Room At The Inn (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett
Authors: LL Bartlett
Tags: USA
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expression was one I recognized from other occasions: bored to death. I felt a little sorry for him, but that didn't keep me from smiling at his predicament.
We grabbed coffee and parked at a table nearby. The atmosphere wasn't so grim this morning. Zack, Nadine, and Adam were in the kitchen once again bantering back and forth. I decided against an entree, but went through the buffet and grabbed scrambled eggs and sausages. Maggie stuck with her favorite Western omelet and toast.
We'd almost finished eating by the time the Andolinas got up, leaving Richard with his cold coffee. He sat alone for a few minutes, staring out the window before getting up. He paused briefly at the table where the Canadian couple sat, spoke to them, again in French, and must have made a wonderful joke because they broke out in delighted laughter. I was working on my third cup of coffee when he finally made it to our table.
"My, we're popular with the other guests."
He ignored my comment. "You're looking better. How do you feel?"
"I've got a bit of headache, but it's the kind I'm used to having."
"Did you take your medication?"
"Of course. It's already fading."
"Good. Then maybe you'll feel like exploring the area."
"Sounds like a plan. Meet me out in the garden in ten minutes and we'll talk."
"Okay."
He wandered off and I sipped my coffee.
The Canadian couple finished their breakfasts and got up. I was surprised when they stopped to speak to us.
"How are you today?" the woman asked in only slightly accented English. She brushed a strand of her long, brown hair behind her left ear, her expression concerned.
"Much better, thank you."
"I am Michele DuBois and this is my husband, Jean."
I introduced Maggie and myself.
"I was so worried when you had your accident last night. Frightening things have been happening here." She studied my face for a moment, perplexed. "Do you know, you seem to resemble the doctor."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "I do?"
"Oui. It's impossible, no? But your noses are very similar. I am an artist. I paint for a living. My specialty is portraits."
Jean gently nudged her arm. "We must go."
She smiled. "Good day."
After they'd gone, I found Maggie studying me. "I don't think you look like Richard."
"He got our mother's blue eyes, I got my father's brown eyes."
She shrugged and pushed back her chair. "I'm going to the room. Want me to bring you anything?"
"Yeah, my camera bag. If we're going out, I may as well take some pictures." That is if I c ould buy another memory card.
"Okay. Meet you at the car in fifteen minutes." She headed for the stairs and I left my empty plate and cup on the table and made for the door to the gardens.
Although the temperature was in the mid-sixties, the trees were already beginning to show the change of season. The highest branches were tinged with yellow and orange. Zack and Susan had dug a fishpond near the inn's namesake sugar maple, and I wandered across the enormous yard, stopping by the miniature lake. Seeing my shadow, the fish gathered before me, impatiently waiting for food.
"Sorry, boys, it ain't feeding time." I sat down on the bench provided and watched the fish swim in lazy circles.
A lot of care had gone into the gardens in the back, but like the front of the inn there were signs of neglect. Maggie said Zack used to own a landscaping business, so he must've had the green thumb. I couldn't imagine Susan getting dirt under her long nails.
"Penny for your thoughts," came Richard's voice from behind me.
I turned. "I don't think I can make change."
He held a slice of bread, broke off a corner, and tossed it into the pond. The fish went wild, like hungry piranha.
"Are you supposed to do that?"
"Probably not." He threw in another piece. "What's on tap today?"
"Maggie's freaked. She wants to go home. Hell, I want to go home. But I have this feeling something's going to break today. If it does, maybe we can leave tomorrow. In the meantime, let's do some touristy
We grabbed coffee and parked at a table nearby. The atmosphere wasn't so grim this morning. Zack, Nadine, and Adam were in the kitchen once again bantering back and forth. I decided against an entree, but went through the buffet and grabbed scrambled eggs and sausages. Maggie stuck with her favorite Western omelet and toast.
We'd almost finished eating by the time the Andolinas got up, leaving Richard with his cold coffee. He sat alone for a few minutes, staring out the window before getting up. He paused briefly at the table where the Canadian couple sat, spoke to them, again in French, and must have made a wonderful joke because they broke out in delighted laughter. I was working on my third cup of coffee when he finally made it to our table.
"My, we're popular with the other guests."
He ignored my comment. "You're looking better. How do you feel?"
"I've got a bit of headache, but it's the kind I'm used to having."
"Did you take your medication?"
"Of course. It's already fading."
"Good. Then maybe you'll feel like exploring the area."
"Sounds like a plan. Meet me out in the garden in ten minutes and we'll talk."
"Okay."
He wandered off and I sipped my coffee.
The Canadian couple finished their breakfasts and got up. I was surprised when they stopped to speak to us.
"How are you today?" the woman asked in only slightly accented English. She brushed a strand of her long, brown hair behind her left ear, her expression concerned.
"Much better, thank you."
"I am Michele DuBois and this is my husband, Jean."
I introduced Maggie and myself.
"I was so worried when you had your accident last night. Frightening things have been happening here." She studied my face for a moment, perplexed. "Do you know, you seem to resemble the doctor."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "I do?"
"Oui. It's impossible, no? But your noses are very similar. I am an artist. I paint for a living. My specialty is portraits."
Jean gently nudged her arm. "We must go."
She smiled. "Good day."
After they'd gone, I found Maggie studying me. "I don't think you look like Richard."
"He got our mother's blue eyes, I got my father's brown eyes."
She shrugged and pushed back her chair. "I'm going to the room. Want me to bring you anything?"
"Yeah, my camera bag. If we're going out, I may as well take some pictures." That is if I c ould buy another memory card.
"Okay. Meet you at the car in fifteen minutes." She headed for the stairs and I left my empty plate and cup on the table and made for the door to the gardens.
Although the temperature was in the mid-sixties, the trees were already beginning to show the change of season. The highest branches were tinged with yellow and orange. Zack and Susan had dug a fishpond near the inn's namesake sugar maple, and I wandered across the enormous yard, stopping by the miniature lake. Seeing my shadow, the fish gathered before me, impatiently waiting for food.
"Sorry, boys, it ain't feeding time." I sat down on the bench provided and watched the fish swim in lazy circles.
A lot of care had gone into the gardens in the back, but like the front of the inn there were signs of neglect. Maggie said Zack used to own a landscaping business, so he must've had the green thumb. I couldn't imagine Susan getting dirt under her long nails.
"Penny for your thoughts," came Richard's voice from behind me.
I turned. "I don't think I can make change."
He held a slice of bread, broke off a corner, and tossed it into the pond. The fish went wild, like hungry piranha.
"Are you supposed to do that?"
"Probably not." He threw in another piece. "What's on tap today?"
"Maggie's freaked. She wants to go home. Hell, I want to go home. But I have this feeling something's going to break today. If it does, maybe we can leave tomorrow. In the meantime, let's do some touristy
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