A Fatal Chapter

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Lorna Barrett

MURDER
IS
BINDING

BOOKMARKED
FOR
DEATH

BOOKPLATE
SPECIAL

CHAPTER
&
HEARSE

SENTENCED
TO
DEATH

MURDER
ON
THE
HALF
SHELF

NOT
THE
KILLING
TYPE

BOOK
CLUBBED

A
FATAL
CHAPTER

Anthologies

MURDER IN THREE VO
LUMES

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of the Berkley Publishing Group.

Copyright © 2015 by Penguin Random House LLC.

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-63729-6

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Barrett, Lorna.

A fatal chapter / Lorna Barrett.—First edition.

pages ; cm

ISBN 978-0-425-25266-6

I. Title.

PS3602.A83955F38 2015

813'.6—dc23

2014049829

FIRST EDITI
ON:
June 2015

Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.

Cover design by Diana Kolsky.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

Writers live in isolation. That’s how we work. But sometimes we need the companionship of others to help us write our books, and these days that most often comes via the Internet.

I’m so lucky to be a member of the Cozy Chicks blog. We’re a group of eight cozy mystery authors who talk about our lives, our writing, and everything in between, and share it with you, our readers. We are: Ellery Adams, Duffy Brown, Kate Collins, Mary Kennedy, Mary Jane Maffini, Maggie Sefton, and Leann Sweeney. Check us out at cozychicksblog.com.

As always, I’m grateful to have a wonderful editor in Tom Colgan, and my agent, Jessica Faust, is always there with help on the business side of things. They, too, are just an e-mail away.

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Happy reading!

“Say cheese,”
Russ Smith called, and Tricia Miles watched as her sister, Angelica, and Pete Renquist dutifully smiled for the camera. They stood at the north end of the Baxter Building, a three-story brick edifice that housed By Hook or By Book, Stoneham’s crafty book-and-craft shop. Its owner, Mary Fairchild, stood to one side, waiting her turn to grin for posterity.

Pete kept his gaze on Tricia and not the camera, waggling his eyebrows, smiling, and winking at her. After interacting with him for the past few months, she knew not to take him too seriously. Although he had a glib tongue, she knew he was all talk and no action. Still, his charm won out and she couldn’t help but like him.

The camera clicked as Russ took another shot. Angelica posed à la Vanna White, showcasing a gilded plaque that proclaimed the year the building had been constructed, 1842, and that it had been presented by the Stoneham Historical Society, which Pete, its current
president, represented. Eventually all the historic structures in the village would sport such plaques—but as the oldest structure along Main Street, the Baxter Building had the honor of being first.

What seemed odd about this gathering was that the building’s owner, Bob Kelly, who had never missed an opportunity to toot his own horn, was not present. As far as Tricia knew, he’d been invited, but perhaps because his former lover Angelica, who now also possessed his former position as head of the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce, was present, he’d chosen not to attend. It was just as well. Lately Bob had become an even bigger pain in the butt than usual.

Since the fire at Tricia’s mystery bookstore, Haven’t Got a Clue, almost seven months before, Bob had been pressuring Tricia to buy the building, something she’d be quite happy to do—if the price was right. Bob was asking for much more than Tricia wanted to pay. Of course, for months she’d been paying rent on a building she could neither use nor live in while she waited for the insurance company to decide what they’d pay toward her losses. Angelica had rented out the top floor of the Chamber’s new home to Tricia for a modest fee, since Tricia, who had nothing better to occupy her time, found herself working for the Chamber as an unpaid volunteer.

“Let’s get Mary in the shot,” Russ called, his eyes suddenly visible above the viewfinder and flash on his Nikon.

Tricia moved aside to let Mary slide into position.

“Say cheese,” Russ called again.

“Enough with the cheese,” Angelica chided, and then cheerfully called out, “Whiskey!”

Tricia smiled, but then her gaze shifted as she caught sight of Selectman Earl Winkler, a cranky older gentleman with his hair styled in a brush cut and a mouth that never seemed to sport a smile. His perpetually sour
disposition gave one reason to suppose that perhaps his diet lacked the necessary fiber for a happy life. His profession was vermin extermination, which somehow seemed to suit his negative outlook on life. How he had ever gotten elected was a mystery to Tricia, since Earl was a bundle of negativity. Of course, there was a whole contingent of local residents who weren’t happy with all the changes that had come to Stoneham since Bob had brought a shot of prosperity back to the once-dying village. They cursed the increased traffic, the tour busses, and the rise in property taxes that good fortune had brought. They were also peeved by the acts of serious crime that had increased within the village’s boundaries and had cost Stoneham its former title of Safest Village in New Hampshire—and they blamed Tricia for that. It was her misfortune to have either been present at the time of the crimes or nearby. That bad luck had also earned her the despised title of Village Jinx.

