Murder Is Binding Read Free Page B

exhaled a shaky breath, her expression akin to a lovesick teen. “I wish I could keep it myself, but—”
    Tricia knew that “but” only too well. Like every other collector she, too, had coveted the holy grail for her own collection. She’d been close a few times, but had never been able to obtain an original copy of Graham’s Lady’s and Gentleman’s Magazine containing Poe’s short story “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.”
    â€œWhat are you asking for it?”
    Doris hesitated. “I haven’t actually set a price. I only obtained it a couple of weeks ago. The lockbox arrived just yesterday. But I couldn’t resist putting it on exhibition.” She gazed fondly at the booklet. “Of course I have a facsimile of it at home and have read it many times, but to actually hold an original copy in my hands has been the thrill of a lifetime.”
    Tricia nodded.
    Doris shook her head. “It’s sad how few people really appreciate a well-written cookbook. Most of the slobs who come in here are looking for the latest Food Network star’s most recent atrocity. And I can’t tell you how much money I make on old Betty Crocker books from the fifties and sixties. Not even first editions, mind you. I can sell a tenth or twelfth edition for twenty bucks.” She shuddered. Clearly, the woman hated the books, but she’d sell them to pay her rent—it was something else Tricia understood.
    â€œHow did you score such a find?” Tricia asked.
    Doris’s expression curdled. “Private sale.”
    The fact that she wouldn’t elaborate must’ve meant the former owner had since had an inkling of what the booklet might be worth.
    Tricia forced a smile. “I’d better get going.”
    â€œThank you for returning my glasses,” Doris said, her tone still clipped.
    â€œNo problem.”
    Doris followed Tricia to the door and locked it behind her without even a good night.
    Tricia headed down the sidewalk with no thought to the snub—now to face Angelica. Of the two, she ruefully admitted that she’d probably rather spend time with Doris.
    She’d parked her own car in the municipal lot earlier in the day. By this time it was mostly empty. Now that school was back in session, the bulk of the summer tourist trade had evaporated. That would change when the autumn leaves began to turn and tour buses and crowds would return for another few weeks of superior sales. Thank goodness for the cruise ships that moored in Portsmouth and Boston harbors, which often brought in more customers. Once winter arrived they, too, would be gone. Still, the business slowdown would give Tricia time to establish a storefront in cyberspace, something she’d been meaning to do since she’d opened some five months previous.
    Stoneham wasn’t very large and it only took a minute or two for Tricia to drive to the Brookview Inn, lit up like a Thomas Kinkade painting with warm yellow light spilling from every window. Soft pink roses flanked steps leading to the entrance, the last of the summer’s offerings crowding against white-painted wrought-iron railings. Tricia hesitated, taking in the delicate scent. No doubt Angelica would have doused herself in the latest overpriced perfume with a celebrity’s name attached to it.
    Stop it , she ordered. Yet she’d spent her whole life finding fault with her older sister. Was it natural that even as an adult she hadn’t been able to let go of her childhood animosity? If she was honest with herself, she should blame their mother for fostering such an unhealthy atmosphere.
    Then again, Mother never took the blame for anything.
    Tricia took a breath to control her anxiety. It was really her own reactions to her sister that upset her. Angelica wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. It was up to Tricia to ride out the visit and not let it turn her into the jealous child she thought