by Tim Myers
Alex was about to agree, Fiona’s muffins were indeed a clear favorite over Sally Anne’s, when Elise said, “We agreed on a one-week trial.”
That generated another wave in the air from Fiona. “Mere formalities, but if you insist, I’ll return at the end of the week, though I can’t imagine Miss Sally Anne’s offerings getting any takers when my muffins are available. It’s a shame about her beau standing her up at the altar, isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t quite all that dramatic,” Elise said, but Fiona didn’t buy it.
“It sounded dramatic enough to me. And poor Irma Bean, ready to shut Mama Ravolini’s down after this upstart comes to town.”
“What have you heard?” Alex asked. Losing Mama Ravolini’s, especially after the disastrous start at Monet’s Garden, could be a real catastrophe for Elkton Falls.
“Just some idle chitchat I picked up around town,” Fiona said as she started to walk away.
She was nearly out the door when Alex remembered that Fiona had visited the inn shortly before Cliff’s murder and the theft. “Did you hear about what happened out here?”
She paused at the door, a crinkled frown on her brow. “What might that be?”
“The first time you visited us, a guard was murdered and a precious emerald was stolen from the inn.”
She brushed it off with a curt shrug. “I concern myself with muffins. It’s enough to keep me occupied, trust me. I don’t know anything about your murder or your robbery.”
After she was gone, as Elise and Alex returned to folding laundry, he said, “Do you have any interest in dinner tonight?”
“I don’t know, Alex, two dinners out together two nights in a row? Besides, the Darcys are due in this evening, and I hate to be gone while a guest waits here for us.”
“Relax, I’m not pressing you. I just thought we might get reservations at Irma’s and see how she’s doing.”
Elise said, “You know, you’re right, that’s an excellent idea.”
Alex added, “Should I invite Mor and Emma and make it a foursome again?”
Elise shook her head. “Why don’t we let the newlyweds enjoy some time alone. I think dinner with just the two of us would be nice.”
Alex had to agree. It would certainly have to be better than the last time they’d dined at Mama Ravolini’s together alone. It had been the scene of their disastrous first date, and Alex was determined not to make the same mistakes again this time.
Visiting his old friend would just be an added bonus to the night. Alex left a note at the front desk in case the Darcys showed up, along with their room key. He’d work out the billing the next morning. It would be worth the added hassle, since it meant he’d be dining out with Elise. Besides, most guests seemed to expect the owner of a mountain lighthouse to be a little eccentric, and Alex hated to disappoint anybody.
Irma Bean’s restaurant, given the name Mama Ravolini’s because Irma had thought it sounded more authentic for her Italian fare, was emptier than Alex could ever remember seeing it. Irma hovered by the door, dressed in black as if she was in mourning, and as Alex and Elise came in, she looked grateful to have them dining with her.
“Hi, Irma. how are you?” Elise asked, gently touching the older woman’s shoulder. Elise wore an understated print dress that highlighted her complexion, and if she had makeup on, it had been so skillfully applied that Alex couldn’t see it. Still, something was different from her normal working appearance. Alex had foregone his suit and was wearing the shirt from L.L. Bean Elise had given him for his birthday and a pair of khaki Dockers. While it wasn’t quite his suit, his clothes were definitely a step up from his normal day-to-day wardrobe.
Irma squeezed Elise’s hand. “I’m holding my own,” she said, but the fire was gone from her voice and her eyes. She waved at the tables and said, “Take your pick, there are plenty of choices tonight.”
Irma handed Alex two menus and turned back to stare worriedly at the front door. As they found a table, Alex said, “I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Elise looked around the room. “I’ll bet you’ve never seen this place as deserted as it is tonight, either. I don’t understand it. The prices alone should be enough to keep folks away from Monet’s Garden. I can’t imagine anyone going back who ate there last night.”
