging ninety-five-gallon trash carts. Sticking out of one of them was a pair of jeans-clad legs, with a worn pair of pink Crocs on the feet.
THREE
Yet another white-and-gold Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department car pulled up outside Booked for Lunch. A tall, sandy-haired man got out of the driver’s side, then stooped down to grab his flat-brimmed Mounties hat, settled it on his head, and marched purposefully toward the café. Distracted, Tricia watched him as he paused outside the entrance and then spoke to one of the other deputies for several minutes. By the number of bars on his uniform sleeve, he outranked all the other officials on the scene. Finally, the deputy pointed at the café.
The newcomer nodded his thanks, opened the café’s door, and stepped inside. He bypassed everyone else, making a beeline for Tricia. “I’m Captain Grant Baker, and I’ll be handling this investigation. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Ms. Miles.”
“Where’s Sheriff Adams?” Tricia asked.
“Busy, I’m afraid. I hope you won’t mind dealing with me.”
Tricia found herself drawn to Baker’s green eyes. Her ex-husband, Christopher, had green eyes. That relationship hadn’t worked out, and-
Tricia shook her head to rid herself of the flood of memories that threatened to engulf her.
“No. Not at all,” she found herself saying. Any time she didn’t have to deal with Sheriff Wendy Adams was worth celebrating. They’d had run-ins before, and those experiences were not ranked among those Tricia cherished.
Baker glanced around Booked for Lunch, his gaze settling on Angelica, who perched on the end of one of the booths’ bench seats; a high-heeled shoe discarded on the floor, she was massaging her left foot as she conversed with another deputy. “I understand this isn’t your first encounter with the law here in Stoneham,” Baker said to Tricia.
She frowned. “Uh, no.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Are you okay, ma’am? You look a little pale. Would you like to sit down?”
“No, thank you.” Tricia studied his kind face, and her frown deepened. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Sheriff Adams-”
“Ah.” He nodded. “The sheriff explained there’d been some conflict between the two of you. That’s why she suggested I handle this investigation.”