Along the other wall stood the display cases full of cannoli, zeppole, panettone, and a whole host of other Italian delicacies I didn’t know the names of. The menu gave customers the option of ordering from Mr. Dobson’s hearty all-day breakfast (complete with Sugarwood maple syrup, I’d proudly told my mom) or Mrs. Dobson’s baked treats and specialty coffees. If you wanted a decent cup of coffee in Fair Haven, this was the only place to get it.
Mark and his mom waited for us at one of the round wrought-iron tables.
We’d barely managed introductions when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I peeked at the display.
The number was my house phone.
We’d left Mandy alone there with my dogs since she said she’d love their company while she spent the day reading the new mystery I recommended to her. Normally I wouldn’t have answered my phone when I was out with someone else, but I had visions of how much trouble I knew Velma could get in to in a mere fifteen minutes. Visions of my mom’s unmentionables ending up as chew toys flashed through my mind.
I held up the phone. “I have to take this real quick. It’s my other house guest.” I stepped away from the table and slid a finger across the screen. “Is everything okay?”
“I started reading the book you gave me,” Mandy said. “And the main character runs an inn. She lost bookings because she had to call police about a break-in.”
I cringed. I’d suggested the book because I thought Mandy would relate to the main character, but I’d forgotten the part about the lost bookings.
Mandy was still talking. “I got to worrying about how much more a murder would hurt my business, so I called in to the machine at The Sunburnt Arms. All three of the bookings I’d called to tell that I couldn’t give them the full nights they’d requested canceled their bookings.”
It was one of those times when there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to make her feel better other than listen. I couldn’t promise her she wouldn’t lose even more business over this. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re a lawyer. How long do police usually cordon off a scene?”
“It depends.” I could feel my mom’s gaze digging disapproving holes in my back at how long I’d already been away from the table. I rolled my shoulders, but the sensation wouldn’t ease. “They have to be thorough. Once they release the scene, anything they miss is inadmissible in court.”
Mandy huffed. “I do want them to catch whoever did this, even if it is my night clerk.”
“It shouldn’t be more than another couple of days.”
I couldn’t see Mandy nod, but I could imagine it.
I ended the call, turned off my ringer, and settled in at the table. Mark must have ordered for me, because the waitress had left a cappuccino at my place.
The glance Mark shot me said the end is near.
As soon as I tuned in to the conversation happening between his mom and mine, I knew why. They were already in the middle of a deep debate over the merits of small town versus big city living.
“Especially once they have children,” Mrs. Cavanaugh was saying. “A small town like Fair Haven is safer than living in a metropolis like DC or New York.”
A muscle at the corner of my mom’s eye twitched. Most people would never have seen it. I’d often wondered whether my mom was born with supernatural control over her expressions or whether she’d developed it over years working as a criminal defense attorney. That twitch meant she was about to drill a hole in Mrs. Cavanaugh’s argument large enough to allow a snow plow through.
My mom gave her coffee cup a single stir. “Nicole only had one person try to kill her back in DC. She’s had four people attempt it here. That seems less safe to me.”
Mrs. Cavanaugh jerked in her seat like my mom had stabbed her hand with a fork.
I sucked in air along with my ill-timed swig of cappuccino, and liquid rushed down the wrong way. Hard coughs shook my chest.
This was bad. Mark and I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about how many times I’d nearly died since coming to Fair Haven.
My mom pursed her lips at me as if I’d swallowed my coffee on purpose, and Mrs. Cavanaugh swiveled in her seat to face Mark.
She gave him a wait-until-your-father-hears-about-this glare. “Four times? You told me the poisoning by Shawn White was the only time.”
If my lungs weren’t burning and my mom wasn’t watching and I wasn’t afraid that look would turn on me next, it might have been funny to see her looking at her thirty-six-year-old son that way.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. Now was not the time to draw even more attention to myself.
Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I didn’t actually say that. You assumed and I didn’t clarify.”
The phone in my pocket stopped, then vibrated again. Clearly whoever was calling me wasn’t going to give up until I answered.
I rose to my feet and made a vague motion that I hoped implied I was going to the counter to ask for a glass of water to help with my coughing fit. I headed in that direction and slid my phone from my pocket as it shimmied again.
“Hello?”
“So I’m sitting outside The Sunburnt Arms,” Mandy said.
A hand tapped my shoulder. “Excuse me?” a vaguely familiar man’s voice said.
I asked Mandy to wait a second and turned around. Tim, one of Mandy’s other staff members, stood behind me. I knew his shift normally covered the weekends, but obviously, he couldn’t work with The Sunburnt Arms closed down.
He’d been the unfortunate one I lured away from the front desk when I needed to…borrow the guest register while investigating my Uncle Stan’s murder. Hopefully he didn’t remember that incident.
He smiled as if he only peripherally recognized me and pointed at the paper napkin holder on the counter behind me. I moved out of his way, but waited until he went back to the table he shared with another man about his age before moving my cell back to my ear.
“Have they released the scene already?” I asked.
Mandy made a negative mmm-umm sound. “I just thought I should come keep an eye on things from a distance.”
Geez. It’s like she was trying to get herself arrested on some charge related to this case. “You probably shouldn’t be there.”
