Murder Well-Done Read Online Free PDF Page B

Syracuse."

"I've got lots of time." Quill wriggled her toes in the warmth of the fire, The kitchen was redolent with cinnamon, sage, and garlic. Meg had left the Thermo glass doors to her grill open when she'd removed the roast. Every now and then a bit of cracking fell from the rotisserie spit onto the flames with a hiss. The smell of seared pork and the warmth of the fire contrasted pleasantly with the wind-whipped snow outside.

The back door banged and Bjarne the Finnish sous- chef burst into the room,

"I am late," he announced. He was very tall - as most of the Finnish students seemed to be - and had a ruddy, hearty sort of face with bright blue eyes.

"So you are," said Meg, "Don't take off your coat. I want you to deliver this pig."

"It is a beautiful pig," said Bjarne, "A prince of a pig."

"It is, isn't it?" said Meg, pleased. "It's for the S. O. A. P. meeting."

"Ah," said Bjarne, with an air of enlightenment.

"You've heard about them, too?" asked Meg,

"Oh, yes."

"Have you been to a meeting, Bjarne?"

He shook his head.

"Well, take this pig and see if you can crash it. Then report back to us, Quill and I want you to be a spy."

"I don't," said Quill. "Who cares what goes on at those meetings?"

"I do. Ever since the Chamber of Commerce split into these two factions, the village hasn't been the same. It's depressing. It's depressing me and everyone else. Although, to be fair, it's not what's depressing you. This business with Myles is what's depressing you."

"Stop," said Quill. "It's not that the women aren't incredibly curious about S. O. A. P. Marge Schmidt thinks they hold sacrificial rites under the statue of General Hemlock in the park. Betty Hall thinks they toss the bodies into the gorge because Esther West told her she's heard weird noises at night near the waterfall."

"Esther thinks The X-Files is based on factual information from the FBI," Quill pointed out. "She's not what I'd call a reliable source."

"The X-Files is what's going to happen now that the Republicans have been reelected," Meg said darkly.

"I know what happens at the men's group," Bjarne offered, to Meg's surprise. "There are drums. Drums are an important part of the ritual. The Branch of the Root connects the hand and the heart and the" - his pale blue eyes looked wistfully down at Meg - "male root. Through the drum. The root of the primitive puts us in touch with ourselves. They chant. They eat. And beat drums."

Meg, who was short, bent her head back to look Bjarne in the eye. "How do you know? Nobody's even sure what the acronym means."

Bjarne shrugged. "I hear. From the other students. At the hotel school. This S. O. A. P. is the Search for Our Authentic Primitive. It is perhaps based in a true Norse heritage. The heritage of the dominant, all-conquering male. There is a warrior code, involving this pig. Pigs are well-known hunter-gatherers of the animal kingdom. They are a forest animal, living off of roots and berries. There is a spiritual link to the earth when you eat a pig. This is not merely a pig. This is an emblem for the wild boar. Wild boar is warrior food. The strong, the heroic, the conqueror warrior male is very Finnish. This S. O. A. P. search is a familiar one to us Finns."

"We Finns," Meg said, a little testily. "Norse. Indian. Druid. Whatever. It's hooey. If I catch you joining these bozos, Bjarne, I'll turn you blue myself. With a rolling pin."

Bjarne grinned. Meg's temper was a matter of legend among the Cornell students who apprenticed in her kitchen.

"Besides, in this weather you'll catch cold and sneeze allover the sauces."

Bjarne frowned. "This cold, it is nothing. You should be in Helsinki in November. Besides, Finns don't catch cold. We are quite tough."

Meg planted her wooden spoon firmly in the middle of Bjarne's chest. "Wrap the pig. Then deliver it to the park. To the statue of General Hemlock. And forget spying and get back here fast. We've got a lot to do today."

Quill looked past Meg,