Not the Killing Type Read online

  Not the Killing Type

  Booktown Mystery [7]

  Lorna Barrett

  Penguin Group US (2012)

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  Stoneham, New Hampshire, was a dying town until community leaders invited booksellers to open up shop. Now, its streets are lined with bookstores - and paved with murder…

  Murder is Binding: When she opened her mystery bookstore, city slicker Tricia Miles met friendly competition. But when she finds Doris Gleason killed by a carving knife, the atmosphere seems more cutthroat than cordial. Someone wanted to get their hands on Doris’ rare cookbook - and the locals think that someone is Tricia.

  Bookmarked for Death: To celebrate her bookstore’s anniversary, Tricia hosts a book signing for bestselling author Zoe Carter. But the event takes a terrible turn when the author is found dead in the washroom. With both police and reporters demanding the real story, Tricia will have to take matters into her own hands and read between the lines.

  Bookplate Special: After weeks of putting up with her uninvited college roommate Pammy Fredricks, Tricia finally gets fed up and kicks her out. But when Pammy is later found dead in the trash cart, Tricia will need to dive in head-first if she wants to solve the case.

  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

  Anthologies

  MURDER IN THREE VOLUMES

  NOT THE KILLING TYPE

  Lorna Barrett

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

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

  Copyright © 2013 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The Edgar® name is a registered service mark of the Mystery Writers of America, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62452-4

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Barrett, Lorna.

  Not the killing type / Lorna Barrett.—First Edition.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-0-425-25222-2

  1. Miles, Tricia (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Women booksellers—Fiction. 3. Murder—Fiction. 4. New Hampshire—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3602.A83955N68 2013

  813’.6—dc23 2013009624

  FIRST EDITION: July 2013

  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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  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.

  Contents

  Also by Lorna Barrett

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ANGELICA’S RECIPES

  For Deb Baker, who made all this possible

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A writer’s life can be quite lonely, but not when your friends are just an e-mail away. I couldn’t get through the day without my staunchest supporters Jennifer Stanley and Leann Sweeney, who keep me on an even keel, even as we race to see who will finish her manuscript first. Those daily word count tallies keep us all honest.

  Another form of camaraderie comes from my pals at the Cozy Chicks blog: Ellery Adams, Deb Baker, Heather Blake, Julie Hyzy, Kate Collins, Maggie Sefton, and Leann Sweeney. (Look for us online: CozyChicksblog.com)

  Pat Remick is always cheerfully ready to help me when I need to verify my New Hampshire facts. Thanks for all the local color, Pat.

  Always in the background, but ready to help when called upon, are my editor, Tom Colgan; his assistant, Amanda Ng; and my agent, Jessica Faust. Thanks for being there.

  I love receiving notes from readers, and try to answer every one. If you haven’t already checked out my website, I hope you will. It contains all kinds of interesting facts and other information on the Booktown Mysteries, as well as some of Angelica’s most-requested recipes: www.LornaBarrett.com. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest, too!

  Happy reading!

  ONE

  “Can I freshen up your coffee?” Darlene Boyle, one of the Brookview Inn’s waitresses, eagerly asked, brandishing the polished chrome pot over the linen-clad table.

  Tricia Miles looked up from her crumb-scattered place setting. “No, thank you,” she said and put a hand over her cup, just in case Darlene decided to pour anyway. The truth was she’d had more than enough coffee, but she didn’t think she could make a discreet exit for the ladies’ room—not with her eagle-eyed sister, Angelica, sitting next to her. But Angelica’s attention was focused on the front of the dining room—as it had been during the entire Stoneham Chamber of Commerce breakfast.

  Tricia had other company at the table for six—her former assistant, Ginny Wilson; and Michele Fowler, the manager of Stoneham’s newest enterprise, the Dog-Eared Page, a cozy pub on Stoneham’s Main Street. Still, they’d all run out of polite chitchat, and boredom now reigned. Darlene represented a new conversational victim.

  “How’s that son of yours?” Tricia asked.

  Darlene positively glowed. “Now that he’s been nominated by our local congressman, he’s just put in the paperwork for the Naval Academy. He refuses to even consider any other college. I don’t know what he’ll do if he’s not accepted.”

  That seemed unlikely. Mark Boyle was Stoneham High’s pride and joy. He’d won every scholastic prize he’d gone after, and scholarship opportunities abounded, much to his singlemom’s relief. But all seventeen-year-old Mark could ever talk about was the Naval Academy. The kid was motivated to earn what he could toward his schooling. Summers he was employed at the Brookview, lifting, carr
ying, hauling garbage—whatever needed doing—and Tricia had never seen such a hardworking young man.

