Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery) Page 8

  For now, though, I scanned the menu, then ordered a salad and grilled bass. Had the bass been caught in this lake? Possibly, since it was one of the kinds of fish that were plentiful here, along with trout, catfish, and more—some of which were stocked by the local lake association to encourage tourists.

  Reed was on the same fishy wavelength, since he ordered trout. He got a beer, though, while I chose a glass of imported Pinot Grigio. I could always order a second if I needed it for fortification—although the fact that I had driven here might nix that idea.

  When our drinks arrived, Reed lifted his glass in a toast. I looked into his smiling brown eyes and felt pleased that not only was I here, but I was in wonderful company.

  I took a sip of my wine.

  But before I could take a second, I saw three figures suddenly loom around our table.

  “Have you no shame?” demanded the woman.

  “What are you doing here?” asked the older of the two men.

  The other man was Harris, and though I hadn’t paid much attention to what they looked like clear across the lobby, I figured that the couple with him was his parents, the senior Ethmans. The ones who owned this resort. I’d heard they didn’t live in Knobcone Heights right now.

  “I’m here to have dinner,” I responded as cordially as I could muster. “Apparently you’re the ones with no shame, since you’re causing a scene for no reason. As I told Harris, I’m sorry for your loss. All of you. Now, if you’ll please leave us alone, I want to enjoy my meal.”

  They looked ready to scream, but just then another couple joined us.

  “Mom, Dad, I don’t think it’s the right time or place for this,” said the woman, who looked around Harris’s age. His sister? “Please, let’s go to your room now, okay? Harris, why don’t you show them which one they’ll have for tonight?”

  Without another word, the older couple and Harris left. I looked at the newcomers with a sense of relief.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That was rather … uncomfortable.”

  “Well, don’t get comfortable yet,” the woman snapped. “I was just trying to defuse this situation for the sake of Harris and this resort. I’m his sister Elise, and I know who you are, Carrie. Go ahead and stay for dinner, since you’re here. But in case you don’t know it, I’m in charge here now, at least in the interim till a decision is made about who’ll manage this resort. So I can tell you—when you’re done with your meal, don’t ever come back.”

  EIGHT

  I FELT AS THOUGH Elise had first hugged me, then slapped me in the face. Even if I knew her, I wouldn’t have wanted either from her.

  But I did like eating here at the resort now and then. And the fact I’d been uninvited wouldn’t stop me.

  In fact, I now felt even more like returning soon. Very soon.

  Maybe Elise didn’t want me here because she was hiding something … like the fact she was the one who’d killed her sister-in-law.

  As I watched both couples and Harris stomp away, I realized that Reed was talking. “ … We could just leave now, and I wouldn’t mind stiffing them with the bill under these circumstances. That was entirely uncalled for.”

  I looked at him. His great-looking face was twisted into an angry scowl on my behalf, and I had an urge to run to his side of the table and kiss him. But he might misunderstand that. I definitely was attracted to him and appreciated his concern, and I was interested in seeing where our new relationship—if it was a relationship—might lead.

  I didn’t really need a champion, though—a man who’d slay dragons on my behalf. If I ran into any dragon that needed slaying, I’d take care of it. Although, as a vet tech, I might instead choose to find the appropriate anti-anxiety med to calm the creature without permanently harming it.

  Since Reed was a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, I could even ask him to prescribe the drug.

  “It’s okay,” I said quietly, giving him as big a smile as I could muster, although I had a feeling it appeared sad. “I don’t want to give her or any of them the satisfaction of my leaving.”

  He didn’t argue with me. In fact, he gave a decisive nod. “I’m with you, Carrie, all the way.”

  I turned my head to see which nearby diners might be watching us, but most were looking studiously down at their plates or at whoever sat across from them. Good. They were polite, even if their hosts weren’t.

  Our food had just been served when someone else came over to our table, the man who had arrived with Elise. He was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and an uncomfortable look on his mustached face. “Carrie?” he asked.

