TWENTY-ONE

Tricia couldn’t remember a day that wore on as long as that particular Saturday. The Milford Pumpkin Festival really had cut into business. The few customers she’d had that afternoon had regaled her with tales of the Great Pumpkin contest, the pumpkin catapult, the chili roundup, and the scarecrow contest. And oh, the food!

Rats, Tricia thought. Maybe Pammy was right. I always miss out on the fun.

Eleanor had indeed won first prize in the pie contest-Frannie had called back with that update. No doubt the blue ribbon would be framed and hung over her receptionist’s desk at the Brookview Inn by the next morning.

Grace had called with an update about the wedding flowers, thanking Tricia profusely once again for letting them hold the ceremony in the store, and promised she would arrive early the next morning to help coordinate the last-minute details.

The thing Tricia hadn’t been able to accomplish was hiring a cleaning firm. That meant the job was up to her. Oh, well… she tried to think of it as part of her gift to Grace and Mr. Everett. With Mr. Everett in short supply these last few days, the place had become dusty, so she commandeered his lamb’s wool duster and started working on the shelves.

It was ten minutes until closing. Haven’t Got a Clue had had no customers for at least twenty minutes when Tricia glanced at her watch. “Don’t you just hate this time of year?” she asked Ginny.

“Yes. When the sun goes down, it’s like the whole world closes up.”

“I’ve been thinking of adopting winter hours-except between Thanksgiving and Christmas, of course.”

“I would hate to see my hours cut, but you have to do what’s best for the store,” Ginny said sensibly. “Besides, it would give me more time to work on the house. I have this vision of the living room being finished in time for Christmas. I can already imagine a crackling fire in the fireplace, and our stockings hanging from the mantel. That is, if I can find someone to tell me the chimney is safe enough to light a fire.”

Tricia laughed. “We’ll stay open until seven tonight, but depending on how trade is on Monday, we might as well adopt new hours.”

“What about the Tuesday Night Book Club?”

Tricia shrugged. “We might have to start an hour earlier. Hey, dinner at a decent hour. Now there’s a plan.”

Ginny laughed and began her end-of-day chores, emptying the coffeemaker’s filter of grounds, and pouring the last of the coffee down the washroom sink. She was still in the back of the store when the door opened. Eugenia Hirt entered Haven’t Got a Clue, her face dark with anger. “What’s going on, Tricia?”

Tricia had been counting out the day’s receipts, and closed the register’s cash drawer. “I’m not supposed to speak to you or anyone in your family. Direct orders from Captain Baker of the Sheriff’s Department.”

“That’s what my mother said. But something’s going on, and nobody will tell me what it is. Everyone seems to think you know.”

“Captain Baker said-”

“I don’t give a damn what any sheriff’s deputy said. You know, and you will tell me!”

“Are you threatening me?” Tricia asked.

Eugenia threw back her head, standing taller. “Maybe I am.”

Tricia tried not to laugh. “Go home.” She had to fight the urge to say little girl. “Your mother is very upset. See if you can make her feel better.”

“Not until you tell me what was in that diary.”

So, she knew about Pammy’s diary. Had Pammy said something, or had she heard her parents arguing about it?

Before Tricia could answer the girl, the shop door flew open. Eugenia whirled. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Come on, honey. Let’s go home.”

Eugenia shook her head. “I’m not leaving until someone gives me some answers.”

Ginny reappeared from behind a set of shelves. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Tricia and Joe said in unison.

“Ginny, why don’t you go home?” Joe suggested.

Ginny’s face flushed. “Why?”

“Because it looks like Tricia, Eugenia, and I have some serious things to discuss. Things that you don’t need to be a part of.”

Ginny moved to stand next to Tricia. “I don’t think so.”

Tricia was grateful for the support, but her tightening stomach told her that Ginny might be safer if she left the store-now. “Maybe he’s right, Ginny. I think you should-”

“No way,” Ginny said. “I have a few questions of my own. Like why did you try to run Brian’s car off the road the other night, Eugenia?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t. When we left you and Joe in Nashua on Wednesday night, you came up behind us and sat on Brian’s bumper, trying to scare us. Why?”