“The novelty will wear off soon enough,” Alex said, hoping it was true. While he enjoyed having Elise mostly to himself, he would have rather been surrounded by a roomful of other diners for Irma’s sake. They had just placed their orders when one of their guests from the inn stopped by their table. Melva Flump was a walking fashion disaster, mixing stripes, checks, and plaids in her clothes with reckless abandon. Though she was about Alex’s age, he couldn’t imagine having anything else in common with the dour woman.
“Mr. Winston, Ms. Danton, I didn’t realize you two were involved in a personal relationship.”
Alex looked on in shock at Melva Flump as Elise said,
“We all have to eat, don’t we, Ms. Flump? I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
She took the dismissal as it was intended, offered a curt “Good-night, then,” and headed out of the restaurant, most likely on her way back to Hatteras West.
“No doubt we’ll be the subject of tonight’s postcard barrage,” Elise said after she was gone.
“I can’t wait to read the current installment.” Alex agreed. Melva, though she didn’t look it, was a most imaginative writer. Her prose was in the form of a chain of postcards, written in careful, spidery print each night, one after the other until her tale was told, all addressed to a woman named Kim in Queens and neatly numbered just below the stamp to insure the proper sequence of reading. The cards’ fronts were identical, they were the lighthouse postcards Alex offered free to his guests at the inn, but the writing squeezed into the small squares on the back was anything but common. Two nights ago, Alex had read with surprise as Melva relived a brief encounter with Patrick Thornton in most graphic detail. Alex knew this was pure fiction, as he’d witnessed Thornton picking up a pair of books Melva had dropped in the hallway before offering her a brief goodnight. Not so in Melva’s mind. She’d invited him back to her room, and one thing led to another, all in detail that made Alex blush. Elise had caught him reading them, chided him for being so nosy, then picked up the missives just as quickly as Alex finished each entry. Alex had justified reading them to her, arguing that if she’d wanted privacy, she would have written sealed letters instead of postcards. He couldn’t imagine what Melva’s friend must think of the Hatteras West Inn; some kind of Southern Club Med most likely.
It had become part of their evening ritual to see just where Melva’s imagination would be taking her later that night.
As they waited for their meal, Alex studied some of the closest photographs of the near-famous hanging from the walls. He was sitting close to Yardley Hink’s snapshot, a big grin plastered on the insurance salesman’s face. Yardley’s claim to fame was a brief stint on Who Wants to Be Rich, a cable television show that offered a top prize of ten thousand dollars to the winner. Yardley had failed to guess the fifty-dollar question correctly after staying up too late the night before taking in the sights of Atlanta; at least that had been his excuse. Though his appearance had lasted less than thirty seconds, apparently it had been enough to gain him a spot on the wall. Alex wondered if he’d ever manage anything deemed noteworthy enough to be included in the gallery, then wondered if he’d allow it, knowing how much fun he had with some of the rogues on display there.
Elise pulled him from his thoughts and asked, “So what are we going to do?”
“About Melva? She’s harmless, I wouldn’t worry about her.”
Elise shook her head. “I’m talking about finding the murderer. It’s got to be someone right in front of us, but I don’t have a clue where to start.”
Alex touched Elise’s hand briefly, then asked, “Could we not talk about Cliff’s murder and the theft tonight? Why don’t we leav
e Hatteras West where it is and enjoy our meal?”
“Alex Winston, are you under the impression this really is a date?”
Alex nodded slightly. “Call me hopeless, but I think there’s still a chance for us.”
Elise studied him longer than he was comfortable with, then said, “You know, it’s possible you just might be right.”
Their moment was interrupted by a booming voice from the front of the restaurant. Elise said, “It appears that great minds think alike.”
Alex didn’t have to look up to know that his best friend, Mor Pendleton, was there, with his wife no doubt beside him.
Alex stood up as they approached. “Hey, you two.”
Emma smiled their way, then tugged at Mor’s arm. “Let’s give them some privacy, you big goon.”
He ignored the tug. “They were getting ready to invite us to sit down, so why not save them the breath.”
“Mor Pendleton, I swear, sometimes you can be so thick. If they’d wanted us to join them, they would have called and invited us out in the first place.”
