chair next to the four-poster held a crumpled envelope. Quill picked it up. It was empty. The return address was for the Golden Pillar Travel Agency. Typed on the front of the envelope were the words: 'Enclosed, please find your ticket! Thank you for your business.' It was addressed by hand to Marlon Guppa.
Quill opened the armoire: empty. Maybe Santini'd stopped off at the Croh Bar in town after skiing and forgotten the time. She'd known quite a few Hemlockians to stop off at the Croh Bar and forget what day of the week it was. Except that he wouldn't take his suitcase, his clothes, his briefcase, and the contents of an envelope from a travel agency to go skiing, or drink at the Croh Bar, or go anywhere at all in Hemlock Falls.
Poor Claire. Poor Myles. She picked up the phone by the bed and dialed the kitchen. Meg answered, her voice impatient.
'Is Myles there?'
'I was just about to feed him. I will feed him and my twenty guests if you'll get off the phone!'
'Tell him it looks like Santini's skipped town. I'm in his room and everything's gone.' There was a short silence. 'Wow,' said Meg. 'Sorry I snapped. Well, there's one good thing. At least I won't be serving a murderer.'
Quill thought of Tutti and her two 'boys.' 'I wouldn't be too sure about that.'
The Mclntoshes had taken a pair of adjoining rooms on the same floor as the Adams suite. Quill let herself out of Santini's room and walked down the hall to 246. She mentally rehearsed a few lines: Elaine, Vittorio. I'm so sorry, but the senator seems to have skipped. Very probably with the cash from the murder of Nora Cahill in his pocket. And to avoid prosecution for two murders.
She raised her hand to knock and heard the sound of angry voices; Vittorio's harsh and bullying, Elaine's soft and tearful. Quill turned away. She'd go downstairs and give the room a call from the front desk. Vittorio's voice rose; there was the sound of a blow. Elaine cried out.
Quill's reaction was instant and unconsidered. She whirled and pounded on the door. The voices within stopped, except for the soft sounds of Elaine's tears. Quill pounded on the door again. Vittorio jerked it open and pushed his angry bulk into the hall. 'What the hell do you want?'
'Tutti was a little concerned and asked me to come up and find you. Dinner's waiting.'
'Beat it.' Quill placed her palm against Vittorio's shoulder and shoved him out of the way. She walked into the bedroom. It was chaotic: clothes were draped over every available surface, cosmetics littered the small dressing table under the window, and three suitcases lay open on the floor. It was the bedroom of an untidy child.
Elaine sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her wrist. She was in a silk full slip, pale pink. She looked at Quill with swimming eyes.
Vittorio came partway in and half-knocked, half-slammed the open door with his fist. He was wearing a dinner jacket. The smell of a heavy after-shave - Polo, Quill thought - floated across the room.
'You coming down, Lanie?' She sat very still.
'Elaine!'
She stirred. 'Yes, Vic. I'll be right there.'
'You. It's Quilliam, right?' He jerked his head toward the hall. 'I told you to beat it.'
'I'll just give Elaine a hand.'
He gave a short, unpleasant laugh. 'Suit yourself.'
'Close the door on your way out,' Quill said softly.
Elaine jumped when it slammed shut. Quill sat down next to her on the bed and gently lifted her arm. 'This is why you wear the long-sleeved blouses?'
'He doesn't mean it,' Elaine said, so quietly that Quill had to bend her head to hear her.
Quill touched her wrist gently. 'That's already pretty red. And the ones farther up look old. It must have been going on for a while.'
Elaine dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex. 'My make-up's a mess. And I've got to get down there to the dinner.' She got up and crossed to the dressing table.
'Elaine, there're lots of people that can help you. There's even a group in the village, attached to the hospital. It's a shelter. The woman that runs it is terrific. Why don't you let me give her a call?'
Elaine dabbed at her face with a powder puff, then reapplied her eyeliner.
'Meg's good - um - friend is our local internist. He's a pretty good listener. Would you like to talk to him?'
Elaine picked up a red lipstick, set it down, and selected a gloss. She turned and went to the closet and took out a long filmy dress in pink. Full sleeves. High collar. She bent to step into the dress.
Quill's stomach lurched. She pinched her own knee hard, then managed to say lightly, 'I didn't know Vittorio smoked.'
A faint smile crossed Elaine's face. She pulled her slip away from her chest and looked down at her breasts. 'He quit for almost twenty years. This business with Al got him started again.'
'What business with AI?'
She shook her head.
'Can I get you some antibiotic cream?'
'I'll be fine.'
'You shouldn't let those bums go. And you shouldn't irritate them with cloth.' Quill's voice rose; she was shaking with anger. 'Why don't you do something to help yourself? And if you can't, let me. Does Claire know?'
