Jane heard a siren and went back to open the front door. A moment later, an ambulance pulled up and medical attendants leaped out and ran in with their equipment. A few seconds behind them was a patrol car. A good ol' boy of a sheriff hoisted himself out of the driver's side, and a rabbity deputy hopped out the other door. The sheriff ignored Jane as he rolled past. "Excuse me, miss," the deputy said.
"Well, are you the fella who called this in?" the sheriff boomed.
"Mel VanDyne. Yes, I placed the call."
"You a relative?"
"No, I've never seen this woman before. But my friend had some papers to return to her. When we got here, the door was open and we found the body."
"Well, now, ain't that convenient."
Uh-oh, Jane thought.
Mel came into the front hallway. He didn't look pleasant.
"Jane," he said with deadly formality, "I think maybe you better go down to the lodge. I'll join you in a few minutes."
"Mel! Why didn't you tell him you're a detective?" she whispered.
"Because I'm not. Not here and now. I'm on vacation. Go on. I'll be with you shortly."
"Okay. But I'm going to order drinks and appetizers the minute I sit down, so you better hurry."
Chapter 8
They had dinner reservations in the more formal restaurant. It was an elegant, dimly lighted, artfully arranged room that overlooked the small lake. From her table next to the windows, Jane could watch the skaters below. The table itself was set with superb pink linens, the best-quality restaurant silverware, and beautiful china with a muted pink-and-gray Oriental floral pattern. Although it seemed late to Jane, her internal clock having been completely undone by her earlier nap, the restaurant was just starting to fill up for the evening.
Jane finished her glass of wine and half the appetizers (bite-sized egg rolls with a spicy crab filling). After a while she finished the rest of the appetizers and drank Mel's wine. Then she ordered coffee and nibbled the Italian parsley that had decorated the appetizer plate. Starving, bored senseless, and bursting with curiosity, she couldn't even tell Shelley what had happened, because this was the night Shelley was being hostess to the investors at a cocktail party and dinner in her and Paul's condo.
She studied the other diners for a long while, but decided she was drawing as much attention as she was giving. One middle-aged man with what he no doubt imagined was an attractive two-day beard stubble and a lot of gold chains winked at her. My God! He thinks I'm a hooker! she thought with horror.
She told the waiter she'd be back and ran to the little magazine-and-book shop next to the front desk, then checked on Katie and Denise, who had finally emerged from the swimming pool and, fully dressed, were eating burgers at a table on the pool apron. Back with something to read, she drank another cup of coffee, then visited the rest room for the second time. Just as she was returning to her table, the waiter approached to tell her there was a phone message that said she was to order two dinners and her companion would be with her in a moment.
After studying the menu one last time — she nearly had it memorized — she ordered two of the more interesting entrees on it: elk stew with cattail pollen dumplings for herself, and a buffalo steak with horseradish/rosemary sauce and blue cornmeal dressing for Mel.
Mel managed to arrive before the meal did.
"What took you so long?" Jane asked.
"The local sheriff is an ass!" he said, sitting down heavily. Jane could hear his stomach rumble. "He was all for just carting off the body and letting your pal Tenny Garner send in a maid to clean up the room."
"And you tried to stop him?"
"Of course I did. That's not the way to treat a sudden death."
"I thought you were the one who said there was nothing suspicious about it."
Mel took a deep breath. "I don't know whether I should tell you this or not—"
"You might as well," she said sweetly. "After all, we're both on vacation. It has nothing to do with us."
He cocked an eyebrow at her and thought for a long moment before finally saying, "Did you notice the 'distribution' of all those papers?"
"Yes; they were everywhere."
"No, they weren't."
"Well, I guess there weren't any in the bathroom or the kitchen."
"That's not what I mean. I'm talking about the living room."
Jane closed her eyes, picturing the room where they had found Doris. Papers all over. On the coffee table, the sofa, the floor…
She opened her eyes very wide. "Oh! She wasn't lying on any of them, was she?"
"Bingo."
Their salads arrived. Trendy, rather bitter lettuce with little groupings of berries and slivers of something crunchy like water chestnuts, only pink. Normally Jane would have questioned the waiter about the ingredients, but not tonight. "So you assumed the papers had been flung around after she collapsed."
"It seemed likely. First I suggested that the sheriff have the remains of the coffee in her cup tested, but he said there was no need for that. She was an old lady and just had a heart attack and he, the sheriff, had a houseful of company at home — his in-laws, who were probably drinking all his best beer while he was wasting time, the in-laws being the greedy sort who would do that kind of thing to an absent host. About that time Ms. Garner got there, heard the last of the conversation, went and puttered around the kitchen and said there was another coffee cup missing."
"Ah — so maybe she was having coffee with somebody who took the other cup away. Fingerprints, maybe?"
Mel shrugged. "You never know. So the sheriff— his name is Plunkbucket, by the way—"
"It isn't!"
"No, but it's something like that. He says every time he's ever been up here, people are roaming around the grounds with coffee cups and glasses and things, and Ms. Garner admits that's true and the missing one might just turn up in the spring melt. Apparently all sorts of stuff show up when the snow disappears every spring."
"Didn't you tell him you're a detective?"
"Oh, I did that. And it made the situation about ten times as bad. He resented me enough before that; then, when he found out I was not only a detective, but from Chicago as well, he really got nasty. City slickers trying to tell him how to do his job, et cetera."
"But did he agree to test the coffee left in the cup?"
"Well, yes and no. He's testing it, but only because of my threat to report him to anybody I could find to listen if he didn't."
"You feel that strongly that her death was suspicious?"
"No, I don't. But I was pissed off by then. Some of her genealogy chums had turned up by that time, and they were backing him up like mad that it was just an unfortunate but inevitable result of her bad heart and a disastrous afternoon. They told him all about the debate and how she'd been laughed out of the room. What the hell is this stuff I'm eating?"
"I dunno. Fruit of some kind. Don't you like it?"
"It's okay. Just a funny texture. I'm hungry enough I'd probably eat broccoli if somebody put it in front of me."
"How did the sheriff explain the papers thrown all over?"
"Just a fit of pique. He actually used those words, I swear. After hearing of the debate that the genealogy people kept yammering about, he figures she came back, fixed herself a cup of coffee, then got herself all worked up to a temper tantrum and threw her work around. This activity leading, naturally, to a heart attack."