Reservations for Murder by Tim Myers

remember, sometimes it helps to have a friend
nearby.”
    Before he could reply, she was gone. How had
Sandra already picked up on the fact that Elise was gone? That’s
when he remembered that Betsy Jenkins, the town’s only travel
agent, was Sandra’s secretary’s sister-in-law. There was no doubt
in Alex’s mind that as soon as the ticket had been ordered, a
follow-up telephone call went out. That was just great. Soon
everyone in town would think she’d abandoned him.
    Elise’s absence was going to be a hardship,
there was no doubt about that. Alex wasn’t sure how in the world he
was going to run Hatteras West single-handedly and solve Jefferson
Lee’s murder at the same time, but he was going to give it
everything he had.
    He had given Shantara his word.

Chapter 8

    By the time Sheriff Armstrong showed up, Alex
was nearly finished folding another load of towels fresh from the
dryer. Elise had taken care of cleaning the rooms before she’d
gone, but he still had a great deal to do if he was going to keep
his guests happy.
    “You have a second?” the sheriff asked. His
tone was the nicest it had been in days.
    Alex finished folding the last towel.
“Absolutely. I heard you released Bill Yadkin.”
    Armstrong said, “Let’s just say I’m looking
at all my options before I jump one way or another. I don’t want to
do anything official until I’m ready.”
    “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
    “Do you mind if I use your office again? I
want to talk to that pottery couple, the woodworking lady and the
weaver, too. I never had a chance to get to them earlier.”
    Alex nodded. “Sure, you know you’re welcome
to it. Is there any chance I can sit in on the interviews?” he
asked casually.
    “Normally I’d be okay with that. Alex, but
I’d rather do this in private, if you don’t mind.”
    “I understand.” Alex said, trying to hide his
disappointment. He would rather have been included in the
interviews, but he’d been present before only by Sheriff
Armstrong’s grace, and it looked like he’d used up his share of it,
at least for the moment.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll track you down before I go
and let you know what happened.” Armstrong said as he walked out
the door.
    Alex made sure he had plenty to do in the
main lobby the rest of the day. He wasn’t spying: there truly was
dusting and sweeping to do, but he did want to be close when the
suspects left. If he was really lucky, he might even overhear
something. At this point, anything would help.
    Evans was in his chair as Alex worked,
watching the world pass him by outside the inn’s windows.
    “Young man, I envy you,” Evans said as Alex
dusted off a collection of lanterns his grandfather had amassed.
They were displayed prominently in one corner of the lobby on a
stand Alex’s father had built just for them.
    “Grab a rag, Evans, there’s plenty of dusting
for everyone,” Alex said, smiling.
    The older man chuckled. “I don’t mean I envy
your daily tasks, I’m referring more to this life you lead.
Interesting people traipse in and out of your life on a daily
basis, and you have a beautiful home to live in with a wondrous
lighthouse next door. You’ve truly got it all, young man.”
    Alex refrained from adding the realities of
being an innkeeper: blocked toilets at two in the morning, guests
who believed if it wasn’t nailed down it was free for the taking,
and all of the bone-wearying, mind-numbing work that had to be
started fresh each and every day. In spite of it, not because of
it, Alex loved Hatteras West, but he was also very aware of the
tremendous amount of work involved in keeping it afloat. The fact
that Evans Graile, a guest, sat enjoying the beautiful day while
Alex, the innkeeper, worked steadily away punctuated the point more
than anything he could ever say.
    “It’s a good life, Evans,” he agreed, meaning
it deep in his heart.
    Alex heard raised voices coming from his
office, so he moved to the front desk a