2 Murder in the Winter Read online

  Manfred opened the door to my room, and I discovered that Longworth did not embellish too much. Considering it was one room and not a suite, it was quite large. There was a desk, two upholstered chairs, one of which might’ve been a recliner, a king-size bed, a couch, a small refrigerator, and a microwave. Those last two would come in handy if I decided to sneak any food back to my room. Manfred carried my bag inside, pointed out each of the room’s amenities, and asked if I needed further assistance. I declined, and he left to show Lou to his room.

  3

  A knock at the door shook me from my nap. Evidently I had slumbered too long to satisfy a sergeant who wanted to wrap up the case as soon as possible. Not taking time to tuck in my shirt or comb my hair, I stumbled to the door and opened it. I should have grabbed my gun on the way.

  “Hello, Cyrus. I like what you’ve done with your hair. I had planned to run my fingers through it, anyway.”

  I wondered how my next-door neighbor knew where the good sergeant and I had bedded down for the weekend, and then I remembered she had snatched the murderer’s note from my hands. But how had she found out which room was mine? Could it be that the proprietor had told her more than he was willing to tell me? Whatever the case, there was no way this vixen would run her claws through my hair.

  “Well, Miss Humphert, what brings you here, and how did you know what room I was in?”

  “When I returned from walking Twinkle Toes this morning I realized the subtle hint you offered when you passed the note to me. I knew it was your way of calling me to this weekend love nest.”

  “The love nest is out among the trees. Why don’t you go outside, leap from the cliff, grab on to a tree limb, and wait for me? Oh, and by the way, you didn’t tell me how you knew which room was mine.”

  “That cute sergeant downstairs let me know.”

  I no longer felt guilty about waiting inside while Lou solved an outdoor murder.

  “Well, why don’t you go downstairs and bother the sergeant, while I finish getting dressed. He loves getting his hair messed up. By the way, where’s Muffy? You didn’t leave her at home by herself, did you?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Cyrus. Twinkle Toes loves her Cyrus, too. She can’t wait to nibble at your toes.”

  I closed the door as my next-door neighbor turned away. I wondered how far a man of my size with steel-toed shoes could kick a rat. I began to smile at the possibilities. I continued to smile when I realized that if the murder had not yet taken place, my neighbor was still eligible to be the victim. I stopped smiling when I felt God reprimand me for my thoughts.

  +++

  I went to the phone and called the front desk. I asked whoever answered to page the sergeant, who should be nearby getting his hair messed up. A couple of minutes later, someone knocked on the door. I opened it a crack, but enough of a crack that I could see a smiling face. I decided to get even with that smiling face later, and invited him inside. Change of plans. We would plan our strategy from within the confines of my room.

  Lou informed me that he had seen no guests except for my next-door neighbor. After getting up from his nap, which was much shorter than mine, he had ventured down a few hallways, but saw no one. When he mentioned this to me, I wondered if we were lured to the inn by Longworth, who used the ploy he did to bring customers to his establishment. Or could it be that he planned to murder the two of us, unbeknownst to him that wither I goest my neighbor is sure to follow? I quickly dismissed that theory. Surely our work would be more difficult than that. And so it was.

  I wanted to check out the inn. Actually, I wanted to check out of the inn, but that was not possible with a murderer lurking nearby. On one occasion, I slid the latch from my door and peeked out to see if you-know-who was around. I suffered a kiss on the cheek while claws messed up my hair. I hit my eye on the door as I tried to get away from her clutches. If someone were to look out again, it would be the good sergeant. I looked around the room for other means of escape. There were none. We would remain in my room until I heard screams, or until the smell of food cooking wafted in under the door.

  After too much time in isolation, we weren’t able to solve a yet uncommitted murder, so my thoughts shifted to planning my exit. I’d read about Noah. I knew about the raven and the dove. After a reasonable amount of time elapsed, I would send the good sergeant out. If he didn’t return within a few seconds, I would know that either the neighbor had captured him or he had smelled food.