Eugenia shrugged. “It was a joke. Can’t you take a joke?”

“I didn’t think it was funny,” Ginny said.

“Neither did I,” Tricia agreed.

Joe stepped around to the front display window and grabbed the cord, lowering the blinds. Miss Marple, who’d been dozing on the shelf behind the register, got up and stretched. Closing the blinds was usually the signal that dinner was close at hand.

“Why did you close the blinds?” Tricia asked, unease creeping up her spine.

“We need privacy,” Joe said. “Ginny, get your coat and go.”

“No!”

“I don’t care if she hears our business,” Eugenia said. “I want to know everything that’s going on. I’m an adult. It’s time you leveled with me, Dad. What was it Pammy said to you? Please, tell me!”

Joe sighed, all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “She tried to blackmail me.”

“With what?” Eugenia insisted.

“Pam said if she couldn’t shake down Stuart Paige, she would come after me.”

“But Dad, Pammy threatened to tell the world at large about my… my birth defect. That would humiliate only me. What else could she have possibly known that would hurt our family?”

Tricia said, “Eugenia’s not a child anymore. Tell her, Joe. Libby told me you two have already discussed it.”

“Mom knows what?” Eugenia asked.

Joe offered his daughter his hand. She took it, her own visibly shaking. “Princess, we always told you your biological parents were dead. But that’s only partially true. Your biological mother died in a car accident when you were still a baby, but your father is alive.”

“You know who he is?” she asked, eagerly.

“It’s someone you already know and, hopefully, love.”

“Who? Please tell me!”

“It’s… me.”

Eugenia’s mouth fell open, and for a long time she just stared at the man she’d always known as her adoptive father. “I’m really your little girl?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Your birth mother couldn’t handle your… birth defect. She gave you up for adoption. I wanted you. I talked your mother-Libby,” he clarified, “into taking you in as a foster child. I knew she’d fall in love with you-as I already had, even though I’d only seen you from behind the glass window in the hospital nursery.”

Eugenia shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “But Dad, you and Mom have been married almost twenty-five years. I’m twenty-one… that means…”

Joe bit his lip, and looked like he was about to cry as well.

“I never meant to hurt your mother. It just happened. And the thing was… I got you in the bargain. We both got you, and it kept us together. We loved you as you were-we loved you through all the surgeries. We will always love you.”

They fell into each other’s arms, tears streaking their cheeks. Tricia hardened her heart. This was all very nice, but it didn’t answer who killed Pammy Fredericks.

The door opened, the little bell below the transom tinkling cheerfully.

Ginny whirled. “Brian! What are you doing here?”

He nodded toward Eugenia. “I followed her.”

“Why aren’t you at work?” Ginny asked, suspiciously.

“I’ve got some things to tell you, Ginny. I… kind of lost my evening job.”

“You what?”

“Two weeks ago,” he admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. “And just what have you been doing every work night for the last two weeks?”

“Looking for a new job,” he said, his voice harsh.

“And what else?” Ginny asked, and turned her gaze on Eugenia.

“Okay, so I hung out a few nights with Gina.”

“Gina?” Ginny asked, the color rising in her face. “Is that your pet name for her?”

Joe looked confused. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” Eugenia said.

“Apparently there’s a lot more going on than I thought,” Tricia said.

“Me, too,” Ginny agreed. She turned back to Brian. “And I’d like an explanation.”

Brian walked back to the shop door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and pulled down the door shade. “It might be better if we weren’t disturbed.”

Fear crept up Tricia’s spine. Nothing good would come of this conversation. They might learn the facts of what had happened when Pammy died, but she sensed lives were about to be changed-and not for the better.

Tricia swallowed before she asked her next question. “Who dumped Pammy into the garbage cart?”

“That was me,” Brian admitted, turning to face them once again. “I told her to leave Eugenia alone. I only meant to scare her when I tossed her into the garbage.”

