Page 11 of Dead & Breakfast
“I’m not married.” Nora’s brow furrowed, as though she was trying to ascertain if she should be offended. Arthur rather thought, yes, she should.
“Oh, sorry.” But McMartin didn’t sound in the least bit apologetic. “Your boyfriend, then?”
“I’m staying here alone.” Nora crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I checked in around five, then I attended the wine and cheese night. I texted the mayor an invitation to join us. But he never came, despite saying he would.”
Arthur scribbled her response in his notebook and shot an appraising look at the sheriff. McMartin wasn’t writing anything down. Everygooddetective kept notes.
“How many other guests do you have?” McMartin sounded almost surprised at his own question, as if he couldn’t believe he’d thought to ask.
“None.” It was difficult to admit, especially without qualifying excuses. But those weren’t facts, and the sheriff would want only relevant information. “Though Quinn Clark attended our evening entertainment for a few hours.”
“We didn’t see the mayor here at all,” Salvatore added.
“That’s right—my husband and I were inside all night,” Arthur said.
But that wasn’t true. Salvatore had gone to the dentist.
Arthur glanced at Salvatore, searching his eyes, but there was nothing there save for the usual sparkle of intelligence oft ignored and the good—if no longer beating—heart Arthur had fallen in love with. Sal wouldn’t have hurt the mayor, surely.
There was no reason to hide anything from the sheriff if they were innocent, and they decidedly were, so Arthur continued. “Except Salvatore had a dentist appointment with Dr.Young at seven thirty, but he was back before nine thirty.”
“I’ll be checking that timing with the dentist.”
Arthur bit his lip. The appointment should have only lasted an hour, and even traveling by tandem bike, it shouldn’t have taken Salvatore so long to return. It was unlikely there would be witnesses to account for the full two hours, so Arthur simply had to hope the mayor’s time of death wouldn’t match up with Salvatore’s excursion. Then again, perhaps the sheriff wouldn’t put two and two together. He wasn’t overly bright, except for his luminescent platinum hair. Perhaps the frosted tips glowed in the dark.
“Did you notice anyone in the garden when you came back?” Arthur asked instead, hoping to steer the conversation away from the more delicate areas.
“No one, darling. You know I would’ve said something.”
“We were awake all night,” Arthur continued. “But I didn’t hear anything strange, and no one knocked on the door—”
“All night?” McMartin’s expression shuttered. “Are you two, um…” He seemed to struggle to find a polite word.
“Vampires?” Arthur supplied. “Yes.”
McMartin’s face clouded. “Well, you should’ve led with that.”
“We’re also terribly queer. Did you want to ask us questions about that, too?” Salvatore sneered, his fangs sneaking out from beneath his upper lip.
“Why does it matter?” Nora snapped.
“Calm down, honey.” McMartin raised both palms and lowered them slowly, as if he could control her emotions with the gesture.
Arthur glanced at Nora just in time to see the moment her restraint snapped. Even the stray cat—Rumble; he might as well get used to the name—took a step back before she exploded.
“Excuse me,Sheriff. You might want to consider being a little more respectful to the people you’re supposed to work for.”
“This again.” McMartin rolled his eyes. “I’m an elected official, yeah, but the public doesn’t sign my checks, the city manager does, or he did, until he took that job in Bend—”
“What a coincidence.” Nora’s lips twitched into a triumphant smile. “I’m the new city manager. Lovely to meet you.” She held out her hand and set her shoulders in a stance that conveyed exactly how lovely she thought it was. “And as far as I’m concerned, you work for everyone in this town, whether they can vote or not.”
Sheriff McMartin deflated as he shook her hand. “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t realize who you were. Could’ve mentioned it on the phone,” he added in a low grumble.
“I thought reporting the dead body was more pressing,” Nora replied, as if he’d challenged her at full volume.
“It won’t happen again,” McMartin said, suitably chastised. He glanced at Arthur and Salvatore. “Don’t know why you’d get mixed up with these types.”
“The Iris Inn has the best lodgings in town,” Nora replied, voice icy. “The mayor said so himself.”
