Fogged Inn (A Maine Clambake Mystery Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

again. “Maybe he paid for the bus with a credit card.” He straightened up. “I’ve got to go. Someone else will be around with more questions,” he told the ladies. “Julia, where will you be?”
    “Mom’s, I guess.”
    “Stay and have tea with us,” Vee urged.
    I could tell they wanted to ask a lot of questions I either couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. “I’d love to, but maybe later.”
    I kissed Vee’s powdery cheek and Fee’s unmade-up one, and I slipped out the door behind Jamie.
    We stood on the Snuggles’ wide front porch, empty of furniture for the coming winter.
    “Maybe the ME will roll him over and his wallet will be in his back pocket,” Jamie said.
    “Maybe they’ll do an autopsy and find he had a heart attack,” I responded.
    “Maybe,” Jamie said.
    “Maybe.”
    Neither of us spoke with any conviction.
    * * *
    Jamie walked off in the direction of the back harbor and Gus’s. I crossed the street to my mother’s house and let myself in the unlocked back door.
    The kitchen of my childhood home was oddly comforting, even though the overcast day let in a gloomy glow and the room was chilly. My mom had recently taken a job at Linens and Pantries about a half an hour away in Topsham. On days when she was out of the house, she turned the heat down low. The job was a new thing for her, and in the beginning it had been a rough transition, but she’d stuck with it. She’d survived Black Friday and the rest of Thanksgiving weekend and was back at work today.
    I sat at the kitchen table with my coat still on, pulled my phone out of my bag, and called Chris. “Where are you?”
    “Parked outside Hannafords, waiting for Mrs. Deakins.” Instead of driving off and returning, he was saving gas by waiting for his fare in the supermarket parking lot. Also, that way he would be there to help her as soon as she came out of the building.
    “So that was crazy this morning,” I said.
    “I have a feeling it’s going to get a lot crazier when the medical examiner and the state police get here.”
    I grunted, acknowledging that was probably true.
    “So what did happen?” Chris asked. “What time did he arrive last night, do you remember?”
    “A little after seven thirty, I think.” That was what I remembered, but it didn’t jibe with what Fee had said about the stranger leaving the Snuggles at six. Gus’s was a five-minute walk from the inn. What had the man done from six to seven thirty? In nicer weather, he might have taken a stroll around the village, but last night had been dark, cold, foggy, and icy.
    “Who was in the dining room by then?” Chris did the cooking, and even though the food preparation area was open to the front room, his focus would be on the meals. Mine was supposed to be on the guests. So I wasn’t surprised he was relying on me to remember which customers had arrived when.
    “The Caswells were already there,” I answered. “They were the first ones. And the Bennetts were definitely there.”
    “The Bennetts. Which ones are they?”
    “You know, the Bennetts, Phil and Deborah.”
    “Sure.” He didn’t sound sure.
    I clarified. “He’s tall, full head of white hair, skinny arms and legs, but he has a gut. Acts kind of full of himself.”
    “You mean like he was something in the real world.” Living in a resort town, Chris had plenty of experience with entitled retirees.
    “Yes, like that,” I confirmed. “She’s the blonde with the . . .” Here I floundered a bit.
    Chris chuckled. “You’re making that face, aren’t you?”
    “What face?” I asked innocently.
    “The one where you pull the skin on your face back to your ears and breathe like a fish.” He was laughing now, and so was I.
    “You got me,” I admitted. “She’s the one with all the plastic surgery.” I cleared my throat. “It’s not nice to laugh at our guests.”
    “I’m not laughing at our guests. I’m laughing at you.”
    “It does feel a little mean,” I said. “Why