Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [29]
The room was blessedly empty.
Alex whispered, “What are we looking for?”
Armstrong said, “We’re not looking for anything. We were standing in the hallway and we thought we heard someone calling for help.”
Alex had to agree that the logic would probably hold up if they were discovered in the room. “You do your search. I think I’ll go get her some fresh towels.”
Alex went down the hall and peeked his head into his own room. It looked like Elise was just finishing up her breakfast preparations.
Alex said, “That smells wonderful. What is it?”
“The Elise Danton Western Omelet. I hope you’re hungry. I got carried away and made enough for three.”
“That’s good. We’ll probably have to feed Sheriff Armstrong, too.”
Alex quickly brought her up to date on what had happened. “Don’t worry about Junior’s clothes. When I clean his room, I’ll snoop around a little. In the meantime, why don’t you retrieve the sheriff and I’ll set another place at the table.”
Alex did just that, finding the sheriff closing the door to the Matthews woman’s room as he entered the hallway. It was just as well. He’d forgotten to get fresh towels from the linen closet anyway. Alex said, “Find anything?”
Armstrong jumped a foot in the air. “You’ve got to quit sneaking up on people like that. It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
Alex bit his lip to keep a smile from showing. “Was there anything in there worthwhile?”
“Nothing but a pile of rocks. Crazy, huh?”
Alex laughed. “Sheriff, I’ve yet to meet a ‘normal’ guest at this inn. We attract the unusual types. I had one guest who collected nothing but gravel because he thought the color was pretty. I’ve uncovered hordes of pinecones, branches, even old bottles. What surprises me is so many of the guests don’t take their ‘finds’ with them. I could build a rock garden just with the stones I haul out of my guest rooms every season.” The sheriff’s stomach rumbled noticeably, and Alex asked, “Have you had your breakfast yet?”
Armstrong patted his big belly. “I had a quick meal, but I could always use another bite. What’d you have in mind?”
“Elise is fixing an omelet in my room, and she’s made more than enough for you to join us.”
Armstrong raised one eyebrow. “I’d be pleased to join you, if three’s not a crowd.”
Alex let a little of his ire enter his voice. “It’s not a date, Armstrong, it’s breakfast. Eat or not, suit yourself.”
As the two of them walked toward Alex’s room, the sheriff asked, “Is that what you two were doing last night at Mamma Ravolini’s?”
“It was business,” Alex said sternly. That was one of the problems with small towns. Everybody made it a point to know what everybody else was doing. Alex didn’t dignify the question with any more of an explanation than that.
The smells coming out of his room were pure ambrosia to the bachelor chef, and quite out of the ordinary compared with his usual breakfast—a bowl of cold cereal.
One of the game tables in the lobby had been set up like it belonged in a fine restaurant. Elise had found a tablecloth in the linen closet and had even adorned the center of the small table with some wildflowers she found outside.
Elise said, “Why don’t you two go ahead and sit down. I’ll have everything ready in a minute.”
As the three of them ate, they discussed everything but Reg’s murder, though the unspoken topic hung over their thoughts like gravid black clouds.
Alex noticed that, though it was the sheriff’s second breakfast, there was nothing left on the man’s plate but a hazy shine.
For a second it looked like the sheriff was going to loosen his belt another notch. He leaned back in his chair instead and said, “Ma’am, that was the best omelet I’ve ever had. You ought to open up your own restaurant.”
Elisa smiled slightly. “I believe I’ve found an appreciative audience at last.”
“It really was delicious, Elise. Thank you,” Alex added.
Armstrong pushed himself away from the small table and said, “I hate to eat and run,