"Yes."
"I'm going to turn myself in. But not for another forty-eight hours. I'd appreciate it if you gave me some time."
"Gave you some time? You mean, you think I'd turn you in? John, how could you?"
"How could you not?" he said wryly. "You can't harbor a fugitive. I wouldn't let you, anyway."
"Just tell me where you're going to be, so I can report on my progress to you. I'm going down to the Marriott tomorrow, and I'm going to pump Mrs. Hallenbeck for everything that she knew about Mavis' affairs. Peterson's got to be connected with her somehow. And... now, this is the worst sacrifice of all, John." She paused impressively. "I'm going to eat lunch at the Hemlock Hometown Diner-Fine Food and Fast. Are you grateful, or what?"
For the first time that evening, a real smile crossed John's face. "Pretty noble, boss."
" 'Pretty noble'? I'd say that's incredibly noble." There was a hard, imperative knock at the door.
"I didn't lock it," Quill hissed, then loudly, "Just a moment, please."
The door swung open and Mrs. Hallenbeck walked into the room. "So!" she said. "You finally caught him!"
-11-
Mrs. Hallenbeck marched into Quill's quarters frail, rude and triumphant. Quill, astonished, looked at her watch: six-thirty in the morning.
"You didn't answer my phone messages," said Mrs. Hallenbeck. "I thought perhaps you didn't get them. I woke up and Mavis wasn't there to get my coffee. I always have just one cup, cut with hot water before I take my walk. Would you get it for me, please?" She sat down in the straight-back chair near the easel, and frowned at John. "What are you doing in Sarah's room? Have you spent the night here?" She lifted her chin. "If you have, I shall think twice about offering Sarah the opportunity to be in my employ." She smoothed her linen trousers with a precise hand. "Now. Tell me why I shouldn't call the police immediately. Everyone has been looking for this man."
Quill, unable to think of an adequate response, heated a cup of weak coffee in the microwave and handed it to Mrs. Hallenbeck. She sipped it and gave it back to Quill with a demand for more hot water. "You are extremely dirty," she said to John. "I suppose you have been hiding out."
"Do you remember me, Mrs. Hallenbeck? I thought you might have when you checked in three days ago, but you. didn't say anything. Did Mavis tell you about me?"
"I thought I'd seen you before. I mentioned it to Mavis. She said I was mistaken. I am rarely mistaken."
"I worked for your husband a long time ago, in the accounting department."
"My husband?" Mrs. Hallenbeck didn't seem to hear John. She mumbled slightly. Her eyes clouded. She held her coffee cup out to Quill with a wordless demand that it be taken away. Quill put it in the small sink in her kitchen, and wondered what to do. Finally Mrs. Hallenbeck said in a querulous voice, quite unlike her usual crisp tones, "You remember my dear Leslie? Of course, he would have been Mr. Hallenbeck to you. Well, I don't recall you specifically. There were so many employees. They all simply adored Leslie. As I did."
Quill and John exchanged a cautious look. "I only met Mr. Hallenbeck once a year, at the company Christmas party," John said. "I saw you there too, of course, but we never spoke before you came here."
"I should have remembered you if I had. I am frequently complimented on the accuracy of my memory."
The spell, or whatever it was, seemed to have passed. Quill wondered at the harshness of memory; a husband's suicide would be an intolerable burden to bear, the guilt horrific. Had John's quiet reference to her dead husband touched off memories too painful to bear?
The morning sun poked an exploratory finger through the southeast window. Its light made Quill aware of just how old eighty-three was. Blood, muscle, and bone all shrink, she thought, as though a tide has ebbed. Does the spirit shrink, too, and the healthy young become the senile old? Or does it wear away, as the physical does, to leave bedrock character behind? She thought of her own mother, and her mother's loving, changeless heart trapped in a body diminished, but not conquered, by age. She couldn't begin to make sense of it, and wouldn't bother.
"You have not yet given me a reason as to why the police haven't been called. What are you going to do about him?" Mrs. Hallenbeck jerked her chin at John. Her eyes were suddenly clear and shrewd. "He's wanted for murder, I understand."
"It's a mistake," said Quill. "And John's going to clear that up. He'll be back managing the Inn again. In the meantime I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything about seeing him here. We're keeping it a bit quiet until John gets a chance to talk to the sheriff himself."
"So you're going to solve the murders. Huh! It's obvious to me that he did it. Killed that Mr. Gilmeister and Mavis, too." Her eyes widened in alarm. "You're not going to kill me are you?"
"But he didn't, Mrs. Hallenbeck. He's innocent. And why in the world would anyone want to kill you?" The doubt was back; perhaps she was senile.
"I know things, of course. I know all about Mavis, and what she was like." Her hands shook. Her lips tightened in disgust. "Dreadful girl. I should have fired her years ago. I am far too tender-hearted. It's very easy to take advantage of me." She looked at Quill out of the comer of her eye. "As an example, I believe it was Mavis who staged that little - ah - incident with the balcony for the insurance money. I'm afraid she's done it before. If that is so, I have a great deal to make up for. You will, of course, present the bill for repairs to me. Sometimes I believe that all the trouble that has come since then is a result of Mavis' foolishness. If I had kept better control of her, if I had refused to allow her to go out with those appalling people, the rest of this would never have happened." She pursed her lips, and said anxiously, "You don't think people will blame me, do you? I confess to feeling a small portion of responsibility for what happened to her, and to Mr. Gilmeister. I believe the trap on the ducking stool was set for her. I should have managed her better. But I've never had a head for people like Leslie had."
Quill, reeling from the news that Mavis had made a career of conning hotels, couldn't respond for a moment.
"I don't think that's true, Mrs. Hallenbeck," said John. "I didn't know you well, and you know what employee gossip is like, but everyone agreed that you were probably better at managing the business than your husband. And successful business is all about how well you manage people. Mr. Hallenbeck always used to say that at the Christmas parties. My boss, Carl Atkinson? You may remember him. He had the greatest respect for your abilities. Someone with your kind of intelligence doesn't suddenly lose it. You can't blame yourself for Mavis' behavior."
Mrs. Hallenbeck smiled primly. Moving quietly, as though not to startle a small animal, John got up from the couch. "Can I get you another cup of coffee?"
"Just a little, perhaps. Quite weak. I am very sensitive to caffeine." Quill heard John making a fresh pot. She waited. She wasn't entirely sure what he was up to, with these flagrant compliments, but at least Mrs. Hallenbeck hadn't reached for the phone to call the cops yet. "I think," said John, coming back into the room, "that Mrs. Hallenbeck could be very helpful in the investigation to clear my name."