A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2) by LYNN BOHART

chocolate was too strong, and I had to have it. So, I slipped my feet into my slippers and donned my robe.
    My destination was the Inn’s main kitchen, where I knew April had stashed the chocolate chip cookies for the snack tray we put out for the guests every day. I usually get up a couple of times a night to go to the restroom, so Mickey and Minnie merely looked at me from the center of the bed as I headed for the bedroom door. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, however, their little internal alarms went off. They scurried out from under the blanket and flew off the bed, shaking and wiggling to wake themselves up.
    “Okay, but you have to be quiet,” I warned, looking down at them.
    They watched me eagerly. They were both long-haired miniature Dachshunds, with short, stubby little legs. Mickey was black and tan, while Minnie was a copper red. Mickey plopped down into a prone position and let out a pathetic groan, as if he thought I was going to leave him behind.
    “Oh, c’mon,” I said.
    The hallways in the Inn are floored in dark hardwood, softened with red and gold carpet runners. Small plug-in night lights lit my way. My slippers made little sound as I padded toward the kitchen, but the dogs’ nails clickety-clacked as they wandered off the carpet.
    My apartment sat down a curved corridor, with only a public restroom and the laundry past me. I wound my way around to the front entryway. No one was about. It was the middle of the night after all – or the early morning, however you chose to look at it.
    As I passed the Inn’s front door, I could hear my big grandfather clock ticking softly in the entryway. It was one of the few antique pieces not for sale at the Inn. I used the area to the right of the door and next to the clock to display small collections of other antiques that were for sale. Currently, I had crafted a shipboard themed display, including two steamer trunks, an old ship’s wheel, a captain’s cap and a solid brass ship bell. We always leave one small lamp lit on a table in the entry, and another one on the reception desk for anyone coming back late. The rest of the ground floor was left in shadow.
    Ahab’s cage sat next to a patio door on the far side of the breakfast room, but I always draped it at night. I glanced that way as I tip-toed into the room, hoping I wouldn’t wake him. The breakfast room was shaped in the half of an octagon, which jutted out onto the back deck. Each of the four angled walls held paned windows. We always drew the lightweight drapes at night, so I was startled by the flash of a light from outside.
    I stopped and stared a moment, wondering if I’d seen it at all.
    The breakfast room looked out onto Lake Washington and the South Seattle shoreline. To the right was a grove of trees and a path that led to Goldie’s home.
    I couldn’t imagine anyone out for a stroll at this time of morning, especially because it was so cold. The rain had stopped, so more likely it was a boat out for some early fishing.
    I shrugged it off and turned for the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door. The dogs scooted in after me as the door swung closed. I headed straight for the big Tupperware container that sat on the counter next to the sink. I didn’t have to turn on a light, because April always left a small hurricane lamp lit on the kitchen table.
    My first task was to give the dogs each a dental stick. That would keep them busy, while I grabbed a couple of cookies and a glass of milk. They settled in on opposite sides of a big dog bed we kept in the corner, and I sat at the center island to enjoy my snack.
    The cookies were divine. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn they were still warm, but I knew that was just my over-active imagination.
    Thunck!
    A soft noise made me glance outside nervously. A flowering cherry tree hugged the window, and I looked past that to the stake lights, which dotted two small lawns on either side of the deck. The dock was lit by a