Page 81 of Dead & Breakfast
Nora scoffed. “Of course you’re here.”
“And I heard everything.” Quinn stepped into the open and put her hands on her hips. “Idon’twant to be mayor, and I resent the implication that I would do something so horrible just to get ahead.”
“Oh, so you’ve suddenly grown a conscience, is that it?” Nora stood and mimicked Quinn’s pose. “I don’t remember you having such qualms about getting ahead when we were kids.”
Arthur rose to his feet as well, casting his gaze about for others. He felt so precarious here, and not just because of the rickety bench. The sheriff might have followed Quinn. He might have followed Nora, for that matter.
“How did you find us?” Arthur asked.
“I forgot my purse at the inn so I had to go back for it and…I got a little nosy, I guess.” Quinn shrugged. “You know, when you leave a voicemail on one of those machines and someone picks up partway through, it still records the whole conversation.”
“So, what’s the plan? Kill us here without any witnesses?” Arthur knew he was reaching, but he couldn’t help it. Without Salvatore beside him, he felt like a rogue hot-air balloon—loose on the wind with no real navigational tools.
“No, that would be stupid, right?” Quinn asked, brow furrowed. “If I was actually the murderer—which I’m not—it would be a lot harder to frame you if I killed you, too. Also, wouldn’t I want an audience for that sort of thing? Then I could claim to be protecting the town all heroically or something.”
Arthur took a step back. “For someone who claims not to be a killer, you’ve put a lot of thought into this…”
Quinn shook her head. “Sorry. I had a murder podcast phase.”
Arthur exchanged a look with Nora, hoping he could convey the seriousness of the situation through his gaze alone. He didn’t know what a podcast was, but it sounded dangerous.
“Oh, no, Arthur, it’s okay,” Nora said. “Podcasts are just like radio, but on demand. She’s saying she used to listen to a lot of true crime audio stories.”
“Sounds like the sort of thing a murderer might do,” Arthur hedged, but even he had to admit his evidence was shaky at best.
“Yeah, or like half of all millennial women in the 2010s,” Quinn muttered.
“These radio shows don’t explain your behavior at brunch this morning,” Arthur pressed. “You were upset when you learned Brody hadn’t been the one to break into your office Thursday night.”
Quinn looked at her shoes—which gleamed a shiny, scuff-free black despite how she’d just popped out of the woods—and spoke, her voice subdued. “First thing Friday morning I called Trip Young to tell him his son had trespassed at city hall. I told him I didn’t want to go to the police about it, but I know Brody got in trouble. Half the town saw Dr.Young yelling at Brody that afternoon. But he was still out tagging when he got attacked. If I’d gone to the sheriff, or if I hadn’t told Dr.Young, maybe Brody wouldn’t have been there, acting out.” She shook her head slowly. “He had nothing to do with the break-in. I accused an innocent teenager of a crime, and now he—”
Her words cut off, hanging in the air among them.
“You’re not responsible for what happened to Brody Young,” Arthur said softly. “Assuming you didn’t attack him.”
“I didn’t hurt anyone.” Quinn looked up, squaring her shoulders. “Anyway, if anyone here is guilty, it’s Nora.”
“Me?” Nora exclaimed, pointing to herself. “Seriously, Quinn? You think I’m a killer?”
“You certainly were mercenary enough when you left. Didn’t even say goodbye, did you? Maybe you’re the one who wants to be mayor badly enough to kill for it.” Quinn crossed her arms and stared daggers at Nora. “Besides, you were there at the inn the night he died. Who’s to say the two of you didn’t conspire?”
“Let me get this straight,” Arthur said, leaving a painful pause for an absent Sal to crack a joke about heterosexuality. “We’re all suspicious, we all don’t have alibis, and now we’re all here accusing each other while the real killer is sitting pretty, probably laughing at us somewhere.”
Quinn and Nora didn’t tear their eyes off each other, each glaring furiously.
“Might it behoove us to stop trying to scapegoat one another and instead put our heads together?” Arthur asked hesitantly.
“I wouldn’t work with her if you paid me,” Quinn grumbled.
“They literallyarepaying you!” Nora threw her hands up. “We both want what’s best for this town, right? Why can’t we just set our differences aside and be professional? I don’t know what else I can do, Quinn.”
“You could say you’re sorry,” Arthur said so quietly he almost didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until both Nora and Quinn were staring at him. “Well…you could. It sounds to me like Quinn doesn’t trust you because of how you left. Is that right?”
“I mean…yeah…” Quinn said.
Nora threw down her hands. “Of courseI’m sorry,” she said. “Obviously.”
“Not obviously.” Quinn set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “You never said it.”
