Free Book Clubbed by Lorna Barrett

all know Frannie Armstrong has that title cinched. But you do seem to get around, and people are far more willing to talk to you than they are to me.”
    â€œAnd you want me to share what I’ve heard?” she asked.
    â€œIf you think it might help my investigation, yes. Have you heard anything of interest?”
    â€œI’m not sure I know anything you don’t already know. Are you willing to compare notes? Have you got any suspects?” she asked.
    â€œI’ve spoken to your friend Charlie, the mailman.”
    â€œCharlie? How can you even suspect him? He’s a sweet old man.”
    â€œYou, Angelica, and Frannie all said he was in the Cookery before Mrs. Dittmeyer’s death. But no one can corroborate where he was at the time she was actually killed.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? He delivers to all the stores. He walks into
every
store and hands the shop owner his or her mail. Somebody has to have seen him Saturday morning.”
    â€œThe shopkeepers know they got their mail that day, but none of them can seem to remember the exact time he delivered it.”
    â€œWhat possible motive does he have for murdering Betsy?”
    â€œWe don’t know. We’re still investigating.”
    Tricia couldn’t imagine Charlie hurting a fly—let alone dumping a heavy bookcase on anyone. And running up the stairs to Angelica’s apartment, kicking in the door, and then fleeing down the fire escape to escape? The rather chubby, older gent wasn’t any kind of an athlete.
    â€œDo you have any other suspects?” Tricia asked.
    â€œWe’re continuing to investigate,” Baker reiterated, which meant he wasn’t going to share whatever else he knew—despite his hint just minutes before. “There is another reason I stopped by. I wanted to let you know that I’ve heard from the state crime lab with their analysis of the fingerprint evidence from the break-in at Stan Berry’s home last fall.”
    Tricia had to think about what he’d said before she remembered the incident. Three months before, Stan Berry had been murdered at the Brookview Inn. Days later, his home had been broken into and ransacked in what appeared to be an attempt to eradicate evidence.
    â€œAnd?” Tricia asked.
    â€œWell, you didn’t hear it from me, but the fingerprints match a set already on file with the state: Bob Kelly.”
    â€œBob?” Tricia repeated, aghast.
    Baker nodded.
    â€œAre you going to arrest him?”
    â€œIf I can track him down—yes. If you see him, would you please call me?”
    Tricia scrutinized Baker’s face. “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t this be confidential until after the deed is done?”
    â€œI felt I owed it to you. You were involved in the case, and you helped bring Berry’s killer to justice.”
    And he wanted very desperately to get back in her good graces.
    â€œWhat else?” she asked, knowing there had to be more to it.
    â€œThe man seems to have gone to ground. I went to his office on Thursday. He saw me coming and slipped out the back, as though he knew why I had come to see him. Since then, neither I nor my officers have been able to pin him down. Not at his house or his place of business. His business, home, and cell phone numbers all go to voice mail.”
    Tricia digested all that he’d said. “It won’t work, you know.”
    â€œWhat won’t work?” Baker asked, sounding puzzled.
    â€œTelling me about Bob. And all the other silly excuses you make to see me. Grant, we’re not getting back together again.”
    â€œI know that. But I consider us friends. Can’t a man talk to his friend? Can’t he elicit her help to track down a criminal? Can’t he invite her to lunch once in a while just to talk? And maybe to dinner, too?”
    Tricia frowned; it sounded like he and Christopher were quoting the same script. “As long as