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

other to my ear. A light went on, and I glanced up to find a gaggle of guests staring at me from the entryway with a mixture of fear and alarm etched on their faces. I turned to find Goldie, standing behind me with her shotgun in her hand, a look of sublime satisfaction on her face.
    “You okay, Julia?” she asked.
    I looked from her and back to my guests and thought, Damn! Here we go again .
     
     

CHAPTER TEN
     
    I left Goldie in the breakfast room and went to address the guests.
    “It’s okay,” I lied, breathing heavily and massaging my throat. “Someone…uh…someone broke in and stole our parrot. But no one was hurt.”
    “But that woman shot off a gun,” an older woman said in an accusing tone.
    Her name was Mrs. Fenster, and she was in town for her granddaughter’s christening.
    “Yes, just to scare him away,” I said, turning toward Goldie. “But no one is in any danger. We’re fine.”
    “Well, I called the police,” she stated, straightening up. “As soon as I heard the dogs bark.”
    “Very good,” I replied. “That’s good. Now maybe everyone should go back upstairs.”
    A new guest, Mr. Dalton, appeared at the open front door. “What’s going on?” he said upon seeing the gathered crowd.
    He wasn’t much over twenty-five and was in town for a conference at Microsoft. The cold air made me step past him to close the door.
    “There was a thief,” an elderly man named Mr. Brewster said. “You missed all of the excitement.” He and his wife were in town for a second honeymoon, and he looked pleased to have a story to tell.
    Mr. Dalton’s face was flushed, and he smelled of alcohol. He looked around warily. “Too bad. I was…uh, out with a friend.”
    “Did you see anyone running away from the Inn?” I asked him.
    He paused and glanced around to the anxious faces. “No. Sorry. Is everyone okay?”
    “Yes,” I said. The sound of sirens made me look out the sidelight window. “Um…the police will take care of things. Maybe you all could just go back upstairs.” I made a motion to usher them along.
    “Won’t they need to interview us?” Mrs. Fenster asked.
    “I doubt it,” I said, thinking she was just a busybody who wanted in on whatever gossip she could muster. “Unless you saw something, of course.”
    I stared at her for a moment, but she shrugged. “No. Of course I didn’t.”
    She turned and retreated up the stairs, followed by the Brewsters. Mr. Dalton was last to go.
    “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone as you were coming in?” I asked him anxiously.
    “Uh…no. I heard some dogs barking, but my friend dropped me off at the street. Sorry. Well, I’m going to bed,” he said, and climbed the stairs.
    I stood for a moment, listening to the sirens as they got closer and dreading the approaching encounter.
    “Sorry about your ceiling,” a voice rang out from the breakfast room.
    “Goldie,” I said, whipping around and putting a hand to my chest. “Sorry, I forgot you were here. But then how could I? You just blew a hole in my breakfast room.”
    Goldie was dressed in a baggy hooded sweatshirt thrown over a long nightgown, with a pair of hiking boots peeking out from beneath. She was a good two inches shorter than me, which made the enormous shotgun in her hand look like a bazooka.
    “Psshaw,” she waved the bazooka in the air. I flinched backwards as the barrel rounded towards me. “I didn’t point it at anyone.”
    “Yes, but, my wall,” I said, pushing past her to look for holes in my walls.
    She followed me as I studied the walls, and then tapped me on the shoulder and pointed an index finger to the ceiling above Ahab’s cage. I rolled my eyes upwards and groaned. My hammered copper ceiling looked like Swiss cheese.
    “See? I was very careful, Julia,” she said. “Besides, that fella looked like he was about to kill you.”
    My hand reached for my throat. “I know,” I said, flinching at the tenderness. “I’ll be black and blue tomorrow.