Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [10]
Emma Sturbridge had come to the inn as a guest searching for some of the emeralds the area was famous for, and she’d ended up staying in Elkton Falls. The town had that effect on some people, drawing them in like bees to fresh blossoms. Emma now owned a crisply kept little cottage in town, and Alex believed that its proximity to Mor or Les’s repair shop was anything but an accident. She’d been delighted to announce to Mor that she fancied him, and to Alex’s surprise, it hadn’t taken Mor long to reciprocate.
Mor said, “Emma, I’ve got to get back to town. I have a full schedule today.” He laughed at Alex. “Believe it or not, you’re not even on my list.”
“The new boiler’s running as calm and quiet as a whisper,” Alex said.
Mor nodded. “I’m glad you took some of the money from the new construction budget to replace it, but I kind of miss hanging around, Alex.” The old boiler had been a nightmare for both men, and Alex wondered which of them had been more relieved to see it go. It now resided, in various pieces, at Amy Lang’s studio, destined to be wed with other discards to become another piece of her modern sculpture. Amy was fairly new to Elkton Falls, though her people had come from the Foothills several generations before. Once the fair was over, Alex promised himself to make it a point to visit her studio. After all, she was one of his closest neighbors, though their respective businesses kept them busy at their own tasks.
“Are you heading back with me?” Mor asked.
Emma said, “I think I’ll stay and catch up with Elise. I haven’t seen her in days. I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed Mor soundly, and he laughed brightly when Emma stepped back.
“You’re good for me, woman,” he said, still smiling.
“It’s nice to be appreciated, but you’re going to be late.”
Mor grinned at Alex. “She’s a worse slave driver than Les is.”
“Oh, go on with you,” Emma said.
After Mor was gone, Emma said, “Where’s Elise? I want to show her my new sweater.”
“She’s somewhere inside,” Alex said.
Emma patted his shoulder. “I’m so sorry about the murder. It’s not your fault, Alex. You know that, don’t you?”
Alex smiled sadly. “In my heart I know you’re right. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I realize this kind of thing happens all the time. I just wish it hadn’t happened here.”
As he watched more people stream into the fair, Alex saw Sandra’s BMW cut through the crowd and make its way to the front steps of the inn.
She got out of the car, showing a flash of her long legs as she did. Sandra always wore the shortest skirts she could get away with in court. There was no doubt she got the male jurors’ attention that way, but she held it with her persuasive arguments. When the two of them had been dating, Alex had sat in on one of her closing statements just to see her in action, and he’d been overwhelmed by her presence in court. Sandra
was remarkably good at what she did, and Alex began to realize that she had won most of their arguments for a reason. That had been one of their problems. Sandra could convince him of just about anything when they were together. Only afterward did he realize that he’d been played expertly to come to the conclusions she’d wanted him to reach.
“Alex, it’s good to be back at Hatteras West. I’ve missed this place.”
Alex said, “I’m afraid you’re too late, Sandra. The sheriff’s already taken Bill into town.”
“He hasn’t arrested him, has he?”
Alex said, “No, but he said to tell you that he was taking Bill to jail so he could interrogate him without being interrupted.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Sandra said.
Alex added, “Sandra, I’m not sure how he’s set financially. I probably shouldn’t have brought you in on this, but I didn’t know who else to call.”
She touched his arm lightly. “Don’t worry about it, Alex. You did the right thing. I can always write it off as my contribution to the arts.”
“One thing, Sandra. Bill Yadkin’s got a real temper. It’s not going