"Meg'll be here in a minute."
Quill poked at her hair. "I hope she brings some shampoo."
"You get back inta bed."
"I don't need to be in bed."
"The minute you step outta this door, Harris is goin' to give you the third degree."
"I've got to tell the police what happened," Quill said reasonably.
"You talk to Meg first."
Fortunately for her state of mind, Quill didn't have to wait very long. Meg and John came in minutes later, John holding a paper bag that gave off a delicious smell of yeast and cinnamon, Meg with a cardboard tray of cafe lattes.
"All right," Quill said, when they were settled with coffee and cinnamon croissants. "What's going on?"
Meg, curled at the foot of the bed, looked reflectively into her coffee cup. "Some of this is what Brady told me. Some is what I deduced."
"What you deduced? Ha! Both of us thought that CarolAnn Spinoza did it."
"I never thought CarolAnn Spinoza did it. You were the one who—"
"Meg," John said quietly, "we can't put Harris off too much longer. Howie said we'll be a lot better off if you two cooperate as soon as possible."
"Oh. Right. Anyhow, there were three bodies, Quill, and three murderers. It's why you couldn't get the timing right."
"Neither one of us . . . never mind. Go on."
"Rossiter killed Candy. Over Mrs. Rossiter. So you were right about that."
"You mean Rossiter discovered they were having an affair?"
"It's not that so much as the fact that Candy wasn't going to give up Shirley unless Rossiter paid him off. They got into a squabble, and Royal knifed him and left him for dead."
"But he wasn't dead."
"Not right away. Calhoun found him."
"Calhoun?"
"Rossiter told Shirley about the crossbreeding. She told Candy. When the colonel found him, he told the colonel."
"I don't understand. Why didn't Calhoun get Candy help?"
"I don't know," Meg said soberly. "Shirley said that Candy had known about the crossbreeding for at least a year. Calhoun must have left him for dead. Out of revenge."
"So Calhoun killed Royal Rossiter?"
Meg bit her lip. "No. Brady did."
"Brady did?! Why?!"
"Because he and Candy went way back. Because Candy saved his life more than once. Because Brady, too, found Candy in the park. By the time Brady got to him, Candy was gone. You remember how you saw him in the park that morning? And we thought that perhaps he had killed Candy until we discovered how long the poor guy had been lying there? Brady told me that Candy died in his arms, Quill. And Brady swore revenge."
"And Laura. The colonel killed her."
John nodded.
"And Brady. Brady saved my life."
"When you passed out on me, I was terrified. Brady called the medics, called the cops, and told me what I've just told you before they all got to the scene."
"And Meg told him to run," John said.
Doreen patted Quill awkwardly on the shoulder. "Any guy'd save your life like that, I woulda tolt him to run, too."
"So, here's the scoop." Meg took a deep breath. "I told Harris I killed Calhoun."
"You're kidding!?"
"I'm not kidding."
Quill lay back on the pillows. "Oh, my goodness."
"So we've got to get our stories straight."
"You mean, lie to the police?"
Meg nodded.
"But, Meg. Won't there be a trial?"
"Howie says unlikely. Justifiable homicide or whatever."
"Did you tell Howie about all this?"
"We didn't think it prudent," John said.
"No one knows but us." Doreen scrubbed her nose with her fist. "That son of a gun Calhoun would have kilt you, if he could. And Meg, too."
"Why wasn't Brady in the examining room with you, Meg?"
"Nobody thought CarolAnn Spinoza killed Laura Crest except you," Meg said blithely. "Brady left me there with the tape recorder and went around to the front so that he could follow Calhoun when he came in. Only problem is, Calhoun came in the back way, found me, and almost got you before Brady got him." Meg gave Quill her sunniest smile. "Got it?"
"I guess so."
"So we're agreed? On what you and I tell Harris?"
Quill lay back.
"You have some problems with this," Meg said. "I knew you would."
"Not with letting Brady go," Quill said. "I mean, he saved us both."
"No. It's not that. John, could you and Doreen leave us alone for a second?"
Doreen, put out, opened her mouth to protest. John put a gentle hand on her arm and led her from the room. Meg waited until the door closed, then said. "It's Myles."
