'Couldn't it have fallen into the river?' said John.
'It's not likely,' said Quill crossly. 'There's an enclosure there, remember? The bolt would have fallen inside the fence. I looked, and it wasn't there.'
'It depends on when it came off,' John persisted. 'If it snapped under the tension of Gil' s weight in the ducking I stool, it could have flown quite a distance.'
'Not that far,' Quill said. 'I looked at the one that was still in place on the other side of the tractor. That bolt has to weigh a pound at least. I just can't see something that heavy flying lover the fence into the river.'
'But who'd want to kill Gil Gilmeister?' said Meg. 'I mean, I other than the poor shmucks who bought cars from him. And how could anybody know that Gil and those two were going down to the duck pond for a drunken 'rehearsal'? More than that, how could this supposed murderer be sure that Gil was going to sit in the thing? The only person scheduled to use it was Mavis.'
'The Devil's abroad tonight,' said Doreen.
'Oh, it is not,' said Meg. 'Honestly, Doreen, just leave it to Myles. He'll do his usual bang-up investigation and clear it up in no time.'
'Thorough, is he?' asked John.
'You haven't been with us long enough to see him in action,' said Meg, 'but he's just terrific. He was a senior-grade detective with the New York City police force before he moved here.'
'He's too young to have retired,' said John.
'He didn't retire, he quit,' said Meg. 'Just got fed to the back teeth. Said he was losing his sense of proportion. Thing is, he's got all kinds of great connections from his days on the force. What crime there is around here gets solved really fast.'
'You didn't know about Myles, John?' asked Quill.
'Come to think of it, you two don't see much of each other,' said Meg, 'but you'll see him in action now. If Quill doesn't solve it first.' She rolled her eyes at her sister.
John's face softened with what might have been a smile.
'I wish you luck, Quill. Here - ' He dug his hand into his jeans pocket and dropped his Indian-head nickel into her palm. 'Maybe this will help.'
'From your grandfather, the Chief?' She wrapped her fingers around the coin. 'Did you inherit any of his tracking skills? If we pooled our talents, we could solve this before Super Sheriff even files a report.'
John was silent a moment. 'I'll leave it to the experts. Good night, Quill, Meg.' He touched Doreen briefly on the shoulder, an unusual gesture for him, and padded silently from the kitchen.
'Well, Hawkshaw, what now?' said Meg. 'Shall we haul out the magnifying glass, the scene-of-the-crime kit, and the rubber hose?'
'The only thing I'm going to solve now is my fatigue. It's after one o'clock. I'm going to lock up and go to bed.'
'I'll do it,' said Doreen. 'You look bushed. You too, Meg.' She shook her head dourly, the omnipresent cigarette dripping ashes on Meg's wooden counter. 'The Devil's presence is here tonight. Just like the Revrund Willy Max warned us in Boca Raton. I shall seek Satan our in the dark corners of this place.'
'Be quiet about it,' advised Meg, 'or you'll wake up the guests.'
'Maybe some of 'em should be woke up,' said Doreen smacking her lips. 'See the signs for their ownselves.'
'The only sign I want to see is the face of my alarm clock at six A.M. tomorrow,' said Meg.
Quill, agreeing, went upstairs to bed, and fell into an exhausted sleep. She was awakened by the shrilling of the house phone.
'Miss Quilliam? Sarah?'
Groggy with sleep, Quill blinked at the bedside clock. 'It's eight o'clock!' she said into the phone. 'Damn!' She shook the clock. The alarm, which had been set for six, burst into the morning silence like a chain saw. Quill smacked it against the night table and the ringing stopped.
'Miss Quilliam? It's me, Dina. You know, at the front desk. I'm sorry to get you up.'
'It's way past time to get up,' said Quill. Her thoughts soggy, she said belatedly, 'Why are you whispering?'
'It's the guests.'
'What?'
Dina raised her voice. There was a suspicion of a shriek in it. 'The guests! They're milling around here like... like... hornets.'
'They're angry? What hap - Never mind. I'll be right down.'
She grabbed the first clothes at hand, a denim skirt and a navy blue T-shirt, hastily dressed, and headed for the lobby. The orthodontist, his wife, their little boy, Mavis Collinwood, and Keith Baumer were clotted in front of Dina. They did resemble hornets after prey. They broke into a buzzing whine of exclamations as Quill descended the staircase.
'Here she is!' Dina said. Relief washed over her like water over a thirsty prospector. 'Miss Quilliam, there's this sort of problem...' She trailed off helplessly.
'Why don't you go into my office, Dina, and take care of the phones. Have you called John?'
'Yes, but he didn't answer.' 'Call the kitchen and ask Meg to get someone to find him. Now - ' She turned to
