Nothing but sugar. No folded pages. No nothing.

"Rats! I was really hoping we'd found them," Tricia said.

Angelica replaced the lid and put the jar back on the shelf. "Too easy. And I'm sure Captain Baker looked in every other container in this kitchen, too. Those pages just aren't here."

Tricia wasn't about to give up.

While Angelica stirred the spinach into the egg mixture, Tricia took out the step stool and moved it to the shelving. Since Angelica seemed in an affable mood, Tricia decided to broach a potentially volatile subject. "Frannie has fallen in love with Penny."

"Penny?" Angelica asked, squinting down at her recipe.

"Her new cat." Tricia climbed to the stool's top step and steadied herself by grabbing onto the shelf. It was obvious everything had been moved, for Angelica liked order, and nothing was lined up to her usual standards. Cans of vegetables, tuna, and fruit stood next to a meat slicer and a food processor--everything you'd expect to see in a small working kitchen.

"She hates to leave the poor little thing all alone at home while she's at work all day. It could make for a neurotic cat."

"Well, she's not bringing it to the Cookery. I've made that clear. And I'm a.s.suming she'd have to lug a carrier with her to work everyday. That wouldn't be good for the cat. Talk about making the thing neurotic. Can't she get it a friend to keep it company during the day?"

"Maybe," Tricia admitted, exasperated.

"If there's one thing the Cookery doesn't need, it's some kind of animal mascot," Angelica said, and it was obvious by her tone that the subject was now closed.

Tricia wasn't ready to quit. "Ange, what is your problem with people having pets? Just because you don't like them--"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with pets," Angelica said, shaking her whisk in Tricia's direction. "They die on you. You give them all your love for years and years, and then they go and die on you, and give you a broken heart." She finished the sentence with a sob, her eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Ange," Tricia said, with understanding, "have you lost a pet?"

Angelica wiped at her eyes with the edge of her ap.r.o.n. "Maybe."

"There's no maybe about it. Was it a dog or a cat?"

Angelica sniffed. "A toy poodle. His name was Pom-Pom. John, my second husband, bought him for me. When he left, all I had was my little Pom-Pom. He was the joy of my life. And then he got sick. Cancer." Tears cascaded down Angelica's cheeks, and her face scrunched into an ugly mask of grief.

A lump formed in Tricia's throat. "I'm so sorry, Ange. You never told me you had a dog."

"Well, why would I? It sounds so stupid to love a d.a.m.n animal."

"No, it doesn't. Pets enrich our lives."

Angelica waved a hand in dismissal. "Anyway, after Pom-Pom died, I told myself I'd never put myself through it again."

"How many years did you have him?"

"Just three. He was such a tiny boy. I spent thousands of dollars on treatment, but it didn't help. It nearly killed me when I had to have him . . ." She couldn't finish the sentence.

Tricia wrapped her arms around her sister. "I'm sure he loved you. And you had three wonderful years with him."

Angelica sniffed. "Not nearly enough." Then suddenly she was sobbing into Tricia's shoulder.

Tricia patted her sister's back. "How long have you been denying yourself the love of a pet?"

Angelica hiccuped. "Fifteen years."

"Oh, Ange, I'm so sorry."

"I don't understand how you can allow yourself to love that silly little cat of yours, knowing you're going to lose her someday."

"It's painful to lose a pet. Especially for people like us, who'll never have children. But I like to think of the wonderful years Miss Marple has already given me, and I hope we'll have many more years together. Our pets give us unconditional love. Something we can't always count on with people," she added, thinking of both her ex-husband, Christopher, and Russ.

"It's been a long time since you lost Pom-Pom. And you've got a lot of love inside you. Wouldn't you like to share it with someone besides just me and Bob?"

Angelica pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Maybe. But my heart would be broken when that pet died, too."

"Yes, but if your heart breaks, at least you know it was real love that you felt." Tears filled Tricia's eyes, too. "I'm not saying this right. What I guess I mean is . . . why deny yourself any kind of love? You deserve it, Ange."

Angelica straightened up, took a stiff breath, and swallowed hard. "You know, maybe you're right. I was a wonderful mother to my sweet little Pom-Pom."

"Yes. And you could do the same for some other dog or cat. There are a lot of abandoned dogs and cats who need homes."

"I don't know if I'm ready to do this again just yet."

Yet? Pom-Pom had been consigned to doggy heaven at least fifteen years before.

"When you are, you should really consider contacting a shelter to make your choice. I'd be glad to help you with that."

"Well, I guess I hadn't thought that getting a new pet would actually honor Pom-Pom's memory," Angelica said softly. "No other dog could ever take his place."

"Of course not." Tricia patted Angelica's back one last time, and stood back. "And you know, if you gave her a chance, you might get to like Frannie's cat."

"Cats aren't as bad as I thought," Angelica admitted. "I actually kind of liked it when you and Miss Marple stayed with me last spring. She's really not a bad little cat at all."

Tricia smiled. "No, she's not."

Angelica cleared her throat and started beating the egg mixture with renewed vigor.

Tricia let out a long breath, feeling exhausted.

