Part 22 (1/2)
Oops! Tricia hadn't considered that.
”Are we sure it's a man who made the calls? It could've been a woman. You can get those voice-altering devices at places like Radio Shack,” Tricia said.
”I'll keep an open mind,” Baker said, giving her a wry smile.
Tricia couldn't help but smile as well. Unlike his boss, he had listened to her. At least he hadn't ridiculed her a.s.sumption about Pammy and Stuart Paige.
The ghost of a smile touched Baker's lips. ”What?”
”What, what?” Tricia repeated.
”You're smiling.”
”I am? Oh, I'd better stop, then,” she said, and tried to keep a straight face, but it was impossible. She laughed and realized she probably looked like an idiot. And heavens--what if he thought she was flirting with him?
Good grief, she realized--she was flirting with him. She covered her mouth with her hand, and this time she was able to wipe the smile from her face. She looked up and into his green eyes. Haunting eyes--like her ex-husband's. The man she'd never really gotten over.
”I apologize, Captain Baker. I was thinking about something funny, and this situation is anything but funny.”
”I agree. But there's nothing to apologize for. I'm surprised you're able to keep a sense of humor after what you've been through--not just the death of your friend, but what you've gone through in the past year.”
True enough.
”I've been reading mystery books since I was a little girl. I never, ever expected to know a murder victim, and now I've known three. It's terribly upsetting. Pammy and I weren't close, but we had history together. I'd like her killer to be found and brought to justice.”
”Justice?” Captain Baker asked with a laugh. ”That's not something I see too often in my line of work.”
”But you're a man of the law.”
He sighed. ”Yes.” He looked down at the book in his hands. ”I'd better get back to the office and read this,” he said, reaching for his hat.
”I made a fresh pot of coffee. You could sit in the reader nook. It would at least be quiet--for the next hour, that is.”
”I've got an office with a door. It'll be quiet enough. But thank you.”
Tricia nodded and walked him to the door.
”Unless I have more questions, your part in this investigation is now done. Is that clear?” he said.
”What do you mean?”
”Sheriff Adams doesn't think you'll be content to . . .” He hesitated.
”To mind my own business?”
”I didn't say that.”
”But that's what you were thinking.”
Baker sobered. ”I don't know you very well, Ms. Miles--”
”Tricia,” she insisted.
”But from what I've already seen, you might be as stubborn as a terrier. I wouldn't want you to get hurt pursuing avenues of investigation better left to the Sheriff's Department.”
”I'm flattered you're concerned about my personal safety,” she managed, trying not to bite her tongue.
”It's my job to protect and serve.” His tone was definitely verging on condescending.
She shook her head and pursed her lips. ”You had to go and ruin it, didn't you?”
He looked baffled. ”Ruin what?”
”Here I thought I'd been dealing with a reasonable member of the Sheriff's Department, and you had to revert to being a jerk just like your boss.”
Baker straightened in indignation. ”I--what?”
Tricia pointed toward the door. ”Go. Now. Before we both say something we'll regret.”
Baker opened his mouth to say something, apparently thought better of it, and closed it. He seemed to do that a lot. His grip on the diary tightened. ”Good-bye, Ms. Miles.”
He stalked off to the door, yanked it open, and exited.
n.o.body told Tricia what to do. Not Angelica, not Bob Kelly, and certainly not Captain Baker of the Hillsborough County Sheriff's Department.
The problem was . . . she had no plans to defy him. There were no other avenues she could investigate on her own.
Unless . . . If Baker went directly back to his office to read the diary, she might have time to track down Stuart Paige and ask him about Pammy herself. She hadn't remembered to tell Baker about the envelope Pammy had mailed to Paige.
Tricia glanced out the store's large display window, watching as Baker got into his cruiser. There was still time to flag him down and share that piece of news.
He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, heading north. Should she call him, leave a message about the envelope?
She might have . . . if he hadn't gotten snarky.
Stubborn as a terrier, eh?
What was it Frannie had told her days before--that Paige was staying at the Brookview Inn, just south of the village?
Tricia glanced at her watch, and grimaced. Half an hour before Ginny or Mr. Everett showed up for work. It would take Baker almost half an hour just to get back to his office. She'd still have time to go to the inn and try to talk to Paige. Although if what Frannie had said was true, the inn's receptionist, Eleanor, wasn't likely to help her get in to see the man. Maybe she could bluff her way in.
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all Tricia had.
No matter the season, the Brookview Inn always looked lovely. Since it was October, corn shocks, gourds, and pumpkins decorated the long porch that ran across the front of the white-painted colonial structure. And no smashed jack-o'-lanterns, either. Tricia didn't linger to enjoy the view, however, and jogged up the front steps and through the main entrance.
The parking lot had been full, and the noise coming from the restaurant adjacent to the reception desk told Tricia that some kind of breakfast business meeting was still in session. As usual, Eleanor was seated behind the check-in desk. Trust her to be the most dedicated employee on the face of the planet. Didn't she ever take a potty break?
Before Tricia could make a hasty exit, Eleanor called her name.
”Tricia, it's so good to see you. What's it been, three--four months?”