by Vicki Delany
“Another day in which we’ve almost run out of liquor,” Rosemary said. “Another rush order on Monday.”
Velvet snored lightly. Jim stood up. “I’ll tell you about it on the way back to the hotel. We need to let these people get to bed.”
Rosemary looked at me. “Everything okay, Elizabeth?”
“It is now,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Come, Winston,” Aunt Tatiana said. The dog stretched every fiber in his pudgy body before ponderously getting to his feet.
“He deserves a special treat,” I said. “If Winston hadn’t arrived when he did and frightened Monahan, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“We’d all be in jail, most likely,” Randy said.
“Velvet should spend the night here,” I said. “We need to keep an eye on her. She can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch.”
Randy stood up and swept the sleeping woman into his arms. His eyes opened wide and he grunted softly, saying, “Heavier than she looks.” I laughed and pointed the way to my bedroom. He laid her on my bed and rejoined us. I’d see that she was comfortably tucked in for the night. “I have to be heading back to New York City first thing in the morning,” Jim said to me in a low voice. “Stuff’s happening at the paper I can’t keep putting off, and my parents are arriving from Florida. We’ll be back when the cops release Uncle Harold’s remains. I’m hoping that won’t be too long. Can I . . . pop in and say hi?”
“You’re always welcome,” I said. “As are your parents. Let me know the date, and I’ll try to get you a room. One not in the old building, either.”
He smiled at me. I smiled back.
“Off you go, Randy,” I heard Olivia say. “Elizabeth and I will take care of Velvet.”
“I can stay. If you need—”
“We do not,” Olivia said firmly.
Jim hesitated. For some reason I was aware of Richard Kennelwood watching us.
“Anytime you need help solving a murder,” Jim said at last. “I’m your man.”
“Believe me,” I said. “That will not be necessary. Good night.”
They headed out into the night. Only Richard Kennelwood remained.
“I’ll get you some blankets,” Olivia said to me.
I walked with Richard to the door.
“Thanks for your help,” I said. “Your arrival was timely. Do you often go out for a late-night paddle?”
“When I can. The nights are so peaceful on the lake.” He stared into my eyes. “Elizabeth?”
I breathed. “Yes?”
“I didn’t simply happen to be passing. I was . . . I mean, I was on my way here. To Haggerman’s. To your house. I was hoping to talk you into coming for a turn around the lake with me. I should have called ahead, but the night was warm, and the moon was full, and I . . .”
“Oh,” I said.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Another time, maybe?”
I grinned back, my cheeks burning. “Yes, yes. I’d like that.”
“Elizabeth!” my mother called. “What on earth is your girdle doing in the cutlery drawer?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Developing a new series is a lot of fun, and this one was no exception. I’d particularly like to thank Kim Lionetti for working with me on the concept and the good people at Penguin Random House, particularly Miranda Hill, for loving the idea. Cheryl Freedman helped smooth out early drafts. Thanks to Rick Blechta, who plays in a big-band orchestra called the Advocats in Toronto, for helping with the music and dances.
If some of my knowledge of the places and scenery of the Catskills is off, you can blame the blasted pandemic for the fact that I haven’t been able to travel there to do the location research I might otherwise have done. Someday soon, I hope.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vicki Delany is the author of the Year-Round Christmas Mysteries, the Constable Molly Smith Mysteries, and, writing as Eva Gates, the Lighthouse Library Mysteries.
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