The sun disappeared behind a big fluffy cloud just as Earl halted beside Russ and stood, hands on hips, scowling.

“Good morning, Earl. Come to have your photo splashed across the next issue of the
Stoneham Weekly News
?” Angelica asked, her voice sickeningly sweet. Tricia took a step back. She knew to watch her back when she heard that tone of voice, for Angelica only used it on people she could barely stand.

“Hardly,” Earl answered. “I have more self-respect than the rest of you publicity hounds.”

“Oh, come now, Earl. All of us who’ve attended town meetings know how much you love the sound of your own voice,” Pete said. He was no fan of Earl, either.

“You’re blocking the sidewalk, which is against the law,” Earl asserted.

Angelica’s eyes narrowed. Tricia took another step back. “There is no one around—except you, and we will happily stand aside while you pass.”

“I’m not going in that direction,” Earl declared.

“Then why are you here? Did you need to speak to one of us?” Pete asked rather sharply.

“No. I just wanted to encourage you to hurry up and clear the sidewalk for pedestrian traffic.”

Russ replaced the lens cap on his camera. “I think I’ve got enough for the paper, although I may come back later in the day when the sun will make the gold leaf on that sign glow.”

Earl turned his angry glare on Tricia. “And what are
you
doing here anyway?”

“I’m a resident of Stoneham. I don’t have to have a reason to stand on the sidewalk at any time of the day or night,” Tricia said politely.

“Don’t get snippy with me, young woman,” Earl warned.

Before Tricia could defend herself, Angelica, bristling with indignation, stepped forward. “Please don’t speak to my sister in that tone of voice.”

Tricia reached out to touch Angelica’s arm. “Ange, don’t bother—”

“You’re a bully, Earl Winkler,” Pete accused. “You may now be just a skinny runt, but from what I hear you haven’t changed your ways since you were a schoolboy.”

Earl glared at Pete. “That sounds like slander to me.”

“I hear tell that in the past you operated with questionable business practices—what some might even say were highly unethical.”

Earl’s eyes blazed while the rest of them stood there in stunned silence. “Lies—all lies by my competition. In all the years I’ve been in business, I’ve never been taken to court,” Earl grated.

“And that was a mistake made by far too many of Stoneham’s honest businessmen,” Pete asserted.

“Now, now,” Russ said, spreading his arms and patting the air in a gesture of peace, for which Tricia was grateful.

“Ange, we need to move on,” Tricia told her sister, hoping to further deflate the tension. “You’ve got a meeting in Manchester later today, and you have a lot to accomplish before you leave.”

“And I need to check my messages,” Russ said.

“Any sign that baby is on the way?” Mary asked. She’d knitted the most adorable outfits in shades of blue for Russ and his wife Nikki’s first child. They’d decided they wanted to know their baby’s gender and had selected boy-friendly colors for the baby’s nursery.

“About a week or two,” Russ said. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

“Ha! That’s what you think,” Pete said, and laughed. “Once the baby arrives, your life will never be the same. I speak from experience.”

Oh? Tricia knew Pete lived alone, yet in all their conversations he’d never mentioned his living situation. Did he get cards on Father’s Day from his offspring?

Earl’s face twisted with anger. “If you people are finished with your business and gossip, you should just move along.”

“Oh, you are a party pooper,” Mary said, and turned to enter her store. “See you later,” she called to the others.

Since the rest of the group was all heading in the same direction, they turned en masse and headed up the sidewalk with Earl following a few steps behind—and, truth be told, not
enough
steps behind, as he was obviously trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Angelica, I’d like to formalize plans for the Chamber’s sponsorship of the upcoming ghost walks. Will you be available to talk later this afternoon?”

“’Fraid not, Pete. I’ve got a networking session with other Chamber
presidents in Manchester this afternoon. But I could pencil you in for tomorrow morning.”

“Great. How about ten o’clock?”

“Make it eleven. I’ve got a grand opening to attend at ten, but after that I’m free. Come to the Chamber office, and I’ll have coffee and warm muffins waiting.”

“I’ll be there,” Pete said, and grinned.