  I nodded as I braced myself for another onslaught, holding my hand up slightly when I saw that Reed was about to rise and face the guy.

  “I’m Walt Hainner. Elise’s husband. I want to apologize on her behalf, and on behalf of the rest of the Ethmans. No one should have acted that way with you. Not unless, or until, the police arrest you for … well, you know.” His smile was weak, as if he’d tried unsuccessfully to crack a joke.

  I knew that name. He was the contractor that Myra said I should have hired to do the work to separate my shops. Since I’d had no need of a contractor for anything previously, and I certainly didn’t socialize with the likes of the Ethmans, I had never met him before.

  I stood to look up at him. He was tall. As far as I could tell despite the looseness of his shirt, he was muscular—not surprising for a man who built things for a living. He could easily have wielded a murderous leash around Myra’s throat and been strong enough to beat her to death with a rock …

  But he’d been kind enough to come over to apologize for his wife and in-laws. I certainly wasn’t going to accuse him—unless and until he was arrested for the murder. But did he have a motive? Most likely, since he’d known the not-very-nice woman.

  “Thank you, Walt,” I said softly. Reed had stood when I did and remained beside his chair, watching and listening but not doing anything other than sending me supportive looks. “I appreciate what you’ve said and hope your family doesn’t give you a hard time about it.” I paused, then made myself continue. “I’m sure they’re feeling terrible about what happened to Myra and are lashing out to try to ease themselves through this difficult time. My condolences to all of you.”

  His thick brown eyebrows rose. “Thanks.” He looked down at the table. “I’ll leave you to your meal now. And in case you’re wondering, you’re always welcome back.”

  For a price, was my first thought. And do you really have the authority to say that? was my second. But I just thanked him, and Reed and I resumed our seats as he walked away.

  “Maybe that was a nice thing for Walt to do,” Reed said as he took a bite of his trout, “but it shouldn’t have been necessary in the first place.”

  I placed my fork into my salad and stabbed it around a little until I had a few pieces of lettuce on it. Could I force myself to eat?

  Heck, yes. I put the lettuce in my mouth. The dressing was a tangy honey mustard, and it tasted good. I chewed and swallowed and then scooped up some of the bass. It was delicious.

  I had an appetite despite what had gone on here, and I continued to eat while sweet Reed asked me questions about my two new businesses and how I was doing with them. It really did help me keep my mind off what I didn’t want to be thinking about here. And soon, as promised, Neal joined us for coffee as we finished eating.

  No introductions were needed. Reed and Neal had met before.

  “Hey, you doing okay?” Neal asked as he sat down at my right. The Knobcone Heights Resort shirt he wore that day was light brown, another color that looked good on my handsome younger brother. But at the moment I wasn’t thrilled about his promoting this place, even though he worked here. “I saw a whole kettle of the vultures in charge of this place stomping in and then out of here,” he finished.

  I looked sideways at him. “Kettle?” Was he suggesting stewing them for dinner?

  “Well, sure.” He looked proud of himself. “That’s a gr
oup of vultures while they’re flying. They’re referred to as a committee when they’re just roosting in trees. I think there are more terms for that, too. But I learn a lot here while staffing the reception desk—and even more when I’m out and about giving hiking tours and all.”

  “A bit pretentious, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes until they met Reed’s. He was apparently trying to keep himself from laughing aloud.

  “You got the vulture part right anyway,” Reed agreed. I nodded. But Reed’s expression grew more serious. “I had the impression they were ganging up on your sister—all except Walt. Maybe. But if that—what? committee?—groups together to protect one of their own who really killed Myra, it might be hard to prove what’s true.”

  The server returned then. I’d barely noticed the attractive young lady before except to note her dark hair and friendly demeanor. But now she aimed a huge smile at Neal. “Can I bring you something?” The words weren’t exactly suggestive, but her teasing tone suggested they knew each other and perhaps had some kind of flirtation going.

  Neal confirmed this by saying, “You can bring me anything you want, Gwen,” and winking at her. “But for now, I’d like a cup of coffee.”