  +++

  I expected things to get worse when we left the room, but not in the way they did. We strolled down the steps, slinked over to the hors d’oeuvres, and crinkled our noses. What is this stuff? I whispered to Lou to see if he had a clue. He had no idea, either. The other guests had come out of hiding. At least two men had. I whispered again to Lou and we stepped back and waited for someone else to go first. One did, and he seemed to enjoy it. Then an elderly woman hobbled over, ate some of the pasty stuff, and licked her lips. I motioned to the sergeant to go first. He whispered, “Lieutenants first.” I whispered back, “Not after you sent that woman to my room.” He smiled and sidled up to the table to choose his poison. He took a knife and spread a small portion of the pasty stuff on a cracker, took a bite, and smiled. Knowing Lou could be a good actor at times, I followed, begrudgingly. Lou looked at me and did his best not to laugh. I was about to whisper and ask him, “What is this stuff?” when Mrs. Longworth walked up and asked us how we liked the pâté de foie gras. I tried to smile, and took another bite. It tasted like dog food that had been run through a blender. On second thought, it tasted like liver, and I can’t stand liver. I hoped the hors d’oeuvres were not a precursor of what dinner would be like. I turned away from the paste and walked over to the sitting room. On the way I passed Mrs. Longworth and said something about not wanting to spoil my appetite for dinner. When she was out of sight, I sneaked my Hershey Almond bar from my pocket and bit off two almonds and all the chocolate that surrounded them. I wouldn’t go near that foie gras again, unless it would be to recommend it to my neighbor, who was descending the stairs as I looked up. She was dressed for dinner. Too bad she had not chosen a hat with a veil to accompany her outfit.

  +++

  At dinner, Lou and I got to meet everyone. Well, we got their names and faces, but didn’t waste much time talking. Instead, I listened, plus checked out the eyes to see if anyone recognized us. No one seemed to. Maybe they were all good actors. And there wasn’t a hunchback among them. After dinner, I would ask the good sergeant to corner my next-door neighbor and see if she recognized any of our dinner companions as the hunchback who’d left me the note. I doubted if she could. Whoever it was had bundled up, and all of the guests seemed about the same height and weight. Even the woman was near the same size as the men, but then my neighbor would never recognize another woman.

  I was right about one thing. There weren’t a lot of guests, and from what I could discern, not only were the good sergeant and I the first to arrive on Friday, but, other than my neighbor, we were the only ones to arrive on Friday. Three other guests were expected, but never arrived. According to Longworth, one phoned to say he would be late, another to say that the storm delayed him until the next morning. The third had not called. Maybe one of them was our murderer, hiding inside a nearby turret until the time came for him to accomplish his dastardly deed.

  The dining room consisted of six, large, mahogany tables, each covered with white tablecloths, and each capable of seating sixteen people. Because of our small number, everyone was seated at the same table. Too bad my next-door neighbor hadn’t ordered room service. I smiled at the others seated around the table. Well, everyone except my neighbor. I’d heard about the food at this place, but didn’t see how it could compare with the Blue Moon. At least the Blue Moon doesn’t serve that pâté de foie gras stuff. Good thing, too. If they did, Lou and I would be looking for a new place to chow down. Give me meat loaf, country fried steak, and all the trimmings.

  I’d learne
d that whenever possible, the Longworths ate with their guests. That night it was possible. I scanned the table, trying to get a lead on what might happen. Mr. Longworth sat at the head of the table, his wife at the foot. Because of the three more-than-fashionably-late guests, there were only six other guests at the inn that night. On Longworth’s right sat a man who introduced himself as Myles Mycroft. He looked nearly forty and wore his hair slicked straight back. Mycroft looked like someone who had read all the books on etiquette. I’d watch him if I lost my place and didn’t know the proper way to attack a certain dish. I might have to lean forward to do so, because Lou sat next to him. The good sergeant’s body protruded farther forward than did Mycroft’s. Maybe Mycroft spent more time reading about eating than he did eating. I sat next to my partner, in the last seat on Longworth’s right, which means I sat next to Mrs. Longworth. Since the table accommodated sixteen and there were only eight of us, we had room to spread out, although I deduced that spreading out was not the custom at a place like Overlook Inn. There were no “No Grazing” signs, but I could sense that no one other than a policeman would be caught putting his or her elbows on the table. If I could’ve identified my adversary, I would’ve suggested a change of venue for the murder, with the Blue Moon Diner as my first choice.

