A Taste for Murder by Claudia Bishop

and replaced it in the cupboard.

"Yes!" said Meg. Her face reddened, always a sign of rising temper. Then her hair seemed to flatten, which indicated it had risen. Quill could never figure how she accomplished the trick with her hair. Meg retrieved the baking soda and sprinkled a bit more on the tomato.

"Why don't we suggest that they curb the spending, at least until we establish the cause of the accident?" said John.

"Okay, okay, okay." Quill lifted her hands in a gesture of defeat. "I'll do it."

"When?"

"In a bit. I've got to memorize that stupid speech for The Trial of Goody Martin. The dress rehearsal's this afternoon at the duck pond."

"No time like the present," said John. "They're waiting for you in two-fourteen. I said you'd be along to speak to them. Kathleen will bring their breakfast up."

Quill sighed. "Okay. Okay. I'm going. See this? It's Quill, going to do her duty."

Meg was singing "... when I am dead and gone, dear, sing no sad songs for me" to her omelette as Quill left the kitchen.

It was shaping up to be a hell of a week.

Two-fourteen and two-sixteen were two separate bedrooms connected by an interior door. Quill didn't particularly like the decor, having given way to a brief infatuation with grape-and-ivy chintz for the bedspreads and drapes.

Mrs. Hallenbeck opened the door to her knock, dressed in a red double-knit suit that screamed "designer." Quill's painter's eye recoiled from the clash with the purple and green.

"I very much dislike this room," said Mrs. Hallenbeck, by way of greeting.

"So do I," said Quill frankly. "You must have a nice sense of color, Mrs. Hallenbeck. Would you like to move to the rooms below? They're a little more soothing to the eye."

"Perhaps that would settle Mavis down," Mrs. Hallenbeck admitted.

"Coo-ee!" Mavis waved at her from the bed. Quill, momentarily speechless, didn't respond at first.

"Dr. Bishop's Valium samples seemed to have loosened Mavis' more obvious inhibitions," said Mrs. Hallenbeck dryly. Mavis' generous breasts spilled over the top of a lacy nightgown. Her makeup had been applied with a lavish hand. Her hair, released from its tight bun, spilled over her shoulders. Chewing gum with enthusiasm, she waved again, and said, "This is just so lovely!"

"Please sit down, Ms. Quilliam." Mrs. Hallenbeck sat stiffly, though with elegance, at the tea table fronting the windows. "I take it you have come to discuss a settlement with us. I am prepared to listen to any reasonable offer."

Quill sat in the chair opposite and took a deep breath. "Where's that breakfast?" caroled Mavis. "I swear, I could eat a hog whole."

Quill took a second deep breath. A double knock on the door acted as a brief reprieve. She opened it, took the tray from Kathleen Kiddermeister, and set it on the tea table. Mrs. Hallenbeck examined the tray with disdain. Mavis hauled her- self out of bed with a whoop, parked the wad of chewing gum on the bedpost, and settled herself at the table. She and Mrs. Hallenbeck had a brief, sharp discussion over who had ordered the grapefruit. Mrs. Hallenbeck won and took the blueberries mounded with whipped cream.

"Would you care for coffee?" asked Mrs. Hallenbeck, after a moment's more-or-less silent chewing. "It's quite decent. I discovered yesterday that one has to insist on the chef's private stock, or else you are served a brew that is quite ordinary."

Quill pinched her own knee hard. She was awake. She was part-owner of this Inn. She was in charge. She had to talk to the widows with the direct yet tactful charm that had never failed her, and convince the widows that costs should be kept down for all their sakes.

"It looks as though sulfuric acid was poured on the mortar around the balcony," she blurted. "The sheriff has sent samples off for tests to confirm it."

The widows stopped eating. Mavis looked at Mrs. Hallenbeck, her mouth open. Mrs. Hallenbeck looked out the window. Her mouth was firmly closed.

"Tests?" said Mrs. Hallenbeck.