A Taste for Murder by Claudia Bishop Page A

lot of out-of-town phone calls?" Quill asked coolly.

Baumer showed his teeth in what might have been a grin. "Lots." He raised his hand and shouted, "Barkeep! Another round for us. And I'd like to buy you a drink, Ms. Quilliam. What's your poison?"

"Nate will bring me a cup of coffee. Mavis, about last night - "

"Wasn't it awful?" Mavis' eyes filled with ready tears. "That poor, poor man. I'd only met him that day. But he was such a friendly soul. So open, so candid in his needs. I declare, it was like seeing a dear friend pass."

Baumer gripped her knee with a proprietary air. "Comfort is what you need, Mave. And I've got just the ticket."

Mavis dimpled at him. Nate set drinks and a plate of hors d'oeuvres on the table, a signal he had shorted the liquor in at least Mavis' mint julep. "Compliments of the house, Mr. Baumer."

"Hold it, hold it, my man. Let's see what we have here." Baumer poked disparagingly through the food. "Stuffed mush- rooms, for God's sake. You'd think a place with this kind of reputation would be a little more creative, eh? And what the hell is this? Liverwurst?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Quill.

"Meg's Country Pƒt‚," said Quill. "And that's pork rillette, and anchovy paste on sourdough."

Baumer stuffed a mushroom in his mouth, chewed, and grunted, "Not bad. I've had better. But not bad. Here, kiddo, sink your teeth into this." He offered Mavis a pork rillette.

Quill, contemplating Mavis, remembered that John had seen them at the Croh Bar. Was there any connection between John's disappearance and Gil's drowning last night? Her palms went cold. "I wasn't very clear on what did happen last night, Mavis. Was Mrs. Hallenbeck with you all evening?"

Mavis scowled. "Pretty near. We went down to Marge's for dinner. It was a business meeting, you know, whatever that Nadine-person thought. Gil wanted to talk with Amelia about investing in his business."

"She doesn't act like she has that kind of money."

"Who? Amelia?" Mavis snorted, leaving a significant portion of the pork rillette on her chin. "You've got to be kidding. She's loaded."

Quill, hoping for more information, raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, she is. She held practically all of the stock in Doggone Good Dogs. Made out like a bandit when the company was sold."

"She did?" said Quill.

"Well, sure. Her husband must have left her a packet, although she sure acts like she's broke. Penny-pinching ol' thing." Mavis giggled uncertainly. Her eyes were glazed. Baumer solicitously helped her to the rest of her mint julep.

"So that's how you met her? You worked for her husband?"

"Who says so?" demanded Mavis suddenly. "Who says I worked for him? It's a damn lie!" She swayed a little in her chair, the teddy bear on her T-shirt blinking furiously.

Quill was going to have to sober her up before asking about John. And she sure didn't want to ask any more questions in front of the rude and inquisitive Baumer. "Are you sure you don't want to lie down, Mavis?" said Quill. "You know, Dr. Bishop thought you should take it easy for a few days."

Mavis got to her feet. She swayed a little, her face pale. "I declare, I do feel jus' a little bit woozy."

"Why don't you come and lie down in my room," said Baumer. "I can give you a back rub or something, help you sleep."

"I'll give her a hand, Mr. Baumer," said Quill coldly. "Come on,. Mavis. Alley-oop."

"Alley-oop!"

Quill propelled Mavis firmly through the bar and up the short flight of stairs to two-sixteen. She knocked briefly on the door; when no answer came from Mrs. Hallenbeck, she used her master key and pulled Mavis inside. The rooms were dark, the drapes drawn.

"Who's there?" called a timid voice.

"It's me, Mrs. Hallenbeck. I've brought Mavis up for a nap." Quill eased Mavis, by now half-asleep, onto the bed. The connecting door opened, and Mrs. Hallenbeck peered fearfully into the room.

"She is not drunk again, is she?"

Quill pulled the bedspread over the blinking T-shirt. Mavis looked up