Elise said, “We thought you two might enjoy some time alone yourselves.”
Mor said, “Nonsense, there’s always room in our lives for our friends.”
Emma shook her head sadly. “I thought he could be trained, but I’m beginning to have my doubts.”
Alex said, “He’s just going to take more work than you figured on.”
Mor said, “Hey, I’m standing right here. So what’s it going to be, should we find another table and pretend we didn’t see you?”
Alex was ready to suggest just that when Elise said, “Nonsense, we’d be delighted to have you join us.”
So much for their date, Alex thought as the couple took seats across from them.
He’d been close, but close didn’t count.
At least not in the dating game he and Elise were playing.
Chapter 8
Halfway through their meal, much better than their offerings the night before, Sheriff Armstrong walked into Mama Ravolini’s and took one of the singles’ tables against the wall. Alex loved the fact that Irma Bean recognized that some folks dined alone and didn’t like being treated like pariahs. He’d taken advantage of the discrete tables himself a time or two in the past.
Elise said, “Alex, here’s your chance. Did you bring it with you?”
“What’s that?”
“That odd piece of metal you found,” Elise explained. Alex tapped the breast pocket of his shirt. “I’ve got it right here, but it can wait, can’t it?”
“He needs to see it now,” Elise said.
“Hey, what’s all the whispering about?” Mor asked.
Emma nudged his elbow. “Now you just hush, Mor Pendleton. I knew we should have given them some privacy.”
Alex said, “No, we’re thrilled to have you. I just need to speak with the sheriff for a second.”
Mor said, “No doubt Elise can fill us in while you’re gone.”
She looked to Alex, waiting for his approval to share the information, and after thinking about it a second. Alex nodded his agreement. After all, there were no secrets between the four of them. Mor and Emma had lent a hand in some of their impromptu investigations in the past.
Alex walked over to Armstrong and was surprised to find a salad already in front of the man.
“Wow, that’s fast service,” Alex said.
“I get the same thing every night,” Armstrong grumbled. “A salad and a small plate of spaghetti.”
“How’s the diet working out?” Alex asked.
“I’ve lost three pounds,” Armstrong admitted grudgingly. “Not sure if it’s worth it, though.” He started to take a bite, then put his fork back down. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Alex?”
“I found something out at the inn I thought you needed to see,” Alex admitted, pulling the piece of metal from his pocket. “What do you make of that?”
“Where was it?” Armstrong asked as he took the metal from Alex.
“It was in the room where Cliff was murdered, and Elise swears it wasn’t there before the exhibition.”
Armstrong held the piece up to the flickering candle at his table, studied it a second, then handed it back to Alex. “I can’t imagine it being important. Somebody on the tour must have dropped it. Probably some kid.”
“So you don’t want it?” Alex asked.
“Nope, feel free to put it in your Lost and Found, if it makes you feel better.”
Armstrong’s explanation was perfectly reasonable, and Alex felt embarrassed when he realized his overactive imagination had most likely been at work again.
As he tucked the metal piece back into his pocket, Alex asked, “Are you making any progress in the case?”
Armstrong looked around before he spoke. “This is strictly between us, but I don’t have a thing to go on. It’s driving me crazy.”
“No leads at all?”
Armstrong shrugged. “I’m trying to track down Cliff’s ex-wife, and I’ve got the state boys looking into the stolen gem market. They’ve got contacts way out of my league, but so far, there hasn’t been a whisper about the emerald. There were no prints on the letter opener, so that was a wash, too.”
“How about in the room itself?” Alex asked.
“You’re kidding, right? Most of Elkton Falls passed through that room, and a ton of strangers we’ll never be able to identify. I told Irene not to waste her time.”
“So somebody’s going to get away with murder,” Alex said bluntly.
“Now I didn’t say that,” Armstrong grumbled. “These things take time, you know that, Alex.” He looked at the lean salad and bare drizzle of dressing, then added, “Listen, I’m on the clock, so I need to get to this.”