"He wouldn't understand at all, Meg."
"It's up to you, kiddo. I have to say I agree with you. This will put a barrier between the two of you. Maybe a final one."
"No maybe about it," Quill said wryly.
"It's not too late to tell Harris the truth, you know. He doesn't think much of women anyway. He's one of the few men we know who'd be perfectly ready to believe we were too stricken with girlish fear to know what went on. And he sure didn't like Brady."
The door burst open. Harris walked into the room. Quill looked at him a long moment, lay back against the pillows, and said in a faint voice, "Oh, Meggie. He's here. He's not going to take you away, is he?" She struggled winsomely to sit up. "Sergeant, what my sister did, she did because she loves me."
"Oh, Quill," Meg said.
"Oh, Meg," Quill said.
"Now, girls." Harris sat down in the chair by the bed. "You just take your time and tell me all about it."
Quill sat on the back porch, rocking in the evening air. They'd closed the dining room for the evening, and the house was finally quiet. There'd been a stream of visitors that afternoon, after she'd left the hospital. Miriam and Esther, with a bouquet of flowers. The mayor and Adela, shocked and sympathetic. Howie, who looked closely at both Meg and Quill, then said, "I don't want to know a thing about it," and left as quickly as he'd come. Dookie Shuttleworth, who had been shocked into sympathetic speech and run on so long that Doreen had told him to git. There'd been media, as well. Lally Preston had thrown up her hands and gone back to New York, but the Syracuse television station had been hanging around the Palate all afternoon. John had given them a brief statement, and Quill was sure there was going to be a (very unflattering) shot on the evening news of both her and Meg driving away from the hospital in their battered Oldsmobile. She still hadn't had time to wash her hair.
She'd left word for Myles.
Doreen poked her head out the screen door. "You okay out there?"
"Yeah, but if I don't wash my hair soon, I'm going to faint all over again."
"You want a hand? You can't get that face wet."
As she scrubbed Quill's hair in the kitchen sink, Doreen said, "Sher'f comin' back?"
"At some point."
Doreen dug her fingers into Quill's scalp. "You know what I mean."
"I left word on his voice mail."
"Voice mail," Doreen muttered. "Best way to dodge a relationship ever invented." She rinsed Quill's hair in warm water, then wrapped her head in a towel. Quill heard the phone ring, then stop. She sat up. Water dripped down the back of her neck.
Meg came into the kitchen, her face pensive. "Myles is on the phone."
"I'll take it upstairs."
She went up slowly. Her face ached. She was tired. She sat in the rocking chair next to the window and picked up her extension. Below stairs, she heard Meg yell, "Got it?" and she shouted, "Yes." She waited a moment, then put the phone to her ear. "Hey."
"My God, Quill. What the hell's going on?"
"The usual. Murder and mayhem."
"You're all right, I take it."
"Fine. A scratch on my cheek. A couple stitches. No biggie."
"And Meg?"
"She's fine."
"I've t
alked to Harris."
"Before you talked to me?"
"I wanted to get the facts straight. I don't think there's going to be a problem. It's clearly a case of self-defense." No suspicions in his voice. Quill wanted, suddenly, to weep. "Do you need me?"
"No," Quill said. "No. We're just fine." She asked him about the job he was on, received assurances that things were going as well as could be expected. Promised to see him soon, and rang off.
"You didn't say, 'I love you,' " John said. Quill looked up in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Just wanted to let you know that Marge and Harland are downstairs. Are you too tired to see them?"
"No. What . . .?" She smiled at him. "You look pretty happy. Don't tell me, she's ready to sell."
"Almost better than that, I've got a buyer for the Palate. But we'll get to that in a bit." He held out his hand. "Come on, Quill. We've got an Inn to buy back."
"We're still one hundred thousand short," Quill said glumly. They were in the kitchen of the Palate. The meeting with Marge and Harland had been brief the night before, much longer this morning. They'd managed, somehow, to serve the lunch trade, while discussing ways to raise the five hundred thousand dollars Marge wanted to sell the Inn at Hemlock Falls back to them.
"We've got the four hundred," Meg said worriedly. She sent an absentminded smile toward Bjarne, who, set a plate of fresh strawberries in front of them.