“It’s desecration,” Earl said from behind them. Pete stopped dead, and Earl nearly ran into him.

“What is?” Pete demanded, sudden anger flushing his face.

“People traipsing across the cemetery looking to be entertained. It’s hallowed ground. The dead deserve respect.”

“The cemetery can’t support itself. The money the ghost walks bring in will help with the property’s maintenance. Of course, they wouldn’t have to worry about fund-raisers if one of the village’s selectmen hadn’t instigated a vote to kill their funding.”

“The property needs to be self-sustaining,” Earl very nearly shouted.

“That’s hard to do when all its clients are
dead
—and some for hundreds of years,” Pete pointed out.

“Please, gentlemen,” Russ said, again playing peacemaker. “Why don’t you take this up in an interview in the
Stoneham Weekly News
? It would be a great forum for you both to get your points across to the rest of the villagers.”

“I’m game,” Pete said, squaring his shoulders.

“I’m not so sure,” Earl hedged. “I’d want to see a draft of the piece before you print it.”

Russ shook his head. “There’s such a thing as freedom of the press.”

“If Earl won’t talk to you, I’d be glad to do so anytime you want,” Pete offered.

“How about later this afternoon?”

“Four o’clock?” Pete suggested.

“Great. Do you want to join us, Earl?” Russ asked, pointedly staring at the Selectman.

“No,” Earl barked, then stormed off down the sidewalk.

Angelica sighed. “He’s not the nicest man in the world.”

“Come on, Ange. You’ve got a lot to accomplish before your meeting later this morning,” Tricia said.

“You’re right, Trish.” Angelica turned to the others. “Pete, Russ, it’s been a pleasure.” Tricia nodded a good-bye to the others, and she and Angelica jaywalked across the quiet street, which they hoped would be full of cars and tour busses within the hour.

“That Earl,” Angelica grated as they headed for the Chamber’s office. “He’s as likable as the Wicked Witch of the West. He ought to be careful, or someone might want to drop a house on him!”

“I think Pete might agree,” Tricia said, trying to suppress a grin, “but don’t let Earl bother you. Most of the Board of Selectmen are on the side of village development, and they’re in our court.”

Angelica stopped suddenly, her frown turning upside down. “You said
our
court.”

Tricia smiled. “I did, didn’t I? Well, Stoneham is my home, and I want to see it prosper.”

Angelica positively grinned. “I’m going to miss you once you go back to running Haven’t Got a Clue. You know, you could do the same as me; let Pixie and Mr. Everett manage it while you do other things, like—”

But Tricia shook her head. “No. Playing office at the Chamber these past few months has been fun, but I want to go
home
! I want my old life back—and the sooner the better.”

“Well, I can dream, can’t I?” Angelica said wistfully.

“Dream on,” Tricia said, and laughed.

Tricia and Angelica returned to the neat little building that housed the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce and were joyfully greeted by Angelica’s bichon frise, Sarge. “Was Mommy’s little boy the best ever?” she asked as Sarge bounded up and down as though on springs.

Mariana Sommers, the Chamber’s receptionist, laughed from her desk in the heart of the office—what had once been a living room. “As good as gold.”

Back in February, the building had been just a shabby little house, but with some serious elbow grease in the way of paint, sanded floors, new shutters, and window boxes filled with petunias, it now looked like a darling little cottage. It was a shame that the building would probably be razed in another year when Nigela Ricita Associates, the development company that owned it, would replace it with a brick commercial building more in keeping with Stoneham’s past. Still, despite it being only her temporary home, Tricia had come to enjoy living there.

Her quarters consisted of a bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a sitting room on the upper level, and until she could go back to her own home, she was making the best of things. Since she had escaped the fire with only the clothes on her back and her cat, she’d had to start from scratch. A bed and a bookcase had been her first purchases. And she’d been steadily filling the bookcase with copies of her favorite mysteries.

Goodness only knew how much longer the insurance company was going to take to finish their investigation. What investigation? An angry man had dropped a lighted piece of paper on a vintage (and highly flammable) doll carriage and torched the first floor. Why was it taking so long to make the logical conclusion and pay up?

Once Sarge was rewarded with a rawhide stick, the sisters separated. Angelica checked in with Mariana while Tricia headed to her own desk. For the time being, she was acting as the Chamber’s office manager. She didn’t mind the work, but she missed her store. She missed interacting with her employees on a daily basis. She missed her
life
!