Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [15]
Alex almost brushed the older man off. He had too much to do to stop and chat. But, he reminded himself, he surely wasn’t in the innkeeping business for the money. It was the vast array of people who passed through his door that kept Alex enthused about Hatteras West.
“Maybe just a short one,” Alex said as he took a rocker beside the older man.
“Why, that’s delightful,” Evans said as he reached into the cooler that was always beside him. He pulled out a chilled glass, carefully transferred a few pristine ice cubes into it, then poured Alex a liberal portion of steaming tea from his thermos into the glass.
Alex could hear the ice crack as he took the glass. “That’s the key,” Evans said solemnly. “The tea must remain hot until the last possible moment. When that rich steaming liquid meets the ice, ah, ambrosia.”
Alex took a sip and had to admit it was the best iced tea he’d ever had. It should be, after all the work the man put into his brew.
“Is this ConTea?” Alex asked, trying to hide his smile as he mentioned the brand name.
Evans looked so offended he nearly fell off his chair. “My good sir, I would never use a store-bought blend. Why, I have my tea carefully selected from only the finest...” His words trailed off as he saw the grin on Alex’s face. Evans chuckled softly. “You’re joshing me, of course. Alex, you’re a bigger rascal than your father was, if that’s possible.”
Alex’s father had run the inn before him, and while his dad had joked constantly with his guests and the people from town, his humor was usually in smaller supply with Alex.
Alex took a sip of tea, then said, “Thanks, I take that as a compliment. So, what do you think of our little fair?”
“It’s quite exciting, what with the murder and all. I feel I’m right in the midst of it all here.” In a pleased voice, Evans added triumphantly, “Alex, I believe I know who skewered the blacksmith.”
That certainly got Alex’s attention. “Did you see something, Evans? You need to tell Sheriff Armstrong; he’s getting ready to arrest Bill Yadkin!”
Evans took a sip of tea, then said softly, “Easy, my boy. I have no direct evidence, but I’ve seen the world from this chair these last few days when no one has realized I’ve been watching. You’d be amazed by what I’ve witnessed.”
Alex’s hopes for a solution suddenly deflated. The murder was obviously just a puzzle for the older man to mull over during his massive blocks of spare time.
“So who’s your chief suspect?” Alex asked.
“I’d have to say the sheriff is right this time, Alex.
Young Yadkin and Mr. Lee had a terrible squabble right in front of the inn yesterday as they set up their booths. Their tempers were boiling, I tell you.”
“I don’t know, Evans. I just can’t see Bill Yadkin doing it, but you could be right.”
Evans tapped his glass with a fingernail. “Of course, everyone else saw that argument, too. It could just be a clever ruse to frame young Yadkin. The murderer used one of his pieces to commit the atrocity, didn’t he?”
Alex said, “I’m surprised you’ve already heard about that.”
Evans laughed. “Alex Winston, you’ve lived in Elkton Falls your entire life. I thought you’d be used to the kudzu vine by now. Word spreads faster than the vine itself in summertime,” Evans said as he took another sip from his glass.
Alex finished off the last of his tea and handed the glass back to Evans. “Thanks for the drink. It was excellent, as always.”
“Are you certain you won’t have another sip? There’s plenty, Alex.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do.”
Evans shook his head slowly. “The harried life of the innkeeper, Alex, leaves little time for reflection.”
Alex patted the man’s shoulder gently as he stood. “You’re preaching to the choir, Evans, but the work has to be done.”
Alex went back to his office to retrieve the copies he’d made of the note he’d found in Jefferson Lee’s room.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Alex realized the copies were gone!
Alex knew he’d left them on his desk by the copier in his rush to return the postcard to Jefferson