“Did you know about this, Eugenia?” Joe demanded, his voice hard with anger.

“Not at first,” she admitted, and turned her gaze to take in Brian. “I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”

“Who kept calling me, demanding the diary?” Tricia asked.

“I did it,” Eugenia said. “I knew you had to have it. That stinking, evil witch stayed with you for two weeks. I figured since it wasn’t in her car-”

“You broke into her car?” Ginny asked.

“We didn’t have to. Brian took her keys. We drove the car over to Hanson Lane and looked through the trunk, but we didn’t find anything, so we left it there. We figured Pammy would eventually find it. And then she turned up dead, and we were scared.”

“What about the calls?” Tricia reminded her.

“Like I said,” Eugenia continued, “we figured you had to have it, so we drove to Nashua and got one of those voice-altering things for the phone. We figured I wouldn’t get in trouble if I didn’t make any specific threat-and I didn’t.”

“It’s up to the sheriff to decide if you’ve broken any laws.” Tricia turned her attention to Brian. “And it’s up to a grand jury to decide whether Pammy’s death is murder or manslaughter,” she said. “But either way, you’re both in pretty deep trouble.”

“I’m not going to jail,” Brian said, his voice rising. “I’ve always liked you, Tricia, but I’m not about to let you ruin my life.”

“What about my life?” Ginny demanded.

Tricia ignored her. “Brian, your life was ruined the moment you decided to scare Pammy Fredericks. I know you didn’t mean to hurt her-but it’s your fault she’s dead!”

“She was a scumbag. She wanted to ruin people I care about.”

“That may be true, but she didn’t deserve to die.”

“What about me?” Ginny insisted, her eyes filled with tears. “Brian, we own a house together. We’re going to get married.”

He turned his anguished gaze toward Ginny. “Babe, I’m sorry. I never thought I’d care for Eugenia the way I do. I mean, we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. It just… happened.”

Just like it had happened between Joe and M.J., only Libby had never found out.

“And were you going to leave me for Eugenia?” Ginny demanded.

Brian turned away so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I… thought about it.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

Ginny took a few choking breaths-sounding like a fish out of water. “And what happens now that Tricia and I know you’re a murderer?”

The door opened. A breathless Angelica burst in, still dressed in her fifties waitress costume, her feet encased in running shoes. Her eyes were wild with fear. “Are you okay, Trish?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Brian said coldly.

“Run!” Tricia shouted.

But Angelica just stood in the doorway, in shock.

Brian moved fast. In seconds he’d grabbed Angelica’s arm and hauled her farther into the store, slamming the door before shoving her against Tricia.

“What are you doing here?” Tricia grated.

“I saw Joe shut the blinds, and I knew Captain Baker told you not to talk to him.”

“So why didn’t you just call nine-one-one?”

“You two shut up and let me think!” Brian ordered.

“Now what are you going to do?” Ginny demanded. “Throw all three of us into the Dumpster?”

“What’s going on?” Angelica demanded.

Brian thrust his hand into his jacket and came out with a handgun, aiming it at Tricia and Angelica.

Ginny gasped. “Where on God’s Earth did you get that?”

“Brian, think about what you’re doing,” Tricia warned. “What happened with Pammy was an accident. If you fire that gun-”

Joe stepped forward. “Nobody’s firing any guns. Hand it over, kid.”

Brian shook his head. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Tricia’s right. You fire that gun, and that’s the end of life as you know it.”

“You’re one to talk. Eugenia told me you shot at Tricia’s windows. You shot Stuart Paige,” Brian said.

Joe’s head snapped as he turned toward his daughter. “That’s not true! Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Eugenia cried. “I only meant to scare Tricia. If Paige hadn’t moved, he never would’ve been shot.”

“You lied to me,” Brian said to her, angry.

“I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Joe’s face flushed, and he pursed his lips. He looked past his daughter and spoke to Brian. “You’re both already in enough trouble. Enough mistakes have already been made. Don’t make any more, kid.”

