'In the Gorge. Mayor Henry picked him up at the Ithaca airport, I guess, and they went off for one of those S. O. A. P. meetings. Anyhow, when the mayor brought him in this morning, I told him that you were in jail for murder and that's why you couldn't meet him yourself.' She smiled sunnily. 'I remembered what you told all us employees about being meticulously courteous to guests, and being in jail was a pretty dam good reason you couldn't meet him.'
'I suppose it was,' said Quill. She reflected briefly on the fact that she'd spent the best part of the previous night in the cold embrace of a corpse, survived with seeming equanimity the unexpected (and emotionally cataclysmic) return of her lover, and that it was twenty-four-year-old Dina Muir who was going to drive her to hysterics. 'And after you'd welcomed a best-selling writer with the news that his host was in the slam for murder one, what did he do? I mean other than ask about the availability of rooms at the Marriott?'
'He had a reservation here. John made it himself. Well, he walked in with Mayor Henry and, Quill, you know me, I'm not one to gossip, because gossip is tacky, but my goodness, they smelled!'
'They smelled? Like what?'
'Like... like... I don't... dirt.'
'They smelled like dirt?'
'Yep. And the mayor looked like he hadn't shaved since the elections, and of course Mr. Blight has that ratty- sorry-that long beard, and there were all kinds of twigs in it.'
'Dina. I'm starving. I want my breakfast.'
'You want me to hurry up,' Dina said wisely. 'So they came in smelling like - you know - and Tutti was bombing around waiting for that icky Claire to come downstairs for breakfast, and Tutti started prophesying the minute she saw Evan Blight. He said she - Tutti, I mean - had the spirit of the ancient wise women, and like that. He was very impressed.' She added with a slight tone of injury, 'I mean, you and Meg dismiss things you can't hear or touch or see awfully easily, Quill, if you don't mind my saying so. So she got him to come to the s‚ance.'
'What did she proph - never mind. I don't think I want to know. Where is this s‚ance going to be held?'
'The Proven‡al suite. Where Tutti's staying. Quill?'
'What.'
'Could I? I mean, I definitely, absolutely did NOT ask Tutti to invite me, but I did say that I was pretty good at taking care of little dogs.'
'You mean you want to go to the s‚ance?' Quill thought about this. Prone to breathless exaggeration as she was, there was always a strong foundation of truth to Dina's stories. And if Evan Blight and the men of S. O. A. P. had been rattling around the woods last night, she wanted details. Even details from Beyond.
'Sure. I don't mind if you take the time. Ask Kathleen if she'll cover the desk for you.'
'Great. Look. You have a good breakfast.'
'Thanks.'
Quill walked through the foyer and into the dining room.
At nine o'clock on a Thursday morning in December, the Inn had very few breakfast guests. She hadn't been expecting Claire McIntosh (who normally rose around eleven), or Elaine (who never seemed to sleep at all, but roamed the halls in agitated fits), or Al Santini, but she wasn't surprised to see them at the table overlooking the Gorge. Vittorio sat with them, looking ill-tempered.
She was surprised to see Marge Schmidt and Betty Hall. Their Hemlock Hometown Diner did a brisk business in the mornings, beginning with the dairy farmers who came in after milking at six a.m., and ending with the early coffee breaks at ten-thirty of the business people on Main Street. Quill wondered who was covering the shop for them, then figured Marge had probably left out the coffee urn, cups, some of Betty's fry cakes, and a coffee can for cash.
Marge waved her over. Quill, whose stomach was now positively demanding breakfast, gave a cheerful wave in response and kept on going toward the kitchen. Marge placed two fingers between her lips and whistled, then pointed to the empty chair at their table.
Senator Santini jumped and looked nervously over his shoulder. Claire sent a sullen glare in Marge and Betty's direction. Elaine twisted her napkin into a tortured shape then dropped it on the floor. Vittorio shoveled Gruyere scrambled eggs into his mouth and didn't react at all.
Kathleen came bounding through the swinging doors from the kitchen, and Quill stopped her with a gesture. 'Could you bring me some breakfast? I'll be at table five with Marge and Betty.'
'Sure thing. Meg's whipped up a bunch of stuff. Raspberry crepes, eggs Florentine, some of that Breton sausage. And fresh grapefruit juice.'
'Great.'
'Uh-Quill? Could I talk to you a second before you talk to Ms. Schmidt?' Kathleen gazed at the carpet and rubbed at a spot with one toe. 'Hmm. I thought Doreen got that out. She sure hates that little dog.'
'What is it, Kath? If I don't get some breakfast I'm going to fall over dead.'
'Yeah. Sure. Look, Quill. About David.'
'Your brother?'
'He was just following that jerk's orders. Dorset, I mean. And now that Myles is back...'
Quill checked her watch. As far as she could tell, Myles had been back in Hemlock Falls for approximately forty-five minutes. And apparently the whole town knew it.
Kathleen took a deep breath. 'Could you maybe put in a good word for him? For Davy, I mean?' She made a face in the direction of Marge and Betty's table. 'There's a lot of folks around here that are pretty upset with him. That hidden camera wasn't his idea, you know. It was Dorset and that judge.'