  Arthur Plankton sat opposite Mycroft. Plankton was a weasel of a man who looked best suited for absconding with the bank’s funds. He looked like his best days were behind him, and I guessed his age to be somewhere around sixty-five.

  While Plankton looked old, the woman seated to his left looked even older. She had so many age spots and wrinkles it would have been hard to add them and divide by two to get her age. Miss Isabel Dukenfield wore a hat with a veil. I remembered that my grandmother had one that looked quite similar. Miss Dukenfield’s hat must have survived the war. I think she might have looked better if she’d traded the hat for a bag. The veil didn’t cover nearly enough. Besides, she pulled it up when the food came.

  I looked up at the chandelier that loomed almost directly above my head. I hated to eat under so much glass. I was afraid it would fall on me, but it was so large that it hovered over two or three tables, and another chandelier picked up where that one left off. My fear of the chandelier was interrupted when someone opened the front door. In walked a young man, who looked at us and apologized for being late. The openness of the inn, with no walls separating the sitting room from the dining room, made it possible to see anyone who came or went, even though we were quite a distance from the front door. I soon found out that the man’s name was Tony McArthur, and it seemed that everyone at the table, with the exception of my partner and the hussy who lives next door to me, seemed to recognize the man. I whispered to Lou to see if maybe he recognized the newcomer, but he didn’t. I thought maybe he was some kind of star and our work and lack of hero worship prevented us from recognizing him. The tall young man grabbed a chair and scooted it between Lou and Mycroft, thus making it even harder for me to follow Mycroft’s lead.

  I was starved. I couldn’t wait for the food to be served. Possibly sensing this, Mrs. Longworth rang the bell. I speculated that someone would soon arrive with food, or we would come face to face with Pavlov’s dog. It was time to eat. What conversation there was died down when our guest list increased by one.

  The meal started with shrimp, but it wasn’t fried. Evidently someone here wasn’t from the south. And the ketchup in a bowl beside the shrimp tasted funny. And the soup he brought next was cold. Good help must be hard to get so far out in the country. I didn’t see any improvement in subsequent dishes, but Mrs. Longworth smiled through the whole process. I think she was embarrassed. Things didn’t get any better until the dessert arrived, but that’s also when things got worse.

  Before I could sample Baked Alaska, Mycroft made a few gyrations and fell face first into his. From what I could tell, his hairline landed about Barrow while his chin touched down in Anchorage. From the way it looked, it didn’t matter that the flames had burned out before he dived in. Evidently, the sushi had given him food poisoning. If Mr. Mycroft had family, Michael the chef would soon be sued.

  4

  Quickly, I came to my senses and realized our murderer had struck. I jumped to my feet, pulled out my badge, and hollered, “I’m Lt. Dekker, Hilldale Police Department! Don’t anyone move! This man has had a heart attack.”

  From the looks on their faces the whole lot of them looked guilty. Either that or they were sick from the food and my yelling didn’t help matters. I motioned for Lou to check out the kitchen and keep everyone there in place. I walked past Lou’s chair and felt for a pulse. Miles Mycroft was definitely doornail dead, whatever that is.

  I asked the guests to go to their rooms and told them I’d let them know when it was okay to return to the table. Then, I asked Mrs. Longworth to return to her quarters, while I kept her husband at hand. She didn’t seem pleased, but she complied. I asked Longworth how many exits the inn had and was surprised when he told me only three. I expected an inn that size to have more, but it was originally built as a home and for some reason the current building codes didn’t apply to existing structures. I had Longworth show me how to dial an outside line, then motioned for him to join his wife. As he walked away, I told him I would let him know when he could return.

