dinner hold?” Maureen asked.
“Easily,” I said. “Dishes like this are even better the next day.”
“Oh, I have a recipe like that. It’s for meatballs coated in a lemonade mix and cooked in milk. It sounds strange, but it’s really delicious.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Seth said.
“No, really, it was good. Wasn’t it, honey?” Maureen asked Mort.
“It was an interesting combination, hon,” Mort said, his expression pained. “Well, if the rest of you don’t mind going out in the cold, I’d be happy for the company.”
We piled into Mort’s SUV, the perfect vehicle for the weather, and drove to the arena. The trip was slow, thanks to the heavy snowfall. Mort’s radio crackled with reports of accidents—cars skidding through traffic lights near the strip mall outside town, complaints of stalled cars, an unfortunate encounter with a moose, and Mayor Jim Shevlin’s call for residents to stay home and off the roads to let the snowplows do their job. The mayor’s counsel notwithstanding, the parking lot was full when we arrived at the rink. Mort drove around to the main entrance and pulled into an empty handicapped spot, and we got out.
Thick white flakes fell steadily, frosting the trees and blanketing everything in sight. Most of the cars in the parking lot were caked with snow. It was going to take some folks time to dig out before they could get home.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” Maureen said. “Isn’t it nice?” She tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue. She giggled. “We used to love to catch the snow on our tongues when I was a kid. You never really got enough for a taste of it, though.”
Seth pulled out his medical bag and surveyed the parking lot. “What the devil are all these people doing here in the middle of a blizzard?”
“It’s Friday night,” Maureen replied.
He shook his head. “A good night to be home.”
“I told you this was a popular place for youngsters,” I said. “There’s probably a hockey game tonight, or a rehearsal for the upcoming show.”
“Let’s see what all the fuss was about,” Mort said, taking Maureen’s arm.
We walked up the stairs to the entrance and trooped inside. The temperature wasn’t much warmer than what we’d left outdoors, but the sound level was decidedly higher. It looked as if half of Cabot Cove had come to the rink, the younger half anyway. Children, from babies in strollers to teens in makeup, some in skates and some in sneakers or boots, occupied the entry hall from one end to the other. Every one of the round tables was occupied. Mothers and fathers wrangled with different groups of youngsters, trying to tie skate laces, zip up jackets, and snap on helmets. Others were carrying trays of hot dogs, French fries, and soda, or grabbing for sleeves as a child raced by. Clusters of teenagers, trying to ignore the younger children, gathered by gender and wandered in and out of the skating areas.
As I’d predicted, there was a game in progress on the hockey rink for the bantam division, a sign said, and a general session was taking place on the ice where I’d skated. Referees in black-and-white striped shirts directed the action in the hockey game, and rink personnel, some of whom I hadn’t met before but who were easily visible in their big brown down jackets, manned the office and skate rental and patrolled the public skating rink.
Mort stopped at the counter in front of the office and showed Marisa his badge. “We got a call to come to the rink. What happened?” he asked.
“I didn’t see anything unless it was the fuss made by Alexei’s former partner. I caught a glimpse of her this morning, and she came back tonight, parading in here in a big fur coat looking for him. I told her that he probably went home, but she wouldn’t listen. She had these two goons with her, and her dog wouldn’t stop barking. She kept insisting Alexei was here and ordering me to go find him and
“Easily,” I said. “Dishes like this are even better the next day.”
“Oh, I have a recipe like that. It’s for meatballs coated in a lemonade mix and cooked in milk. It sounds strange, but it’s really delicious.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Seth said.
“No, really, it was good. Wasn’t it, honey?” Maureen asked Mort.
“It was an interesting combination, hon,” Mort said, his expression pained. “Well, if the rest of you don’t mind going out in the cold, I’d be happy for the company.”
We piled into Mort’s SUV, the perfect vehicle for the weather, and drove to the arena. The trip was slow, thanks to the heavy snowfall. Mort’s radio crackled with reports of accidents—cars skidding through traffic lights near the strip mall outside town, complaints of stalled cars, an unfortunate encounter with a moose, and Mayor Jim Shevlin’s call for residents to stay home and off the roads to let the snowplows do their job. The mayor’s counsel notwithstanding, the parking lot was full when we arrived at the rink. Mort drove around to the main entrance and pulled into an empty handicapped spot, and we got out.
Thick white flakes fell steadily, frosting the trees and blanketing everything in sight. Most of the cars in the parking lot were caked with snow. It was going to take some folks time to dig out before they could get home.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” Maureen said. “Isn’t it nice?” She tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue. She giggled. “We used to love to catch the snow on our tongues when I was a kid. You never really got enough for a taste of it, though.”
Seth pulled out his medical bag and surveyed the parking lot. “What the devil are all these people doing here in the middle of a blizzard?”
“It’s Friday night,” Maureen replied.
He shook his head. “A good night to be home.”
“I told you this was a popular place for youngsters,” I said. “There’s probably a hockey game tonight, or a rehearsal for the upcoming show.”
“Let’s see what all the fuss was about,” Mort said, taking Maureen’s arm.
We walked up the stairs to the entrance and trooped inside. The temperature wasn’t much warmer than what we’d left outdoors, but the sound level was decidedly higher. It looked as if half of Cabot Cove had come to the rink, the younger half anyway. Children, from babies in strollers to teens in makeup, some in skates and some in sneakers or boots, occupied the entry hall from one end to the other. Every one of the round tables was occupied. Mothers and fathers wrangled with different groups of youngsters, trying to tie skate laces, zip up jackets, and snap on helmets. Others were carrying trays of hot dogs, French fries, and soda, or grabbing for sleeves as a child raced by. Clusters of teenagers, trying to ignore the younger children, gathered by gender and wandered in and out of the skating areas.
As I’d predicted, there was a game in progress on the hockey rink for the bantam division, a sign said, and a general session was taking place on the ice where I’d skated. Referees in black-and-white striped shirts directed the action in the hockey game, and rink personnel, some of whom I hadn’t met before but who were easily visible in their big brown down jackets, manned the office and skate rental and patrolled the public skating rink.
Mort stopped at the counter in front of the office and showed Marisa his badge. “We got a call to come to the rink. What happened?” he asked.
“I didn’t see anything unless it was the fuss made by Alexei’s former partner. I caught a glimpse of her this morning, and she came back tonight, parading in here in a big fur coat looking for him. I told her that he probably went home, but she wouldn’t listen. She had these two goons with her, and her dog wouldn’t stop barking. She kept insisting Alexei was here and ordering me to go find him and
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