"What is Mildred going to teach these guys? How to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"
Riker ignored the remark. "Most men who signed up want to master one or two specialties, like barbecued spare ribs or Italian spaghetti. If I do say so myself, I make a memorable stuffed cabbage, but nothing else."
"How come I've known you since kindergarten and never tasted your memorable stuffed cabbage?"
Shrugging off the question, Riker went on. "Some of the requests made by the class are meatloaf, Oriental stir-fry, pan-fried trout, Swiss steak, and so on."
"Okay, Arch. If I do this for you," Qwilleran said, "you owe me one."
"Any time you say, friend."
On the way out of the building, Qwilleran picked up a paper from a bundle that had just come from the printing plant. The headline read: SEARCH TWO COUNTIES FOR BOMB MURDERER. He planned to read it with his lunch at Lois's.
Lois herself was waiting on tables. "Is that today's paper?" she asked. "Is Lenny's picture in it?"
Qwilleran scanned the front page, the carry-over on three, and the photo spread on the back page. "Doesn't look like it," he said, "but Lenny had his picture in the paper when he won the silver, and I imagine he looks better in a helmet than a bandage. How's he doing?"
"Not good. He's down in the dumps. Him and Anna Marie were gonna get married, you know... What'll it be for you today, besides three cups of coffee?"
He ordered a Reuben sandwich and reserved a piece of apple pie, one of Lois's specialties that sold out fast. While waiting for the sandwich, he perused the paper. There were photos of the shattered interior of room 203; the fallen chandelier lying on the reservation desk; the hotel exterior, windowless and draped with debris. There was also a photo of Anna Marie copied from her driver's license, found in her handbag in the employees' locker room.
Of unusual interest was the computer-composite of the suspect's probable likeness, this being the first time such a technical advance had appeared in the local paper. It would also be running in the Lockmaster Ledger, and the good folk of two counties would carry it around and peer suspiciously into every passing face.
The lead story was set in large type, giving it importance and concealing the embarrassing truth that there was little to report that was not already generally known:
Law enforcement agencies are combing two counties in their search for the suspect who allegedly planted a bomb in the New Pickax Hotel, killing one employee, injuring two others, and causing extensive property damage. The explosion occurred Friday at 4:20 P.M.
No guests were on the premises at that time.
Pronounced dead at the scene was Anna Marie Toms, 20, of
Chipmunk, a part-time housekeeping aide at the hotel and nursing student at Moose County Community College.
Desk clerk Leonard Inchpot, 23, of Kennebeck sustained a head injury when a chandelier dropped from a ceiling above the registration desk. Manager
Isabelle Croy of Lockmaster was thrown to the floor in her second-floor office. Both were treated at the
Pickax Hospital and released.
"Several members of the staff were shaken up," said Croy. "Because it was late Friday afternoon, all the commercial travelers had checked out, and the dinner hour hadn't started yet. We feel terribly upset about Anna
Marie. She was new and trying so hard to do a good job."
Major damage occurred at the front of the building on the second floor, with the bomb allegedly planted in room 203.
A police spokesperson said that a white, middle aged, clean-shaven man entered the hotel at approximately four o'clock to deliver what he said was a birthday gift and also a bouquet of flowers for the occupant of 203. Shortly after, Toms was seen entering the room with a vacuum cleaner "because the flowers had made a mess on the rug," Croy said. The explosion occurred within minutes.
PPD chief Andrew Brodie said, "A couple of thousand bombings are reported in the U.S. every year. Dynamite and blasting caps and other components of homemade bombs are easy to buy, and too many nuts out there have the know-how. You can even make a bomb with fertilizer."
Room 203 had been occupied for the last two weeks by a woman registered as Ona
Dolman of Columbus, OH. She has not been seen since the bombing. A spokesperson at the airport reported that a woman using that name returned a rental car at 5:20 P.M. Friday and boarded the shuttle flight to Minneapolis.
The Moose County Something has not been able to locate anyone of that name in Columbus, OH.
Local police are being assisted in the investigation by detectives, bomb experts, and forensic technicians of the SBI, as well as the sheriff departments of Moose and
Lockmaster counties.
The photo of room 203 was a scene of incredible destruction: walls gouged, doors ripped off, ceiling panels hanging down, and furnishings shredded and flung about the room like confetti. Qwilleran read the lead story twice; there was no mention that the desk clerk allowed the stranger to take the gift upstairs himself. Then Qwilleran wondered, If the "clean-shaven" stranger had worn a shaggy beard and long hair, and if he had been carrying a six-pack of beer instead of flowers, would he have been allowed to go up to 203? He also wondered about the manager's remark that commercial travelers checked out Friday afternoon. Did that fact have anything to do with the timing of the explosion? If the Lockmaster management firm had indeed plotted the incident, as some believed, did the in-house manager (from Lockmaster) suggest the best time to pull it off?
There was more on the front page. A bulletin stated: "Do not open gifts or other unexpected packages delivered to your home or place of business-if the sender is unknown. Play it safe! Contact the police!"
A human interest anecdote with an ironic twist was included as a sidebar:
After the "birthday gift" had been delivered to room 203, the desk clerk notified the kitchen that it was Dolman's birthday, and the chef, Karl Oskar, prepared to bake her a birthday cake. He was mixing the batter when the bomb exploded, and both he and the batter ended up on the floor.
Qwilleran finished his lunch and went to Amanda's Design Studio to speak with Fran Brodie. The designer was cloistered in a consultation booth with an indecisive client and a hundred samples of blue fabric. Fran saw him and made a grimace of desperation, but he signaled no-hurry and ambled about the shop. He liked to buy small decorative objects once in a while, partly to please the daughter of the police chief.
When Fran finally appeared at his elbow, he was examining a pair of carved wooden masks painted in garish colors. "That woman!" she muttered. "She's a sweet little lady, but she can never make up her mind. She'll come back tomorrow with her mother-in-law and again on Saturday with her husband, who couldn't care less. He'll point to a sample at random and say it's the best, and she'll place the order.... What do you think of my Sri Lanka masks?"
"Is that what they are? I'd hate to meet one of them in a dark alley," They were mythical demons with wicked fangs, bulging eyes, rapacious beaks, and bristling headdresses.
"By the way," Fran said, "you made a big hit with the new banker's wife. She came in this morning, and all she could talk about was you and your barn. She thinks you're charming. She loves your voice. She loves your moustache. Don't let Polly hear about Danielle; she'll have a relapse. But thanks for giving me credit for the barn, Qwill. She'll be a good customer. She hates blue."
"Did you sign her up for the theatre club? I hear she's had stage experience."
"Well... yes. She was a night-club entertainer in Baltimore. Her stage name was Danielle Devoe... Is that today's paper you're carrying?"
"Take it. I've read it. There's nothing new," he said. "You probably know more than the newspaper."
"I know they've run a check on Ona Dolman. Her driver's license is valid, but there's no such address as the one she gave the hotel. The suspect was described as wearing a blue nylon jacket and a black baseball cap with a 'fancy' letter D on the front. He got into a blue pickup behind the hotel."