“Sorry to interrupt you, Sheriff. Enjoy your meal,” Alex said as he headed back to the table.
Elise asked, “So what did he say? Did he think it was a clue?”
“Just that I was probably losing my mind,” Alex said. When he explained Armstrong’s theory about the metal piece, Mor said, “You know, I hate to admit it, but old Strong Arms is probably right.”
“I don’t know,” Elise said with some hesitation.
Emma said, “Why don’t we forget about it tonight and just have a nice meal? Irma’s outdone herself, hasn’t she?”
Mor said, “I second that motion.”
Later, after they were finished with their meals, Mor pushed his empty plate toward the center of the table and said, “That ravioli was so good I think I’ll have another order.”
He was flagging their waiter down when Emma said, “Mor Pendleton, don’t you think you’ve had enough? Honestly, two plates of food in one sitting?”
He grinned at his bride. “Emma, I’ve been known to eat three helpings when the mood strikes me. You know that. It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”
“You’re going to get chubby,” she said.
“I don’t think so, but if I do, that means there will be more of me to love.”
Emma said, “Now that you have a wife, you need to take better care of yourself.”
“Yes, Mom, I promise,” Mor said with a grin.
Emma started to explode, Alex could see it in the flash in her eyes, then she took a deep breath, and instead of arguing, let out a long, healthy laugh.
Elise asked, “Are you all right?”
Emma wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and said, “I am now.” She turned to her husband and said, “I’ve been dreadful lately, haven’t I?”
“Just since the honeymoon,” Mor said.
“Okay, I deserved that. No more bossing, no more mothering. You’re a big boy, Mor Pendleton. I know in my heart you managed fine on your own without me all these years. I’ll try to do better.”
Mor, obviously touched by her declaration, said, “And I’ll try not to give you so much grief.” He squeezed his bride’s hand and said, “Hey, this marriage deal has a pretty steep learning curve, doe
sn’t it?”
Emma bussed him with a kiss, then said, “Don’t worry; you’re starting to get the hang of it.”
The waiter approached and asked if he could help them.
Mor said, “We’ll take the check, whenever you’re ready.”
Emma said, “Oh, have your ravioli, I don’t mind.”
Mor admitted sheepishly, “To be honest with you, I ate so much rich stuff on that cruise, I could stand to skip an extra serving now and then.”
When the waiter came back, Alex fully expected there to be two checks. Instead, he slid a single bill in front of Mor. Alex reached for his wallet and asked, “Should we split it ourselves or have him make out another check?”
Mor said, “Nonsense, my friend, dinner is on us.”
Alex said, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got ours.”
Emma said, “Please, Alex, let us treat. You two have done so much for us. It would be our pleasure.”
Alex was about to extend his protest when Elise reached across the table and squeezed his hand. As she did so, she said, “Thank you so much. It was wonderful.”
Alex added grudgingly, “At least let me get the tip.”
Mor started to reply when Emma spoke up. “That would be fine.” Then she looked at Elise and said, “You know what? They may both be trainable, at that.”
Elise’s laughter was as gentle as the breeze. “Let’s hope so.”
Mor pulled out his credit card, handed it to the waiter, then said to Alex, “I don’t know about you, buddy, but I think I’m insulted.”
“Hey, at least they didn’t say we were both hopeless.”
“I guess that’s something,” Mor admitted.
Irma hugged them all as they left, and Alex was happy to see that the place was starting to fill up. Word of Monet’s prices must have been burning up the kudzu gossip vine. Irma had a flush to her cheeks that hadn’t been there before as she saw the prodigals returning in such force.
Outside, it was starting to rain, and the two couples went their separate ways. Alex held Elise’s door open for her and then climbed into the driver’s side of his aging, gray Ford pickup track just before the deluge hit. It was tense driving back to the inn in the storm, and Elise sat there quietly, watching the road right along with him. What normally took fifteen minutes to drive took them nearly forty-five, and by the time they pulled up Point Road, Alex could feel the muscles in his back strained from the intensity of his vigil.