  “Cream?” I’d never heard that word said so suggestively before, and I blinked as I looked at Neal to get his reaction.

  “Oh yes,” was all he said.

  “Anything else I can get for you?” Her tone was normal now, and her gaze turned away from Neal toward Reed, then me.

  “We’re fine,” I said. But when she left for Neal’s coffee I asked him, “What’s going on between you two?”

  “Not really anything … yet,” he said. “We’re just having fun.”

  “I bet.” Reed’s tone was amused.

  “But I think she’d be a good resource for asking about … well, you know,” Neal continued. “I hear a lot of things at the front desk, but because Myra was our boss it wasn’t considered a smart thing to gossip about her, at least not much. But I know that some of the wait staff here not only take care of the Ethmans when they eat at the restaurant but also bring food orders to the resort’s offices for them. Even though they’ve retired from the resort, they still pretty much own it and act like they’re in charge while they’re around—maybe especially now since their chosen manager Myra is gone. Anyway, let’s talk to Gwen.”

  “Fine.” I leaned toward my brother. Quietly, I asked, “Is the gossip ban still on now? I’d think that, under the circumstances, everyone would be talking about Myra and what happened … and maybe even speculating how it happened.”

  “They are, to some extent.” Neal also kept his voice low, and Reed leaned over the table so he could hear. “Today everyone’s acting like they’re in shock, and not many of us are even hinting that we won’t miss the b—er, witch.”

  “She wielded a heavy broomstick?” I speculated, my half-grin wry.

  “I’ll say.”

  Gwen returned then and put a beige pottery mug in front of Neal. She poured coffee into it from a metal pitcher and set a small container of cream on the table. She then looked at him. “Just let me know if you’d like anything else.” She was still flirting, but I was glad to see that the look Neal leveled on her was serious.

  “Actually, there is something.” He crooked his finger to draw her closer. She frowned a little, as if she realized that this would go beyond their friendly banter. “Gwen, that’s Reed over there, and this is my sister, Carrie.” He pointed to me.

  “Hi, Reed. Hi, Carrie.” Her expression was wary. “Good to meet you both.”

  “And, Carrie and Reed, this is Gwen.”

  “Hi,” I repeated, as did Reed.

  “Gwen,” Neal said, “I’m sure you saw and heard what our … let’s call them ‘superiors’ since they like that word, even though they aren’t. What our superiors said and did around Carrie before.”

  Her face froze. “Yes, but—”

  I thought I understood what Neal was doing and decided to help, keeping my voice very low. “Gwen, I’m sorry to hear about what happened to Myra Ethman, even though, as you may have heard, I argued with her. It wasn’t much of an argument but now I’m a suspect. To protect myself, well—”

  “We, of all people, know there were plenty of people around here with motives to hurt Myra,” Neal said, taking over. “Not that we would have. But are you aware of anyone who might have been particularly angry? Maybe someone who got fired recently. Or even was just chewed out.”

  Gwen looked around, as if worried that all the patrons around us were eavesdropping. I didn’t think they could hear but understood her concern.

  “I did wonder about it,” she admitted, even as she stood taller for a moment and picked up her coffee pitcher. “This was just freshly brewed, but if you don’t think it’s hot enough I’ll bring you some more right away,” she said loud enough for others to hear. But before she left, she leaned down again and whispered, “A chef got fired recently for not getting a meal ready fast enough for those … superiors. And for not obeying their cooking orders. He was really mad.”

  “I hadn’t heard that was the reason he left,” Neal said. “That was Manfred, right?”

  “It was,” she said. “Be right back with your coffee,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the kitchen.

  “That’s Manfred Indor,” Neal explained when she was gone. “He was actually a pretty good chef. Trained at the CIA.”

  “What?” I stared at Neal, confused. “Was he a government agent?”

  “Nope. Like I said, he was a chef trained at the CIA: Culinary Institute of America. It’s in New York City.”