She let her gaze travel around the entire kitchen. Everything looked just fine . . . except for maybe the clock, which was a teensy bit crooked. No doubt Captain Baker had knocked it askew during his search of the premises.

She moved the step stool across the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Angelica asked.

"The clock is crooked. It bugs me."

"And you always say I'm the picky one."

Tricia mounted the steps. As she grasped the clock, something slid out from behind it. "Eureka!" In her haste to get down, she nearly fell.

"Watch out!" Angelica cautioned.

Tricia scooped up the folded papers and spread them out on the counter. They were indeed the missing pages from Pammy's diary.

"Read, read!" Angelica encouraged.

Tricia scanned the words.

I'm so annoyed with Joe. At first he was angry about the baby, but I thought I'd wear him down. Libby can't have children, after all. Why should he want to stick with her when I can give him what he wants?

Tricia gasped. "Good Lord! Joe--Libby! She's talking about the Hirts."

"You think little Eugenia's father killed Pammy?" Angelica asked, aghast.

Tricia's mind whirled with the implications. "Oh, sweet heaven! Eugenia was the baby who needed gender a.s.signment. No wonder she didn't want anyone to know her secret. Can you imagine how the kids at school would have teased her with that piece of news?"

"But she's been out of school for years," Angelica said.

"Public school, yes, but she's still taking cla.s.ses at Daniel Webster College in Nashua."

"I'm sure she's practically anonymous at college. Unless you live on campus, most people are."

Tricia's mind whirled with the implications. "It had to be Joe who killed Pammy, don't you see?"

"That poor woman," Angelica said, shaking her head in sympathy.

"Who, Pammy?"

"No, Libby. Married to a rat. Well, what else is new? I've married four rats." Angelica nodded at the pages on the counter. "What are you going to do with them?"

Tricia sighed. "I certainly don't want to confront Joe Hirt. I'm going to let Captain Baker take care of that." She grabbed her purse from the counter and dug through it until she found the business card the captain had given her days before.

By the time the captain arrived more than an hour later, all the mini quiches had been baked and were nestled in plastic wrap in the cafe's large freezer.

Tricia and Angelica were sitting at the counter in the dining area, eating tuna sandwiches and spooning up Angelica's delicious potato-leek soup, when the cruiser arrived. Angelica let the captain in.

"Thank you for calling me, Ms. Miles. Somehow I had the impression you were going to try to deliver justice by yourself."

"Not me. Last time out, I got my nose broken. I'm content to stand quietly along the sidelines."

"I'm not sure I would have believed that a few hours ago."

"I'm sorry if you thought I was interfering. I simply wanted to make sure that whoever killed Pammy was found."

"Why don't you have a cup of coffee while you look them over?" Angelica suggested.

This time, Baker took her up on her offer, settling at one of the counter's stools. He quickly skimmed the pages. When he'd finished, he picked them up, waving them in Tricia's direction. "This doesn't prove Joe Hirt killed anyone. All it says is that he fathered a child, with a birth defect, out of wedlock. I'll be speaking with him concerning this, but we're still a long way away from proving he or anyone else killed Pamela Fredericks."

"I suppose you're right," Tricia said. "But at least you have one more piece of the puzzle."

He stood. "I don't want you to speak to anyone in the Hirt family until this whole thing is settled. Do I make myself clear?"

"I wouldn't know what to say. But what if I run into Eugenia at the Bookshelf Diner?"

"Stay away from her until this is resolved." Baker glanced around Angelica's cafe, which looked a lot more cheerful with all the lights turned on. "What's wrong with eating here? It seems like a charming little place."

"Why, thank you, Captain Baker. Are you in a hurry? I've got some wonderful potato-leek soup that's to die for!"

"No, thank you, I've already had dinner. But it does smell good."

"Suit yourself," Angelica said, and dug into her soup once more.

Tricia walked him to the door.

"It goes without saying that you shouldn't talk about the contents of the diary," Baker said.

But she already had. Ginny knew some of what the diary held. Thankfully, Tricia hadn't told her what she'd learned from Stuart Paige. And it would be best not to tell her that Eugenia was the subject of the entire diary, since the two young women were . . . kind of . . . friends. The same kind of friends she and Pammy had been? More like acquaintances stuck with each other.

Tricia cleared her throat. "Of course, Captain. I don't want anything to interfere with your investigation."

"Thank you, Ms. Miles."

"Call me Tricia."

He nodded and smiled. "Tricia." He tipped his hat. "Good night."

Tricia closed the door, lingering as she watched the captain get into his cruiser and drive off.

"A-hem!"

Tricia looked over at her sister. "What?"

Angelica sported an absurdly smug expression. "Me-thinks you're sweet on that man."

Tricia frowned. "Don't be absurd. I'm merely glad he's not as obnoxious as his boss. And besides, now that he's got the missing diary pages, I'll probably never see him again."

The thought saddened her, but she wasn't about to admit it to Angelica.

"Sit down and finish your soup," Angelica said. "After all, now you can relax. No matter what happens next, it's totally out of your hands."

It certainly was.

TWENTY.