little bossy, but God, at that age, that's allowed.'
John shook his head. 'Move them both to the first floor.'
'Why?'
'Bad feeling.'
'Oh.' John's bad feelings were not to be taken lightly. 'About what exactly? Isn't her credit good? She's paying for both of them. Should I check with American Express? I hate doing that.'
John shrugged. 'It's not money.'
'What then, John?'
'Remember the guy from IBM?'
Quill took a deep breath. 'Of course I remember the guy from IBM. Who around here doesn't?'
'Had a bad feeling about that, too.'
'He was drunk. And high on coke. He fell over that balcony into the gorge by accident. I can't see Mrs. Hallenbeck stoned on a gallon of Rusty Nails smuggled into her room in a Thermos bottle, which is what that guy did.'
'You're the boss.' Quill knew that attitude: polite, courteous retreat. He looked at the open archway. 'More guests. I'll seat them.'
Quill's intention to grab a quick look at the script for Clarissa's speech, probe John for the real reason behind his discomfort with the widow and her companion, and finally, talk to Meg about the raw egg ban and the threat posed by Marge, got lost in the rush of the next six hours. The tea trade was followed by the Early Birds, patrons who took advantage of reduced-cost meals before seven o'clock, then the regular evening trade, and finally, at ten o'clock, a few late diners, Mrs. Hallenbeck and Mavis among them.
They ordered a dinner as enormous as their tea had been. Mavis requested a single glass of the house white, which she sipped all through the meal, and Mrs. Hallenbeck no liquor at all. On one of her trips to the kitchen, Quill hissed to John in passing, 'They're both sober as judges.'
Just after ten-thirty, Quill stopped to take a rapid survey of the tables. Mrs. Hallenbeck and Mavis were at table two by the big windows that overlooked the gardens. The man in his fifties at table seven was Keith Baumer, who'd said he was part of the overflow crowd from the sales convention at the Marriott on Route 15. Baumer slumped over the menu, smoking a cigarette and flicking the ashes onto the rug. Table twelve held another sole diner - the dark, good-looking Edward Lancashire. After careful deliberation, he'd ordered some of the specialties that had made Meg's reputation: Caesar salad, Steak Tartare, Game Hen a la Quilliam. He finished his Caesar salad with a thoughtful expression, writing briefly in a notebook by his plate.. Quill hesitated, alarmed. He looked awfully well-dressed to be a Department of Health inspector, who tended to be weedy, with thin lips and polyester sports coats. The suit on the guy seated at twelve was an Armani. Could Department of Health inspectors afford Armani?
Quill went to Baumer to take his order, one eye mistrustfully on table twelve.
'Quill,' Baumer purred, reaching up to lift her name tag away from her breast pocket. He let it fall back with a smirk. 'Let me guess. The hair. Hair that red and curly has gotta be the reason. Looks soft, though, not prickly like porcupine quills.'
Quill moved the ashtray nearer his cigarette with a pointed 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?'
