A Taste for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

thump. She was tired. Her feet hurt. If Edward Lancashire was from the Department of Health, the Inn could be in trouble. She had Marge to fence with and Clarissa's stupid speech to memorize. It'd be another three hours before she could even think of going to bed. If this turkey pushed it, he was going to find out just how prickly she could be. She'd admired Mrs. Hallenbeck's beady stare. She tried it. Baumer jumped a little in his chair. She said politely, "Are you ready to order, sir? I can recommend the Red Fish in Lime, or the Ginger Soy Tenderloin. Either is delicious."

Baumer dropped the menu onto the table, knocking his knife and fork onto the floor. Quill bent over to pick them up. He slipped his hand past her knee up her thigh. She disengaged with the ease of long practice, took the place setting from table six, and laid fresh silverware next to his plate.

Baumer closed the leather-covered menu with an exaggerated pursing of his lips. "Hemlock Inn," he mused. He looked arch. Quill braced herself, then lip-synched silently with him, "Sure I can trust the chef?"

"We're named for the Hemlock Groves, Mr. Baumer, not the poisonous herb. You must have noticed the trees when driving in. A lot of our guests like to walk the path to the foot of the gorge at this time of year. The hemlocks are in full bloom."

She deflected the invitation to join him in a walk after dinner, with gritted teeth, and took his order for the New York strip, medium, no veg, extra sour cream and butter on the baked potato. She cheered up. That meal and the two Manhattans preceding it forecast a short life of waitress-harassing. She crossed the mauve carpeting toward the kitchen, and stopped at the Hallenbeck table. Mavis had teased her hair into a big bubble. The scent of hairspray fought with the perfume of the scarlet lilies in the middle of the table. "How is everything, Mavis, Mrs. Hallenbeck? Are you comfortable? Was your dinner all right?"

"It's just lovely here," said Mavis, "and the room is wonderful. The food! Why, it's just the best I've ever had."

"I am having hot water and lemon after my meal," pronounced Mrs. Hallenbeck. "It's a habit I acquired while traveling abroad with my husband." She lifted her chin. "We prefer England. Although this place is quite English, for an American restaurant." She paused and fixed Quill with a modified version of The Glare. "I assume there is no charge for the hot water?"

"No," said Quill. Then as she reflected on the probability of Mrs. Hallenbeck's next question, "Just for the meal itself."

"Mavis," said Mrs. Hallenbeck disapprovingly, "had the tournedos. Quite the most expensive thing on the menu."

Mavis blushed, and Quill said curiously, "Have you and Mavis been together very long, Mrs. Hallenbeck?"

"Mavis is my companion. We are both impoverished widows." She waved a gnarled hand at Quill. The third finger of her left hand held a diamond the size of an ice rink. "We are companions in loss, on an adventure. I assume that we are eligible for a senior citizen's discount?"

Quill ignored the latter half of this statement and said warmly, "I hope you both find adventure. You're going to stay for the whole week of Hemlock's History Days? Admission is free."

"We will consider it," said Mrs. Hallenbeck regally. She sat up straighter, if that were possible, and said, "Move, please. You are blocking my view of the entrance." Quill stepped sideways. "Mavis! I recognize that person. What is her name?"

Quill turned around and groaned. Marge Schmidt stumped in. She'd exchanged her blue bowling jacket for a pink one, which did nothing to soften her resemblance to an animated tank. Marge's turret eyes swung in their direction.

"Marge!" squealed Mavis. "Coo-ee!" She waved energetically.

"Mavis!" Marge bellowed. She marched up to the table. "So you made it okay!" Mavis got up. The two women embraced. Mavis squealed again. Marge thumped her back with bluff good humor.

"This is a friend of yours, Mavis?"