  I gave my brother a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Drat. I was starting to get all excited about the possibilities. An angry government agent would probably be able to kill someone and frame another person fairly easily.”

  Both my table companions laughed. I just smiled weakly.

  “If she’d been poisoned,” Neal said, “I’d definitely consider Manfred the perfect suspect.”

  Well, even if Manfred wasn’t with the CIA that most people thought of when hearing those initials, he’d still apparently been an angry guy.

  I wasn’t planning on trying to prove who’d killed Myra, of course. That was for the police. But if the authorities kept considering me as a suspect, I’d need to be able to suggest some other logical possibilities, preferably with more than just names and claims of who’d not adored Myra.

  And I already knew I wasn’t the only person who’d argued with her lately.

  I wondered where Manfred was now.

  NINE

  NEAL HAD TO RETURN to the registration desk, and soon afterward Reed and I finished our meal.

  He handled our bill. I’m not an old-fashioned wimpy woman who insists on being treated on dates. But practicality counts, so although we’d only gone out for coffee a few times since we’d met, I’d let Reed pay since he’d asked to. He’s a full-fledged, well-paid vet, while I’m a vet tech—not paid badly, but I certainly bring home less than he does. I also foot some of Neal’s bills, since I make more money than him.

  And now, especially, with my new business venture, every penny counted to me, even after my generous loan from Arvie. Plus, this was our first dinner date, and Reed had invited me—not that I’d even considered playing coy about it. I’d wanted to go out with him.

  I’d wanted to come here.

  I did, however, insist on leaving the tip, and since I appreciated Gwen’s potential clue I was even more liberal in the amount than I usually am—and I’m not particularly stingy.

  “Do you want to head out of here?” Reed asked as we strolled into the lobby. There weren’t many people around now, but Neal was still behind the registration counter.

  I took Reed’s hand and headed in Neal’s direction. We passed a couple of open doors to offices, and I noticed that the Ethmans were all gathered in one of them.

  Well, not really all the Ethmans. I hadn’t thought about him earl
ier, but there was one missing who was actually fairly nice, or at least I thought so: Les Ethman, the City Councilman who’d come to my opening party … was it just yesterday? Too bad he wasn’t here making his family members act somewhat polite, even if their mind sets were nasty.

  Mrs. Ethman—Susan, I thought her name was, Harris’s and Elise’s mother—spotted me and glared. I simply smiled and kept going, but the event helped me decide how to respond to Reed’s question about leaving. “Not yet,” I said. “Why don’t we take a walk on the beach?”

  Although it was getting late, there were lights on near the water, I’d noticed, so it wouldn’t be too dark there. I wasn’t sure if the Ethmans would notice us, but I at least would know that I was defying them, or maybe all of them but Walt Hainner. Before we were out of view, though, Susan’s husband also saw me. His name, I believed, was Trask. His glare was similar to his wife’s.

  I was good friends with quite a few senior people: Arvie and the Nashes in particular. But these Ethman seniors were anything but buddies of mine. Aging apparently didn’t always make people grow nice and kind and civil. With some, maybe, the opposite occurred.

  I knew they saw that I’d ignored their statement that I wasn’t welcome here. To rub it in further, I spoke loudly enough for them to hear. “I think the beach outside will be a great place to walk this evening.”

  I felt Reed’s slight tug on my hand and looked at him. His grin was sideways, his expression amused. He knew what I was doing. And, sweet guy that he was, he went along with me.

  “Right,” he said, also loudly. “I really enjoy walking along the beach at this resort.”

  I laughed and used the leverage caused by our clasped hands to swing our arms as we walked out one of the lobby’s rear doors and down the concrete stairs to the beach.

  The lights illuminating the vicinity were attached to the upper areas of the building. The sand was a wide path, leading to the edge of water that sparkled under the artificial radiance. We were far from being the only people there. Some were walking. Others lay on blankets or towels on the sand, mostly fully clothed. A few hardy souls in bathing suits waded into the lake despite the coolness of the late spring evening.