A Touch of the Grape: A Hemlock Falls Mystery (Hemlock Falls Mystery series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

un-trimmed, left scratches in the polished wood. "No," Quill said without heat. "No clawing or pawing. If Doreen sees you do that, she'll have your guts for garters."
    The dog crept nearer, sideways, shyly, quivering with a kind of terror Quill couldn't imagine. "Hey," she said softly. "Hey."
    "If you give him a name, it's all over," said a quiet voice behind her. The dog looked up, cringed, then made a rush for the front door.
    "John," Quill said. "Darn it!"
    The dog turned at the sound of her voice, gave one more "woof," and limped out the door and across the lawn at a run. Quill got to her feet, brushing at her skirt, and started out after him.
    "Want some help?" John closed the office door behind him, and stepped into the little area behind the reception desk where Dina used to sit before they had to lay her off. "I'll be happy to track him. Use some of the knowledge passed down to me by my ancestors."
    "Oh, ha." John's coppery skin and coal-black hair would have identified him as Amerind anywhere, even if he weren't fond of bringing it into the conversation. "No. Let him go. I called the Humane Society this morning to see if they could catch him. He needs some help, John. Selena Summerhill's taken the Animal Control officer job and she says he may have kidney damage." To her absolute amazement, she felt tears prickling behind her eyes. She coughed heavily into her hand.
    "From a kick?"
    Quill nodded, unable to speak.
    "Then let him alone. He'll either get better on his own or he won't."
    "That's cruel!"
    "Quill." John's tone was patient. "If you did get hold of him and did get him to a vet, what do you think the vet would do? A kidney transplant?"
    "Don't be silly."
    "The treatment for this kind of thing is to leave the animal alone. Let it rest, and let nature take its course."
    "But he needs food and water."
    "Then I guess he'll just have to get it near the garden shed, where you've been putting out food for the last three nights. Truly, Quill, my guess is that he'll be fine. We, on the other hand, are not."
    "Do you want to go into the office?"
    "Let's walk, instead. Maybe we'll find the dog."
    They walked out the front door onto the lawn. The rain had cleared, and a brilliant sun spread light over the daffodils, the early tulips, the crocus. In silent agreement, they headed toward the Gorge, the sound and the rush of the water drawing Quill, as it did at least once a day, to the brink of the precipice.
    She was conscious of John beside her, in a way she hadn't been before. Quill was tall for a woman, close to five eight, but John towered over her. His physical pres ence was strong, but quiet. Unlike Myles, who was just as tall, and as broadly built, she never felt challenged with John, but relaxed, almost content, as if there were no need to tap into the kind of energy that suffused all her closest relationships. There was no relaxed feeling now. Just tension.
    They stood looking at the water for a long moment. "So how bad is it?" she finally asked.
    "We need to make more cuts."
    "But we've already made deep ones. We've laid off practically everyone, and cut the remaining staff's hours to zero. Meg's about to collapse from handling that kitchen all on her own. We've closed the boutique at the mini-mall. Meg's been specializing in charcuterie, just like we did when we opened eight years ago, because it's cheaper cuts of meat. We've tried that Advanced Menu Reservations thing, where people order their food before they come, so we don't have to keep inventory as high. We've switched almost entirely to New York State wines, and cut the cellar budget for the imported wines down to almost nothing. I don't know what other cuts we can make, John. If we cut breakfasts and lunches, we'll lose our double star rating from the Caravan Association. If we cut the menu, Meg's going to lose that third star for sure. What more can we do?"
    "I've done the numbers …"
    "You always have the numbers." Quill rubbed her forehead. Her hand