Murder in Death's Door County Read Online Free PDF Page B

approached the bar, out of the
corner of my eye, I saw a pile of boxes moving towards me. The boxes looked
like they could topple over any minute. I couldn’t tell whether they were full
or empty.
    “Out of my way! Out of my way!” said the
boxes.
    I turned towards the unseen voice, “Hey!
Do you need some help?”
    “Sure, can you grab the top box?”
    “I think so,” I said, as I stood on my
tiptoes to reach the box. As I grabbed it, a smiling face framed by curly
blonde hair beamed down at me. The bartender was a taller-than-average
woman, about my age, with long, curly blonde hair held back with a headband.
    “Thanks! I think I grabbed more than I
realized!” The smiling face laughed. After putting the rest of her load down on
the bar and gesturing for me to do the same, she put out her hand, “Hi! I’m
Lizzy Holloway. Are you staying here?”
    We shook hands, “My name is Annie Malone
and, yes, I’m staying here. And I need to talk to someone about extended rates?”
    “Oh sure, no problem. Kitty’s the owner
and she can help you with that, but she’s out right now.”
    She said that last bit over her
shoulder. After rummaging around in the cupboards under the cash register, she
came back with a binder.
    “Yep, I see you right here. Okay, you’re
in Room 4. Here’s your key. Yeah, I know, we’re an inn—we have old-fashioned
keys here.” She scrunched up her face.
    “Oh and Annie, I almost forgot, you get
a couple of coupons for your stay here. You get a free sampler platter of our
micro-brewed beers and a free drink anytime.” She put her hand to the side of
her mouth, and stage whispered, “But come right back down and I’ll give you
another free drink for helping me out.”
    “In that case, I’ll be right back down,”
I said. “I’m famished! I just realized I forgot to eat breakfast in my
excitement to get up here.”
    With my free hand, I grabbed the
coupons, thanked her again, and negotiated my gear up the narrow staircase to
my room. Housed in an old Cape Cod-type house, the inn had eight rooms. I’m not
sure whether it was an attempt at “old-world charm” or cost issues, but the
place had a sense of being a bit rundown. The seeming fragility of the building
kind of lent credence to the rumors of the place being haunted. Supposedly,
famous gangster Al Capone’s stepson haunted the roof and attic.
    Once I put my stuff in the room and
washed up, I grabbed my purse, made my way back down to the bar, and settled
in. It felt good to be sitting still. For the past couple of days, I felt like
I had been moving non-stop.
    “Do you need a drink?” Without waiting
for my answer, she went behind the bar, opened a bottle, and started pouring.
Done pouring, she thrust the heady brew at me, “Here, I owe you. The first one
is on me and I think you’ll really like this beer. If you don’t, I’ll get you
something else. Thanks again for helping me out!” She walked away to help the
only other patron at the bar, a guy who looked like he had been sitting there
for ages.
    Taking a deep breath, I let out a huge
sigh, and took a long drink from the beer.
    “Wow!” Everyone else in the bar turned
to look at me (fortunately, there were only three other people there, Lizzy,
the other bar patron, and one of the kitchen guys getting a soda). I turned
bright red, and sheepishly said, “Sorry. That’s just really good.” The Lighthouse
had taken advantage of Door County’s cherry orchards and created a wonderful
beer.
    Completely embarrassed, I fumbled around
in my purse for a book. I had resolved to bury my shame in a book while I ate
lunch.
    “Whatcha reading?” Lizzy popped over
just as I pulled out the book.
    “A mystery.”
    “Who’s it by?”
    “M.C. Beaton.”
    “Oh, she’s such a fun read!”
    “She is, isn’t she?” Warming to the
topic, I began to lose my embarrassment.
    “Oh, definitely! Glad you like that
beer. It’s my favorite, too. Guys don’t usually like it, so