A Clue in the Stew (A Soup Lover's Mystery) by Connie Archer

didn’t really have a chance to talk to her. She’s well protected by her son and assistant and all.”
    “Come on in the kitchen and we’ll put all this on a tray. I was hoping to get there tonight but I was just too busy,” Barbara said, leading the way to the rear of the home. “And keep track of all this so I can compensate you.”
    Lucky pulled a stool up to the island and watched Barbara unpack the bin. “I packed two different half sandwiches and two soups. The soups should still be warm.”
    “I’ll give ’em a blast in the microwave and have Ginny bring them up to her room. Oh!” Barbara exclaimed. “Wait. She’s clearing the dining room.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Lucky said. “I’ll take the tray up to her. I can explain what I’m bringing her better anyway.”
    “You don’t mind?” Barbara asked.
    “No. Not at all. And then I’m heading home and soaking in a nice hot tub full of bubbles. It’s been a day and a half.”
    Barbara laughed ruefully. “Same here. Most of our guests are no trouble at all, but I’ll tell you, running a bed-and-breakfast is more work than even I could have imagined. I’d be lost without Ginny though. I don’t know what I did before she came.”
    Lucky wondered what Barbara was leaving unsaid. “And your second-floor lot?”
    Barbara took a deep breath. She placed two piping hot bowls of soup on a large tray and laid the sandwiches in a cloth-covered wicker basket. Barbara shrugged her shoulders. “Well, the assistant, Phoebe, is the only one who’s within normal limits, but that publicist from New York . . .” Barbara leaned over the island. “And the daughter-in-law . . .”
    “Sylvia?”
    “That’s the one. What a nightmare she is. Frankly, I don’t know how her husband puts up with her. And him . . . the poor thing, I think his mother had his you-know-whats removed at birth.”
    Lucky laughed in spite of herself. “That’s rather the impression I had as well.”
    “Here you go,” Barbara said, passing the tray to Lucky. “The Queen Bee is in the second room on the left.”
    Lucky nodded and climbed the stairs, carefully balancing the heavy tray. She placed it on a hallway table and knocked on the door.
    “Come in,” a voice said.
    Lucky turned the knob. The door swung open as she picked up the tray. “Good evening,” she said as she entered. “I’ve brought you two different soups and half sandwiches. I hope you like them. We have a fabulous chef at the By the Spoonful.”
    “Oh.” The handsome silver-haired woman looked up from her dressing table. Without makeup, her age was more apparent and the lines around her eyes were obvious. Her sparkling necklace and earrings were strewn across the mirrored top of the vanity. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to bring it over to me. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the book signing was over.”
    Lucky thought her a very courteous woman, but something just under the surface promised a psyche of steel.
A very strong-willed woman
, Lucky mused,
in spite of her gracious manner.
    A gentle tap came on the slightly open door. Derek Stone peeked into his mother’s bedroom. “Mother? Are you all right?” He stepped into the room and froze when he saw Lucky. “What are
you
doing here?” he demanded.
    Lucky opened her mouth to respond, but before she could reply, Hilary Stone cut in, “Don’t be an idiot, Derek. I asked for her. Now go back to your room and keep that wife of yours under control . . . if you can,” she replied icily.
    Derek’s soft face blushed a bright red and he turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
    “Please excuse my son. He tries to control every aspect of my life. I’d never travel with him, but I do need his help occasionally, as unpleasant as the whole experience is,” Hilary said dismissively.
    Lucky could think of no appropriate response to make. It always amazed her when strangers aired their dirty family linen.