"Yes." John put his pencil down. "The Marriott wants to run the Palate as a signature restaurant for the longhorn beef."
"All the publicity about the crossbreeding isn't going to put customers off?" Quill asked.
"It shouldn't. The purebred beef is as advertised, Quill. And the Marriott name carries a lot of weight with the consumer."
"The bank'll give us the hundred k," Doreen said. "Whyn't we just go with that?"
John shook his head. "Not a good idea. They want a second mortgage, nine percent interest, and personal loan guarantees. No way."
"There's got to be some way to raise that money." Quill frowned.
"It's five-thirty," Meg said. "I'll make some coffee and we'll do some brainstorming."
"You cannot," Bjarne said. He put the filet knife carefully in its slot on the butcher block, folded his arms, and stared at them.
"What do you mean, we cannot?" Meg said crossly. "Make coffee in my own kitchen?"
"Talk business in my kitchen." His glare was icy, made even more intense because his eyes were such a pale gray. "Who has worked, worked in this kitchen while Herself has been off in New York interviewing for the TV cameras?" He flung his hand at Meg. "Who is the real talent behind the Palate? Who has been browbeaten into cooking for my sworn enemy, those (here he said what must have been a very bad Finnish word, since Quill didn't understand it. The enemy of my people?) And who has DONE it! I, Bjarne Bjornson."
"My goodness," Meg said.
"Oh, dear." Quill got up and went to him.
"No and no!" Bjarne folded his arms. "I will give you the four hundred thousand. In exchange for ownership."
"You've got four hundred thousand dollars, Bjarne?" Meg rolled her eyes. "I must be paying you too much."
"I do not have four hundred thousand American dollars," Bjarne admitted. "But my government has."
Quill blinked at him. "Your government has?"
John grinned, something Quill had rarely seen him do. "The Russians," he said. "Is that it?"
Bjarne made a spitting motion. "I have contacted my sponsor in Helsinki. If the Russians can invest in America, so can we."
"But . . ." Meg trailed off. She tugged at her hair with both hands. "The Finns?"
"Why not the Finns?" Bjarne said. "You have something against Finns?"
"It'll work," John said. He leaned forward and began to make rapid notes. "We provide an opportunity for you to bring Finnish citizens to work for the Inn . . . I'll want to talk to Howie Murchison, Bjarne, and your people. Will they spring for a trip to Helsinki?"
"Oh, yes," Bjarne said. "It is very beautiful in Helsinki in July."
Epilogue
It was late summer in Hemlock Falls. The warm gold light of August wrapped the rose garden in drowsy quiet. The Queen Elizabeth roses were in splendid bloom, the bush loaded with more flowers than had ever been there before.
The dog sniffed at the base of the tallest bush with eager interest. A strong odor of cow, not that old. He raised his nose to the breeze, but the odor wasn't carried to him from anywhere else. Just here, in this garden, with the fish swimming in the stone pond.
He jumped over the low stone wall surrounding the garden and trotted to the lip of the Gorge. The waterfall filled the air with more intriguing scents. He stiffened. Rabbit. Definitely rabbit. He plunged down the side of the hill to the stream beneath.
"Max!"
One floppy ear bent back.
"Max! Dinner!"
Rabbit? Or a dish of dry food in the stone flagged kitchen at the Inn? He sat down, scratched heartily, and went back up the hill.
Marinade for
Texas Longhorn Beef
Ingredients:
2 parts olive oil
1 part soy sauce
ground ginger to taste
dry mustard to taste
1 part papaya extract
Mix, pour over beef, and chill for several hours.
Claudia Bishop
www.claudiabishop.com
www.marystanton.com
www.spectrumliteraryagency.com/stanton.htm
Claudia Bishop (Mary Stanton) writes the popular Hemlock Falls mysteries from her farm in upstate New York, where she is surrounded by great vineyards, wonderful restaurants, and the incredible beauty of the Finger Lakes. In the cold winter months, she lives in a small house in West Palm Beach, Florida. She can be reached at her website, www.claudiabishop.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by Mary Stanton
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Cast of Characters
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Marinade for Texas Longhorn Beef
About the Author
A Steak in Murder (Hemlock Falls Mystery Series) Page 21