  “Anybody else want coffee?” Darlene asked, but the others shook their heads and fidgeted in their seats. Smiling, she moved on to the next table, was likewise rebuffed, and retreated to the coffee station at the side of the room to set down the pot and join her colleagues, who were also waiting for the meeting to begin. Or rather, they waited for the meeting to finish so they could ready the room for the inn’s lunch crowd. Chubby and cheerful Henry Dawson—a fixture at the Brookview Inn, and nearly as old as Tricia’s part-time employee, Mr. Everett—greeted her with a smile, as did Ginny’s fiancé, Antonio Barbero, who managed the inn for Nigela Ricita Associates.

  The noise level in the room was as high as Tricia had ever heard. The November meeting was always well attended, and this one was no different. She didn’t even recognize half the members, many of whom owned businesses that contributed nothing to Stoneham’s reputation as a book town. Doctors, dentists, day care centers, a pizza parlor, and more.

  Tricia turned back to her tablemates. Angelica sighed, both bored and agitated. “When is he going to make the announcement?” she grated under her breath. The who was Angelica’s former beau, Bob Kelly, president of the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce. The what was the annual Chamber election.

  “Who knows?” Tricia made to get up, but Angelica’s arm swung out to grab her, holding her firmly in her seat.

  “You can’t miss this.”

  “You’ve been saying that for half an hour. Nature is calling, and I must listen,” Tricia said, but Angelica didn’t let go. Meanwhile, Bob was too busy gabbing, laughing, and generally enjoying himself to move the monthly breakfast meeting along.

  “It looks like I’m going to have to make a real show of leadership and take matters into my own hands.” Angelica grabbed her water glass and a spoon, stood, and tapped on the glass. It took more than a minute for the noisy room to quiet down, but soon enough every eye was fixed on her. She wasn’t hard to look at. Dressed in a black blazer and slacks, white turtleneck, with a necklace of jet beads, she looked authoritative but approachable. Angelica took great care of her skin and applied only as much makeup as was necessary. She’d also recently gone back to a shorter hairstyle and, with freshened highlights, looked younger than her forty-seven years.

  Bob Kelly also stood and moved to the lectern, sudden annoyance creasing his brow. “Was there something you wanted to ask?” he inquired tersely. A year before he wouldn’t have been so brusque. A year before his relationship with Angelica had been of a romantic nature. That was before he cheated on her. The phrase “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” certainly applied to Angelica, who’d previously been cheated on by four husbands. And she was about to drop yet another bomb on Bob.

  “This is November,” Angelica reminded him. “Time for the annual election for Chamber of Commerce president.”

  All eyes turned toward Bob. He waved her comment aside. “Yes, and I’m very pleased to serve the Chamber for—what is it? The eleventh year now?” He laughed, but nobody in the audience joined him. “Now, did anyone else have a concern?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Kelly,” Angelica said, and there was ire in her gaze. The members turned their heads toward her. “But you can’t be elected for a twelfth term if we haven’t had an opportunity to vote.”

  Bob laughed. “Yes, of course you’re right. Now since I’m running unopposed—”

  The heads turned back to Bob. Tricia began to feel like a spectator at a tennis match.

  “How do you know you’re running unopposed if you haven’t opened the floor for nominations?” Angelica asked. Everyone looked back to Bob, who appeared positively shocked at the idea that someone would actually run against him for the job. He had a poor—or was it a selective?—memory. Angelica had told him she intended to do just that some three months before.

  “Well, as a formality,” he said, backpedaling. “I open the floor for nominations.”

  Tricia knew her cue when it came. “I nominate Angelica Miles,” she said. There was a gasp from those assembled, as all eyes turned to take in the sisters.

  “But-but,” Bob stammered.

  Angelica’s smile was positively evil. “Talk about gobsmacked,” she muttered.

  “I’ll second that,” Ginny called out. Good old Ginny. Of course, she’d been in on the plan, as well. She’d been Tricia’s assistant at her mystery bookstore, Haven’t Got a Clue, for over two years until several months before when Ginny had been offered the manager’s job at the Happy Domestic, a charming little shop filled with home décor accessories and books pertaining to that same subject.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tricia saw another figure stand. “I’d like to nominate myself, if that’s all right.”