  Neither of the chefs wanted to leave the kitchen, but our server didn’t mind. After firing off a couple of verbal rounds, Lou and I were able to convince the twosome to do so. As far as I was concerned, every place in and about the inn was a crime scene. After making sure everything was secure, I hurried back to the phone and dialed Lt. Michaelson’s number. I knew he wasn’t on duty at that time of night, but I knew he would come.

  “George. Cy.”

  “Why hello, Cy. How’s retirement treating you?”

  “Okay up until today. I’m unretired now. Lou and I are at the Overlook Inn. There’s been a murder. Can you round up as many men as possible and come out here and help us? This place is so large it might take us a while to find our murderer.”

  “I was just sitting here with my wife in front of a cozy fireplace, but I’m sure I’d rather tackle the blinding snowstorm and join you and Lou.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, George, the snow stopped falling last night. Oh, and by the way, on your way out could you stop by the Blue Moon Diner and fetch Lou and me some food.”

  “That place where you are doesn’t have food?”

  “It does, but the stove’s broken. It won’t take you long. Just tell Thelma who you are and who the food is for. And feel free to get something for yourself. I’ll pay for it.”

  “Oh, you’ll pay for it all right, but not my dinner. My wife and I have already eaten, and unlike some people, I only eat one dinner a night.”

  I thanked him for his kindhearted gesture, then hung up and dialed Frank Harris’s number. Frank is the medical examiner.

  “Hello, Frank.”

  “Your voice sounds familiar. Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

  “You and George should take your act on the road. You’d be a big hit in Poughkeepsie.”

  “Oh, I think I recognize the voice now. Aren’t you the guy who used to work here part time? Don’t tell me you’re out in this mess.”

  “No, Frank. I’m the guy who’s now working full time, and Lou and I are indoors at the moment, but we’d like for you to join us.”

  “What’s the matter? Someone fall on an icicle and you want to know if it was murder?”

  “Pretty close, Frank. Actually, he fell on his ice cream.”

  “Do what?”

  “Frank, Lou and I are out at Precipice Point at the Overlook Inn. Someone just keeled over and we think he had help.”

  “Were you there when he keeled over?”

  “We were.”

  “And you couldn’t tell if someone pushed him, or not?”

  “Just come on out. I’ll give you the particulars when you get here.”

  “You mean I don’t have
to bring you anything?”

  “No. Thanks, Frank. George is picking up dinner for us.”

  “What? Oh, never mind. I’ll see you as soon as I can get the wagon going and get out there.”

  All Lou and I could do was wait. We didn’t want to disturb anything. An SOC team and the medical examiner would soon be able to tell us how to proceed. Lou and I wandered back to the dining room table. Mr. Mycroft wasn’t Lazarus. His face remained in his dessert, although the dessert had begun to run. I stepped to my place, and stuck a spoon in my baked Alaska. It turned out to be the best thing the chef had served. As long as I didn’t look at the deceased, I had no problem eating it.

  I finished and glanced at Lou. He looked a little sick.

  “Not you, too?”

  “Not that I know of, Cy, but we did eat the same stuff he ate.”

  “So did the others, but I see only one face full of dessert, or is that one dessert full of a face?”

  Lou laughed.

  “Maybe it wasn’t the dessert. None of the other desserts have been touched.”

  One had. I wondered if I looked as bad as I felt. With each breath I felt somewhat better, and when I hadn’t keeled over by the time the first of the bluecoats showed up, I felt even better. My disposition improved tremendously when George Michaelson showed up with our real dinner. Lou looked for an out-of-the-way place to chow down, a place without activity and fingerprints, and we let the other boys go to work. I noticed one of the officers was Officer Dan Davis, a young officer I had worked with on a previous case. I told him the inn had three exits, and instructed him to find them and two other officers to help him guard the exits to see that no one left the premises. Their first job was to open each outside door and check for footprints. There were none. No one had left the establishment.

  After Lou and I finished our dinner, courtesy of Thelma at the Blue Moon Diner and my good friend George, we sat down on the sofa while Frank examined Miles Mycroft’s body. A few minutes later, Frank walked over and tapped me on the shoulder.