Lorna Barrett - Bookplate Special

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Table of Contents

Praise for the first book in
the Booktown Mysteries

MURDERISBINDING

[A] smart, fast-paced novel with likeable characters and enough plot twists and turns to keep things interesting.

Suite101.com

Charming... The mix of books, cooking, and an engaging whodunit will leave cozy fans eager for the new installment.

Publishers Weekly

Move over, Cabot Cove. Lorna Barretts new cozy creation, Murder Is Binding, has it all: wonderful old books, quirky characters, a clever mystery, and a cat named Miss Marple!

Roberta Isleib, author of Asking for Murder

A mystery bookstore in a sleepy New England town, a cat named Miss Marple, a nasty murder, and a determined heroine make Barretts delightful debut mystery everything a cozy lover could want and more. Bravo!

Leann Sweeney, author of the Yellow Rose Mysteries

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Lorna Barrett

MURDER IS BINDING
BOOKMARKED FOR DEATH
BOOKPLATE SPECIAL

For
Gwen Nelson and Liz Eng,
my staunchest cheerleaders

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a book is always an adventureand often I have no idea where the journey will take me until I reach the end.

I could not have written this book without Mona Durgin of the Greece Ecumenical Food Shelf. She gave me an extensive guided tour and shared her experiences, as well as other information concerning the operation and maintenance of a food pantry.

Gail Bunn of Grammy Gs Caf kindly let me pick her brain on more than one occasion, and even let me play behind the counter for a shift to get the feel of the workings of a small caf.

Michele Sampson, director of the Wadleigh Memorial Public Library in Milford, New Hampshire, took me on a guided tour of Milford, and encouraged me to write about the Milford Pumpkin Festival. (And she knows all the best places to eat in Milford, too!) My Guppy Sister in Crime, Pat Remick, has been extremely generous answering my questions and offering me more local color to enrich my stories.

My blog buddies at Writers Plot were there to encourage me when I painted myself into corners, especially Sheila Connolly and Leann Sweeney, who were always ready for an impromptu brainstorming session. And I cant forget my wonderful first readers, Sheila Connolly, Nan Higgin- son, and Gwen Nelson, who pointed out the places where I tripped up.

Thanks, too, to my editor, Tom Colgan, and his wonderful assistant, Niti Bagchi, and to my agent, Jacky Sach.

Please visit my website, www.LornaBarrett.com, for news and information on the Booktown Mysteries. And if you can, please support your local food pantryand your favorite bookstores!

ONE

Get out of my house!

Get out of my house!

Get out of my house right now!

Tricia Miles had always considered annoying fixtures to be expendable. Like the stainless steel sink in her last home. The key to a clean kitchen was a clean sink. Water spots became the bane of her existence. So without a hint of remorse, shed had the sink replaced with a white porcelain one that came clean with a little bleach and very little effort.

Other fixtures in her life werent quite so easily taken care of. For instance, Pammy Fredericks, her college roommate. Pammy had arrived two weeks before to stay the weekend, and had since taken over Tricias living roomand her life.

That was about to end. In fact, while Pammy was taking the first of her twice-daily, forty-minute showers, Tricia had packed one of her suitcases and placed it in the dumbwaiter at the end of her loft apartment over her mystery bookstore, Havent Got a Clue, in the picturesque little village of Stoneham, New Hampshirealso known as Booktown.

By the time the water stopped running, Tricia had gulped down two cups of black coffee and rehearsed her speech at least a dozen times, with as many inflections.

The bathroom door opened and Pammy appeared, wearing Tricias robewhich was at least three sizes too small for herunderwear, and a grubby, once-white T-shirt. A wet towel hung around her neck, and her damp, shoulder-length, bleached-blond hair fell in stringy clumps around her face. Any coffee in the pot? she called.

No, Tricia answered, and forced herself to unclench her fists. Her nails had dug into her palms.

Why dont you make some more while I go grab some clothes? Pammy said, evidently missing Tricias clipped tone, and headed for the living room.

Pammy, we need to talk, Tricia said.

Pammy halted, though not because of Tricias words. She took in the now tidy living room, which had been cluttered with her possessions before shed hit the shower. Hey, wheres all my stuff?

I packed it. Pammy, its time for you to go, Tricia said succinctly.

Pammy turned, her mouth hanging open in shock. But why? I thought we were having fun.

We had fun the night you arrived. Since then... youve had fun. You have lain around my home, annoyed my cat, and interfered with my employees and my customers. Its time for you to go.

I cooked you several delicious gourmet mealssupplied the food and everything. You said you enjoyed them.

Yes, I did. Thank you.

What about that box of books I gave you for your store? Havent I always looked for books for you?

It was very generous of you... but theyre not really what I carry.

Pammys expression darkened. If this is about what happened yesterday, I told you I was sorry, she said defensively.

Saying Im sorry wouldnt have helped if the coffee shed spilled on a customers foot had been hotwhich would have netted Tricia one nice, fat lawsuit. As it was, it had cost her one hundred dollars to pacify the woman and replace her coffee-stained leather shoes. Next up: getting the carpet shampooed.

But that wasnt the worst.

Tricia crossed her arms over her chest. She was through giving hints. Pammy, I know about the check.

Pammy blinked. Check?

Yes, the one you stole out of my checkbook and wrote to yourself for one hundred dollars.

Pammy laughed nervously. Oh, that check. Well, you werent around, and youve been such a generous hostess that I figured

You figured wrong.

Pammy didnt apologize. In fact, she just stood there, her expression blank.

Besides, two weeks is too long for a drop-in visit. Its time for you to move on.

But I dont have anywhere to go! Pammy protested.

You have family in the next county.

But I hate themand they all hate me. You know that, she accused.

After sharing digs with Pammy once again, Tricia could well understand why the womans family might not want her around. Pammy hadnt changed a bit since college. Lazy. Noisy. Freeloading. Irresponsible. And now a thief. How had Tricia tolerated living with her in that tiny dorm room for eight semesters?

This time, Tricia didnt back down. Im sorry, Pammy. You cant stay with me any longer.

A tense silence hung between them for interminably long seconds. Tricia waited for an explosionor at least tears. Instead, Pammys face lost all animation, and she shrugged. Okay. She turned away to poke through the open suitcase Tricia had left on the couch. She picked up a blouse, sniffed under the arms, and set it back in the suitcase. She repeated the process until she found a shirt she deemed acceptable, grabbed a pair of jeans, and headed for the bathroom once again. Ill be out of your hair in ten minutes, she said over her shoulder, with no hint of malice.

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