  Tricia, Angelica, and Ginny turned in unison to take in the man. Stan Berry was known around the village as “the sign man.” He had a shop in his garage over on Oak Street. He always wore flannel shirts and jeans, and as he rarely ever spoke at Chamber meetings, nominating himself for Chamber president took everyone by surprise.

  “I’ll second that,” said John Marcella, owner of the convenience store up on the highway.

  It was Angelica’s turn to look gobsmacked. She had figured she could easily defeat Bob, who was not universally loved by the booksellers. He owned most of the real estate on Main Street and, during the past few years, had inflated the price of the leases to the point of forcing some of the merchants out of business.

  “Well-well,” Bob stammered. If he’d been shocked by one person challenging his iron-fisted control of the Chamber, two absolutely blew him away. He stood there, mouth open—speechless.

  “What’s the protocol in situations like this?” asked Nikki Brimfield, owner of Stoneham’s bakery, the Patisserie.

  Everyone looked back at Bob. “Uh … we’ve never had a situation like this,” he admitted. “I’ll have to consult the Chamber’s charter and get back to …”

  “According to the charter,” Angelica said, and all eyes turned back to look at her once again, “the nominees must be given time to state their qualifications for the job before the voting commences.”

  Tricia clenched her teeth and rubbed her aching neck, hoping the speechmaking wasn’t going to turn into long-winded harangues. When he got going, Bob was difficult to silence, and Angelica was just as fond of singing her own praises. Stan was the wild card. Tricia crossed her legs and raised her hand. “Perhaps we could take a short recess before that happens.”

  “No, let’s get it over with,” said Alexa Koslov, one half of the married couple who owned the Coffee Bean, the only place in town to get piping-hot espresso and other gourmet coffees. “I’ve got to get back to my shop.”

  “I’ll second that,” said Glenn Baker, owner of Baker Funeral Home. “I’ve got two showings this afternoon.”

  Bob seemed seized by indecision. Apparently he’d never even given a moment’s thought to the idea that he could be replaced as Chamber president before the meeting’s end. “Well … I guess so. Let’s hear from you, Stan.”

  “Whatever happened to ladies first?” Angelica groused.

  Again the audience turned as one as Stan stood once more, this time looking a lot more formidable. “The current leadership of the Chamber of Commerce has been serving our community for more than a decade. In that time it has vastly favored the booksellers, a minority of its members, over the rest of the organization. It’s about time that changed. If you vote for me, I’ll see that each and every business member has equal representation.”

  Enthusiastic applause followed. Angelica gave Tricia a worried look. “He still hasn’t told us his qualifications,” she muttered, channeling some great ventriloquist. She never even moved her lips.

  Once the noise had died down, Nikki Brimfield raised her hand. Berry called on her. “That’s a great platform, Stan. But have you ever held any kind of leadership role before?”

  Stan no
dded. “I own my own business. Isn’t that leadership enough?”

  Nikki frowned, but others in the audience again applauded. Tricia wasn’t sure if she could count on Nikki to vote for Angelica. Since she became engaged to Tricia’s former lover, Russ Smith, Nikki seemed threatened by Tricia’s presence. And although Tricia had been seeing someone else off and on for more than a year, Nikki’s jealousy hadn’t abated.

  Stan hadn’t answered Nikki’s question. His was a one-man business. Had he ever managed a workforce—or even one employee?

  Michele Fowler, manager of Stoneham’s newly opened pub, the Dog-Eared Page, raised her hand, but Stan ignored her and instead acknowledged John Marcella.

  “What can we hope to see once you’re our Chamber president?”

  Stan seemed to stand a little taller. “The first thing I’ll do is reduce the membership dues—and the mandatory participation in stupid ideas like planting flowers and hanging banners around town.”

  Tricia’s mouth dropped. The tourists—the very people who came to Stoneham, spent money, and had not only revived the near-dying town’s economy, but made it possible for businesses like Berry’s to flourish—were not only attracted to the pretty village because of the booksellers, but thanks to the very things Berry wanted to eliminate.

  His suggestions received a lukewarm response as a number of those in attendance—especially those whose businesses flanked Main Street—looked dubiously at each other. Both Berry’s and Marcella’s businesses were located off the beaten tourist track, and admittedly, they weren’t on the receiving end of such attention-getting devices.

  “Do you have anything else to add?” Bob asked gravely.

  Again the members’ heads swiveled to look at Stan. “Yeah. We’d also stop promoting moronic events like Founders Day. I’m sure everyone can agree that it was a major fiasco!”