Brian stared at the people surrounding him. The gun in his hand wavered.

“How long are we going to stand around like this?” Angelica groused. “Are you going to kill all of us? What will you do with our bodies?”

“Forensics will always nail a killer, Brian,” a grim-faced Ginny piped up. “I learned that reading mysteries and thrillers.”

“Shut up, Ginny! Just shut up!” Brian hollered.

Another tear slid down Ginny’s cheek. “And to think I almost married you.”

“We can’t just stand here all night,” Joe said reasonably.

Tricia swallowed. Sure they could! The best way to defuse the situation was to talk it out, not egg Brian on. But Joe took another step forward. The gun swung in his direction.

“This is insane!” Eugenia shouted. “Brian, what are you doing? Put that gun down. We’ll never be together if you fire that thing.”

“Quiet! Just everyone be quiet.”

Joe shook his head. “I’ve had enough.” He marched forward, his right hand reaching for the gun.

Brian shot him.

Joe staggered and fell to his knees.

Eugenia screamed and jumped forward. “Daddy!”

Mouth open in shock, Brian stared at the gun in his hand.

“Are you all right? Are you all right?” Eugenia screamed, catching her father’s free arm to steady him.

Joe sat back on his heels, his face pale and sweating, his right hand clutching his left side. He took a few ragged breaths. “I think… I think so.”

Angelica swooned, grappling for the cash desk.

As Brian turned to look, Tricia leaped forward. “Ginny, call nine-one-one!” she yelled, and lunged at Brian, knocking the gun from his hand.

It skittered across the carpet. Tricia, Ginny, and Brian all dived after it, scrambling across the floor on their hands and knees, and into the nook. Three hands snatched at it, and the gun was pushed under one of the heavy upholstered chairs.

“Get away! Get away!” Brian shouted.

“Not on your life,” Tricia grated.

Their hands knocked against each other as they fumbled for the gun, but it was Tricia who came up with it. She rolled onto her backside, the gun clasped in both hands, and leveled it at Brian’s chest, the way she’d seen in a hundred TV shows.

He struggled to his knees and laughed at her. “You won’t shoot.”

Her eyes blazed. “Wanna bet?”

“Angelica, call nine-one-one!” Ginny yelled.

The sound of a siren cut the air.

“I did that before I got here,” Angelica said with a smirk.

Ginny pulled herself up with the aid of the chair’s arm. “You could’ve said so.”

“And let this bozo know it? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Brian. Also a pretty clever ruse-me pretending to faint, huh?”

No one commented.

Brian sat in a heap, looking boneless. Joe had been right: life as Brian knew it was now over. The same could be said for Eugenia, too.

The Sheriff’s Department cruiser screeched to a halt in front of Haven’t Got a Clue, and Captain Baker and Deputy Placer spilled from the car. Placer kicked in the door and they sprang inside, their weapons drawn. Baker took in the scene before him: Eugenia crying, Joe bleeding, Angelica and Ginny standing guard, Tricia still flat on her butt on the floor, clutching the gun.

“What the hell?” Baker asked.

“Show’s over, guys,” Tricia said. “But you’re more than welcome to take over.”

Baker holstered his weapon while Placer kept his trained on Brian.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked Tricia, offering his hand.

She looked up into those mesmerizing green eyes. “Taking care of business.” Her grip slackened and she handed him the gun, handle first. Then he helped her up.

She grabbed Baker’s tie, pulling him close, leaned forward, and kissed him hard on the mouth, then pulled back. “You are not Christopher, and you’re definitely not Russ,” she declared.

Startled, Baker stared at her in incomprehension. “What?”

“I just wanted to establish that from the get-go.”

“Whatever,” he said, a flush coloring his cheeks, and he removed her hand from his tie. He cleared his throat. Everyone was looking at the two of them.

It was Tricia’s turn to blush.

“Now, then-what the hell has been going on?”

“I think I’ll put the coffeepot back on,” Ginny said wearily. “This is going to take a lot of explaining.”