Murder in the Winter by Steve Demaree

the inn. We spent most of the time telling them about all the inn has to
offer and answered any questions any of them had.”
    “What questions were those?”
    “Oh, the usual. What time the pool and library opened
and closed each day. How long before our first play in the auditorium.”
    “Yes, Mr. McArthur mentioned that you planned to offer
plays to your guests at some point in the near future.”
    “He did?”
    “Yes, had you talked to him about that? I know he wasn’t
present at dinner Thursday night, but he seemed to know that you planned to
return to the days of yesteryear with a full compliment of plays.”
    I might have embellished my rendition of McArthur’s
comments, but I wanted to see how Longworth responded.
    “Well, we do plan to offer plays again, but that will
be a ways down the road.”
    “I guess Mr. McArthur was mistaken.”
    “Maybe just a little overexcited. A lot of people have
enjoyed plays at the inn. Are you one of them, Lieutenant?”
    “No, Mr. Longworth, I’ve never had the pleasure.”
    “Well, when we begin I must be sure to leave four
tickets for you and the sergeant. Maybe you would enjoy a Shakespearean comedy,
or our rendition of Macbeth.”
    I shuddered at the thought. What would be next? Would
he offer us complimentary dinners before the performance?
    “Mr. Longworth, I’m just a little curious as to why
you haven’t asked about your murdered and missing guests.”
    “I assume that information is confidential,
Lieutenant.”
    “Oh, one other thing, Mr. Longworth. Why didn’t you
tell me that the inn has hidden passageways?”
    “Now, Lieutenant, we don’t want our guests roaming
through those passageways.  They might get hurt.  And could you imagine what
our insurance payments would be if we allowed that?”
    “I understand that, but why didn’t you tell me about
them after you found out I was with the police department?”
    “It escaped my mind. Besides, I didn’t think any of
our guests would know about them, so I imagined you would have been wasting
your time looking for someone there.”
    “And you would’ve assumed wrong. I believe it is possible
that Mrs. Dukenfield navigated those passageways in order to make her escape.”
    Mr. Longworth laughed.
    “Mrs. Dukenfield, that old woman. I don’t want to be
disrespectful, but it sounds preposterous.”
    “It does to me, too, but there’s no sign of her
anywhere on the premises.”
    I must have paused too long, for I gave Longworth an opportunity
to get something off his chest.
    “Lieutenant, one thing I would like to address. Is it
necessary for Miss Humphert to remain in her room?”
    “At least until tomorrow. And could you have someone
check with her periodically to walk her dog?”
    “Of course, Lieutenant, but why must she remain in her
room? No one else is confined.”
    “For safety reasons, Mr. Longworth.”
    I let him think I meant her safety, when I was really
thinking about my own. Maybe safety wasn’t the right word, but I couldn’t tell
him it was for my peace of mind. He didn’t know the woman like I did.
    “Well, Mr. Longworth, I think that’ll be all for now.
Could you tell me where I can find Mr. Mitchuson?” 
    “What could you possibly want with him?”
    “Now, Mr. Longworth, if I wanted to tell you that, I
would have invited you to stay while I question him. Now, where did you say I
could find him?”
    “Manfred is probably in his quarters.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Longworth. I’ll send Sgt. Murdock with
you so you can show him where Mr. Mitchuson’s quarters are.”
    A rather displeased innkeeper left, followed by a sergeant.
A couple of minutes later, Lou returned with Manfred Mitchuson.
    “Hello, Manfred. Have a seat. You don’t mind if I call
you Manfred, do you?”
    “That’s my name, Lieutenant. Go ahead.”
    “Manfred, did you by any chance shovel the snow from
the roof on Friday morning.”
    “That I did, Lieutenant.”
    “Could you tell if anyone had been up