Room At The Inn (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett Page B

though I have a direct pipeline to the future. Just because I sometimes have flashes of insight, they think I know more than I do. This time I played along; she'd already had her contract extended once.
    "Of course."
    A string of traffic zoomed by. "Come on," Maggie said, tugging my hand. "Or Richard will get to town before us."
    She got into the car and I crossed to the driver's door, taking one last look at the innocent surroundings, wishing I could pin down why I felt so apprehensive about the place—knowing I'd eventually find out, and dreading it.
     

Chapter 11
     
    I was able to get another memory card at one of the shops along Stowe’s main drag, and went back to the car to wait for Richard. Eventually the white Buick station wagon pulled alongside my parked car. "Where we going?" Richard called through the open window.
    "To Ben and Jerry's for ice cream. Want to drive?" I said.
    "Why not. I've got nothing better to do."
    We transferred our stuff to the station wagon and locked the Chevy. Richard drove out of the lot and we were on our way.
    Ben and Jerry's ice cream factory and amusement center was going full tilt at 10:30 on a Sunday, holiday-weekend morning. People were already lined up for the factory tours and the ice cream stand was crowded with people waiting to consume a thousand plus calories. We bought tickets for the 11:15 tour and killed time at the cow viewing area, where Richard and Maggie mugged for the camera. Next we headed for the gift shop to drop a few more bucks.
    The tour wasn't as thorough as I'd hoped. Because of the holiday, the packaging line was shut down. But we got a free sample of Cherry Garcia and spent time reading the funky letters that decorated the corridors from celebrities and ordinary Joes like us.
    Maggie was dying for more English Toffee crunch, so afterwards we lined up and bought cones. Strolling down the asphalt walkway, I heard a voice call out.
    "Wait! Please wait!"
    I turned. Kay Andolina hurried toward us. She got within ten feet of me before she stopped dead. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were—"
    "Who?"
    The anticipation in her eyes turned to confusion and disappointment. She looked from Richard to me as though searching our faces for some elusive answer. At last she looked away, embarrassed.
    I hadn't counted on running into any of our fellow guests. I didn't want anyone to know about my relationship with Richard—and here we'd been caught in a very public place.
    Maggie's smile was friendly. "Small world, isn't it?"
    Kay frowned, her gaze hardening.
    "Have you taken the tour?" Richard asked.
    She shook her head. "Fred's getting tickets now."
    "Nice as it is, we just had to get away from the inn," Maggie said.
    "Yes," Kay agreed. "We'd been looking forward to a peaceful weekend in the mountains. Now, with Ms. Marshall's death, it's more like a nightmare."
    Children romped by us. A dog barked somewhere behind me and an elderly couple jostled past. The building's painted murals seemed too bright. Time wavered and something flashed before my mind's eye. Actually more of an impression—of something Kay Andolina had seen.
    "She argued with Laura Ross," I blurted. "The day before we got there. Wednesday, right?"
    Kay looked at me strangely. "How did you know?"
    "What did they fight about?"
    "It was none of my business," she said.
    "Jeff!" Maggie dabbed at my hand with a paper napkin. Ice cream dripped down my fingers, the cone was crushed in my fist.
    Fred appeared, handing his wife a ticket stub. "Hello," he greeted us. In contrast to Kay, he seemed relieved to see some familiar faces. "We have to hurry, dear, the tour starts in a few minutes." He took his wife's hand, leading her away.
    I didn't watch them go. My attention was focused on the mess that had been my ice cream cone.
    Richard cleared his throat. "Why don't we sit down," he said, turned me by the shoulder and pointed me in the direction of an empty picnic table.
    I tossed the cone into a nearby trash