"Tutti!" Elaine wailed.
"Where's Claire?" Tutti demanded briskly.
"Claire?" asked Quill. "Urn. Yes. Claire."
"The bride," John said helpfully.
"Oh! Of course! Come to think of it, I haven't seen her today. Have you, Dina?"
"Nope."
Mrs. McIntosh gestured, her bracelets clanking. "I must see her. As soon as she arrives. There is danger here, I tell you. Three knocks at the door, and then blood, blo - "
"Mrs. McIntosh!" Quill said firmly.
"Claire took the Caddy to pick up her father at the train station, Tutti," said Elaine. "They should have been here by now, but with the snow coming on so fast, they must have been delayed."
"I told Vic to take the train," said Mrs. McIntosh. "It's more comfortable. It's safe. And a lot cheaper." She adjusted the large diamond brooch on her scarf with a virtuous air. "I just hope he doesn't get into an accident coming from Ithaca. Norton almost ditched my limo twice on the way up from Boston."
"They'll be fine. Vic's a wonderful driver." Elaine looked a question at Quill. "Now, Tutti, why don't I take you up to your room?"
"What a good idea! We've put you in the Proven‡al suite, Mrs. McIntosh. I'm sure you'll be very comfortable up there. And would you like a tea? We've got fresh scones and Devonshire cream. And our hot chocolate is very good."
The little dog in her arms barked.
"And I'm sure we can find a biscuit for, um..."
"Tatiana," Mrs. McIntosh supplied.
"Of course, um... good doggie," Quill said inadequately.
"We don't hold with dog pee here," Doreen said in an ominous way. "I don't do dog pee. Windows. Terlits. Refrigerators. I do all that. I don't do dog pee."
"Of course you don't!" Mrs. McIntosh said sunnily. "Now, if this very good-looking young man could escort me upstairs, I think I could use a little rest. It's Mr. Raintree, isn't it?"
John inclined his head gravely.
"Are you married, Mr. Raintree?"
"No, Mrs. McIntosh. Not yet."
"Mrs. McIntosh took his arm and twinkled at him. "Call em Tutti! Everyone does. And I'd adore it if you could meet my granddaughter. She's single, too."
Quill watched them proceed up the winding stairs to the upper floors. Tatiana, flopped over Tutti's furry arm, regarded Doreen unblinkingly with her shoe button eyes.
"I didn't know you had two daughters, Mrs. McIntosh," said Dina.
Elaine took a deep breath. "I don't. She doesn't either. Have another granddaughter, I mean. Oh, Quill, what am I going to do? You see what I mean?"
"Well, I think your mother-in-law is cool," Dina said in a reverent tone. "I mean, is she really, like, psychic and all? Did you see how she knew John's name before anybody, like, introduced him?"
Quill tapped the nameplate under the "Reception" sign, which read, Your Hosts: Sarah Quilliam/Margaret Quilliam/John Raintree.
"Honest, Quill, she walked right in here and started prophesying right away. She didn't have a chance to read a thing! Besides, John could have been anybody. Like, another guest or something."
"I don't think so," Quill said repressively. "Elaine, why don't we go back to my office and rework the plans for the reception? We're essentially doubling the number 0 of guests, is that right? It's going to put a bit of strain s: on the kit - "
The knocker on the Inn's oak door sounded once, twice, and a third time, echoing impressively in the It foyer. Dina screamed. Doreen raised her mop like a club, grasping the handle firmly in both hands.
"My God," said Elaine. "Oh, my God." She backed against the newel post to the stairway, quivering.
The knocks on the door were succeeded by a series of thumps and bangs. Quill marched across the foyer and flung the door wide. A gust of cold air blew snow across the Oriental rug. An extremely cross male voice ordered Quill to get the goddamned luggage.
"Vic!" cried Elaine. "You made it! I was so worried!"
"Roads were a goddamned pain," he snarled. "Claire? Will you get your ass in here, for Chrissakes?"
"Quill, this is my husband, Vittorio," Elaine fluttered.
Vic grunted. This was the first she'd seen of Vittorio McIntosh. And there was blood all over his hands.
"I hadn't even heard of him before, other than the name on his gold card," Quill said to Meg and John in the kitchen a few hours later.
"Well, I have," said John. "The fortune is privately held, but a conservative estimate would be in the area of fifty million. And Nora Cahill's information was sound. There have been rumors about his links to organized crime for years."
"He was bleeding?" asked Meg.
"Of course he was bleeding!" Quill, exasperated, bit into a leftover pate puff. It was soggy. "That's why I had to give Dina an aspirin. He'd barked his knuckles on the door knocker trying to get in out of the snow. He said it was locked."
"The door's never locked until lights-out," said Meg. "If you ask me, Mrs. McIntosh - I mean, Tutti - locked it when she came in," Quill said gloomily. "That old lady's a corker. And she sure doesn't like our Alphonse. Did John tell you what she did to him at dinner?"
"No!"
"Hot coffee," said John.
"All over his trousers," said Quill.
Meg grinned. She was sharpening her kitchen knives. She tested the blade of her favorite paring knife with her thumb, then asked, "What's Vittorio like?"
"Well, I'll tell you," Quill said crossly. "He could be Alphonse Santini's older uglier brother."
"That bad, huh? Dang." She counted through the knives laid out on the counter. "I'm one short." "Check the dishwasher," John suggested.
"They know better than to put my good knives in the dishwasher."
"He called me dolly twice," Quill said loudly, feeling ignored. "Why is it, Meg, that women are just nicer than men?"
"Nicer? You think Nora Cahill's nicer? I mean, here Santini's her sworn enemy and she ends up in cahoots with him just like that. All for a good story."
"It's a lousy story," Quill said firmly. "Back to my point. Women are nicer than men. If you put one hundred women in a room with one hundred men, eighty , percent of the women would be nice versus... versus..." - she waved her hands in the air - "twenty percent of the men. Would be nice."
Meg and John exchanged looks. "So!" Meg said brightly. "The Santinis and the McIntoshes will all be gone and it'll all be over in three days. Unless it keeps on snowing. You mind if I switch the television on? I want to get the weather report."
"No you don't," Quill said indignantly. "You just want to see if Nora Cahill's plastered my face and my boots and my ugly coat allover the eleven o'clock news."
"I do not!" Meg made a deprecatory face. "Well, maybe a little. But I also want to be sure that the weather's not going to interfere with the food order getting here from New York in time. I grabbed Elaine after dinner and we finally reworked the buffet menu."