Claudia Bishop - Murder Well-Done
The Cast of Characters
The Inn at Hemlock Falls
Sarah Quilliam-owner-manager
Margaret Quilliam-her sister, gourmet chef
John Raintree-their business manager and partner
Doreen Muxworthy-head housekeeper
Dina Muir-receptionist
Kathleen Kiddermeister-head waitress
Mike-the groundskeeper
Bjarne-a Finnish sous-chef
Claire McIntosh-the bride, a guest
Elaine McIntosh-Claire's mother, a guest
Vittorio Mclntosh-Claire's father, a guest
Alphonse Santini-the bridegroom, former senator
Tutti McIntosh-Vittorio's mother, a guest
Evan Blight-world-famous author, a guest
Nora Cahill-TV anchor, a guest
-various bridesmaids, groomsmen, and aides to Senator Santini
Members of S.O.A.P.
Elmer Henry-mayor of Hemlock Falls
Dookie Shuttleworth-minister, Church of the Word of God
Harland Peterson-a farmer
-among others
Members of H.O.W.
Adela Henry-the mayor's wife
Marge Schmidt-owner, the Hemlock Hometown Diner
Betty Hall-Marge's partner
Esther West-owner, West's Best Dress Shoppe
Miriam Doncaster-a librarian
The Village Officials, and others
Frank Dorset-the sheriff
Davy Kiddermeister-Kathleen's brother, a deputy
Dwight Riorden-the bailiff
Bernie Bristol-the town justice
Myles McHale-a citizen
Howie Murchison-a lawyer
-1-
"You've sure got one heck of a life-style," Nora Cahill said enviously. "Your Inn is gorgeous, your sister's food is terrific, and your business manager is the best-looking guy I've seen since I nailed an exclusive interview with Kevin Costner after his divorce. I've heard that little boutique restaurant you've invested in got a franchise offer. Even the show of your paintings last month got great reviews." Resentment crept into her voice, souring its carefully cultivated modulations. Pensively, she shoved her sour cream crepe with her fork. "No offense, but if you tell me you've got your love life socked, too, I'm going to hit you with a stick. I haven't had a date for eight months."
Sarah Quilliam set her cup into her saucer in awkward silence. Nora had checked into the Inn the night before and asked if she could speak to the owner. Quill, with a jammed schedule, had suggested an early breakfast. She was curious about Nora, one of Syracuse's most popular television anchors. They'd met at seven in the Tavern Lounge of the twenty-seven-room Inn Quill owned with her sister Meg and their partner, John Raintree. Nora was smaller-boned than she appeared on television, and her hair was darker. She was tall for a woman, about Quill's height. She had the well-buffed perfection characteristic of the very wealthy or the fairly famous: short, precision-cut hair; skin like the outside of a choice fruit; clothes that were so expensively made they never wrinkled. She was probably in her early thirties - about Quill's own age - and the six o'clock anchor for a Syracuse network television affiliate.
Quill, not sure how to respond to Nora's slightly rancorous catalog, said vaguely that she hoped she liked the Inn.
"Perfect," said Nora. Then, "I hope nothing happens to spoil it for you. You did all the decorating in here yourself, too?"
The Lounge was a pleasant room, although during those times when Quill's work as a painter wasn't going well, she tended to avoid it. At her sister's insistence, the deep teal walls were hung with Quill's own acrylics from her award-winning Flower series. Sometimes, Quill would look at her work with deep - if slightly guilty - pleasure. More often she despaired of ever achieving that height of line and intense color again. This morning, if the staff hadn't been setting up a fund-raiser brunch for the Inn's most prominent guest, Senator Alphonse Santini (R., New York), she would have taken Nora Cahill to the dining room; her painting hadn't been going well at all. Not for the last few weeks. Not since the trouble with Myles. Which was going to be resolved once and for all at lunch in Syracuse today.
"Was the breakfast okay?" asked Quill. She looked dubiously at Nora's half-eaten crepe Quilliam. It was a specialty of Meg's, cheese souffl‚ with sour cream and caviar wrapped in a thin Cointreau-flavored pancake.
"Fine," Nora said absently. "Too fine. I've got a lot to accomplish while I'm here. I don't know now if I want to do it. The whole place is so seductive I just want to sit and stuff myself."
A fire snapped warmly in the stone fireplace. The air was filled with the fresh scent of the pine wreaths over the mantle. The long mahogany bar gleamed with lemon-scented polish, and Nate the bartender whistled under his breath as he restocked the shelves. To Nora, here for a week's stay while she covered the Santini wedding, it must have seemed like a refuge. To Quill, who was facing the emotional equivalent of a train wreck - in the middle of the busiest holiday season the Inn had ever had - it felt like jail. She resisted the impulse to run shouting into the snow, and asked again how she could help make Nora's stay at the Inn more comfortable.
"I don't see how you could make it more comfortable." Nora tucked one long leg under the other.
Quill watched Nora's show on the rare occasion when she had free time in the early evenings. Nora had brains and style underneath the glamour. The stories the station permitted her to cover on her own were pungent and well-balanced. "I liked that story you did on teen mothers," Quill offered. "Every time the station lets you do investigative reporting, the show is wonderful. Are you working on anything in particular now?"
Instead of answering Quill's question, Nora admired her teacup. "Even the china's terrific. I've never seen anything like it. It's like that Wedgwood pattern Kutani Crane, only the birds are more vibrant."
"It's a rose-breasted grosbeak," said Quill. "The design was created right here in Hemlock Falls by some friends of ours. They made the Inn a present of a service for twenty-four. I use it a lot."
"Heaven," said Nora, waving a well-groomed hand. "This place is absolute heaven. From the plates to the location. And so peaceful. All this snow and the gorge and the waterfall - it's like something out of a fantasy."
"There are drawbacks," Quill said.
Nora's eyes, which were black and uncomfortably sharp, flicked over her, but she said merely, "Oh, right. Your sister's a three-star chef, the rooms are stuffed with some of the most gorgeous antiques I've seen outside of a museum, and in case you get bored, you can chat up the famous people who stay here." The corners of her mouth turned up. "Of course, I've heard about the ones who come to stay and leave in body bags. You've had more than your fair share of murders in your swell little village, haven't you?"
Quill rubbed her nose. "I suppose that's true."
"Well, it all sounds like fun. Frankly, a nice little domestic murder'd be a welcome change from the stuff I've got to deal with. Ten-car pileups on Interstate 81, teenage hookers, kids who've been beaten to death."