Miss Marple almost seemed to nod before she set to licking her paw and rubbing her ear, the beginning of yet another prolonged bathing session.
Tricia sighed and closed the store’s copy of Marjorie Allingham’s Death of a Ghost. Even reading didn’t appeal to her right now—she had too much on her mind.
Her attention turned back to the window, just as a uniformed officer stepped out of the Happy Domestic and looked in Haven’t Got a Clue’s direction. Why, it was none other than Captain Baker, whom she hadn’t spoken to in five days. He looked to the right and left for traffic, and then jaywalked across the street, heading her way.
“Looks like we’re about to get some company,” Tricia told Miss Marple, who did not acknowledge the remark but began to lick her stomach.
Out on the sidewalk, Captain Baker removed his high-crowned hat before entering. Tricia wondered if he would grow his hair longer once he left the Sheriff’s Department. It would better suit him than the buzz cut he now wore, she decided.
The shop door opened and Baker entered. “Hello,” he called, looking around the store, apparently not seeing her standing behind the register.
“Over here,” she called.
His head whipped around and he blushed, and then stepped over to the cash desk. “Slow day?” he asked, and nodded toward the lack of customers in the store.
“It won’t be in another hour or so. No offense, but I hope you and your men will be long gone before the next tour bus arrives.”
“They’re finishing up now. Do you have any ideas on who might have broken into the Happy Domestic?”
“Ideas but not a shred of evidence.”
“How about the former manager?” he asked.
“Deborah’s dead. You mean her mother, Elizabeth Crane?” Baker nodded. “She was angry last night when she came to pick up her grandson at the Happy Domestic, but I can’t imagine she’d actually break in and do that kind of damage. Her daughter loved that store and everything in it.”
“And it was sold out from under Mrs. Crane by her sonin-law,” he pointed out.
“I agree David could’ve waited a decent amount of time before doing that. I guess he needed the money for something. But I suspect he’s got an alibi with at least one of the women he’s currently bedding.”
“Is that a touch of anger I hear in your voice?”
Tricia sighed. “This whole situation becomes more tangled every day.” Baker seemed to be waiting for her to say more on the subject. Instead she asked, “When will you talk to Elizabeth?”
“As soon as we track her down. She wasn’t at the number Ginny gave me. I’ll drive by her house. If she’s not there, I’ll have one of my men stake out her home and wait for her to return.”
Tricia nodded. “You did know someone tried to run her down last evening.”
“Yes, Deputy Placer informed me. Did you see what happened?”
Tricia shook her head. “I found Elizabeth lying on the sidewalk, and the car speeding away.”
He nodded.
There didn’t seem to be much more to say on the subject.
Baker cleared his throat. “Uh, have you given any thought to our discussion the other night?”
“Quite a bit, actually,” Tricia said. That was putting it mildly. It was among the many topics that had kept her awake these last few nights. “I still think it’s unfair of you. You want all the perks of a loving relationship without the commitment.”
“That’s not what I proposed,” he said, sounding hurt.
Tricia forced a laugh. “No, you made it quite clear that a proposal was never going to be part of the deal.”
Baker frowned. “What are you talking about? I thought we could be friends—hang out together. Have some fun.”
“Yeah, and then you’d leave.”
“I never said I’d definitely be leaving, just that it was a possibility.”
“Has that changed?” Tricia asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve been offered a job here in southern New Hampshire. I’ll probably relocate, but I anticipate moving closer to you—not farther away.”
Tricia blinked in surprise. “When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“And what was your answer?” she asked.
Baker straightened. “I accepted the job. I’ll be sworn in on January first.”
“That’s four months away.”
“I’m committed to the Sheriff’s Department until December thirty-first, and there are other obstacles that have to be cleared before the job becomes available. Plus it gives me time to put my house up for sale and find somewhere else to live. It ends up being perfect timing for me.”
“What does this mean for us?” she asked.
“I was hoping you’d sound a little more enthusiastic about my new situation.”
Tricia sighed. “I’d be willing to work at that.”
Baker smiled. She liked the way his eyes lit up when that happened. “I should have a lot more free time in my next position.”
“Weekends off?” Tricia asked.
“That depends on how many officers they hire to keep the peace.”
“Will you have a say in that?”
Baker moved closer—much, much closer. “I sure hope so.”
Tricia smiled and Baker jerked forward, planting a tentative kiss on her lips. He pulled back, as though to gauge her reaction.
She smiled. “I’d thought about not replacing Ginny. But now . . . I might need to delegate authority here at Haven’t Got a Clue . . . if I’m going to be spending more time off, too.”
“Yow!” Miss Marple seconded, and the two of them laughed.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. Would you be willing to help me find a place to live—somewhere between here and Nashua?”
“House hunting,” Tricia repeated, warming to the idea.
Baker nodded.
“Sounds like fun.”
He edged closer again. “Mandy took most of our furniture. Maybe you could help me pick out some new stuff.”
Tricia could feel the heat of his body. She leaned in closer for another kiss, and the door rattled, startling her so she jumped back. A couple of women entered the store and Baker settled his hat back on his head. He cleared his throat.
“And just remember, Ms. Miles—safety first.”
Tricia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I’ll do that.”
“I’ll call you later,” Baker whispered, did a smart about-face, and headed for the door.
Tricia couldn’t help but smile, her gaze lingering on the door long after he’d left.
The much-anticipated tourist bus arrived, and all too soon departed. Tricia barely had time to wait on the ten or so customers who’d patronized her store before the bus was outside, its driver hammering on the horn to get them moving. By the time the crowd had dispersed, it was well after three o’clock.
Tricia was tidying the cash desk when Mr. Everett returned. His moustache was beginning to fill in, even though he’d only been growing it a few days. Sadly, it would never rival the magnificent Magnum moustache, but she supposed he could dream.
“Ginny has sent me over to relieve you for a lunch break.”
“Thank you, Mr. Everett. Everything cleaned up over there now?”
He nodded. “Mr. Barbero arrived and had Ginny order more display shelving. It should arrive by tomorrow morning. She’ll also be getting some new stock shipped overnight. By tomorrow, no one should be able to tell the place was ransacked.”
“I’m so glad. It was a terrible thing to happen Ginny’s second day on the job.”
“Yes, but she’s handling it well. I think she’ll be a grand success.” He beamed with grandfatherly pride. “But now, it’s time you were off for your lunch. I’ll just go get my apron,” he said, and tottered off to the back of the store.
By the time he returned, Tricia had gathered her purse and petted Miss Marple good-bye. With a wave of her hand, she was out the door. As she waited for traffic to abate, she noticed Ray’s roach coach was parked outside the village square. Something different about the truck captured her attention. The chrome doors were just as shiny as ever, but now the back of the truck bore colorful vinyl graphics proclaiming EAT LUNCH and, under that, the words A DIVISION OF NIGELA RICITA ASSOCIATES. Was there no business in the village that Antonio and his employer wouldn’t soon have their fingers in?