Bookplate Special by Lorna Barrett Page B

pet.”
    Angelica blinked. “Oh. Well. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
    “Jumping to conclusions, eh, Angelica?” Tricia asked.
    Angelica leveled a withering glare at her sister. “You stay out of this.” She turned back to Frannie. “And how are you going to catch this cat? I didn’t see a trap.”
    “I’ve got to gain her trust first. I’ve already talked to Animal Control. They’re going to loan me a Havahart trap.”
    “When?”
    “I thought I might try to trap her in the next couple of days.”
    “Well, make it sooner rather than later, will you? I don’t want it hanging around my store. It might have fleas, or some cat disease that could infect my customers.”
    “Cats don’t have—” Tricia started.
    Angelica whirled on her. “What about allergies? I could get sued if one of my customers has allergies, enters my store, and has a seizure or something.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. None of my customers has ever so much as sneezed because of Miss Marple.”
    Angelica leveled a glare at her sister. “I believe I asked you to stay out of this.”
    “Fine. I’m leaving. Good luck catching Penny,” Tricia said to Frannie.
    “Penny?” Angelica asked.
    “My cat,” Frannie said, and smiled.
    Tricia shut the door. The wind had picked up as the sun sank toward the horizon. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stalked back to Haven’t Got a Clue. The leaves on the trees were ablaze with color, and already the leaf peepers were descending on the village. That was good for business but bad if she was going to be shorthanded, with Mr. Everett going on his honeymoon.
    She was preoccupied with thoughts of the busy week ahead when she caught sight of a Hillsborough Sheriff’s Department patrol car moving toward her. She paused, squinting to see who was at the wheel; it was Deputy Placer. She realized that she had hoped it would be Captain Baker.
    A gust of wind made her shiver.
    Now why would she want to see him ? Because he’d called and hadn’t left a message? Or was it those maddening green eyes that reminded her of her ex-husband, Christopher?
    And why think about him at all when she had a date with Russ in just over two hours?
    The cruiser rounded the corner as she opened the door to Haven’t Got a Clue.
    Don’t even think about that man , Tricia chided herself as she resumed her position behind the sales counter. But for the next hour, she kept finding herself looking out the big glass display window, on the lookout for another Sheriff’s Department cruiser.

EIGHT
    Tricia showed up at Russ’s house at precisely seven thirty. He met her at the door, looking relaxed in a beige sweater with suede elbow patches. Light from the sconces that flanked the door glinted off his glasses, and his hair curled around his ears. At that moment, he reminded her of an absentminded professor. He leaned forward to give her a kiss. This time his lips actually landed on hers, and she found herself returning the kiss with enthusiasm.
    “Whoa, come on in,” Russ urged, holding the door open for her, a bit overwhelmed by her greeting.
    After a year of what her grandmother would’ve called “courting,” Tricia felt at home at Russ’s house. She shrugged out of her jacket and he took it from her, hanging it in the closet. As usual, there was a platter of cheese and crackers on the coffee table in his living room. She usually had to ask him to turn off his police scanner when she dropped by, but this night the scanner was silent. Instead, soft jazz played on the stereo. Perhaps things were looking up on the romance front.
    As usual, a cut-glass carafe of sherry and glasses sat on the coffee table as well. Tricia took her accustomed seat on the couch, and Russ soon joined her.
    “You look tired. What have you been up to all day?” Russ asked, pouring sherry for them both.
    Tricia leaned back against the soft leather. “Besides selling books and annoying Angelica? Thinking a lot about Pammy Fredericks. I