What did Tutti know? And how had she found out? More important, a man who had killed twice wouldn't shy away from killing again. Now that Tutti had revealed her hand, she was in danger.
Unless Tutti were protected, there'd be one less guest at that wedding, Quill thought, and it wouldn't be Alphonse Santini.
"Is the senator still in the dining room?"
"Yep."
"Doreen. You've got to get back to the H. O. W. meeting right away. I believe Tutti's in danger."
"Nah, Tutti said the murderer's dead. That no matter how long the sheriff - Myles, I mean - searches for him, he'll on'y find him in the next world."
"Or at her daughter's side at the church." Quill shook her head to clear it. "Doreen, you don't believe all this s‚ance hooey."
There was an all-too-recognizable glint in Doreen's beady black eyes. "Tell you the truth, I was feelin' kinda psychic myself, the longer that there sayance went on. Anyhow, Tutti's holding another one for the wimmin of H. O. W., to help us find out ways we can get these men off our backs and into their proper role, she says." Doreen took a deep breath. "You comin'?"
"Of course I'm coming! We don't want a third corpse in Hemlock Falls. What time is it?"
"Nine-thirty."
Two and half hours until Myles came. "You get down there right now. And stick to Tutti like glue, you hear me? Don't let Alphonse Santini come within a country mile of her."
"If you say so," Doreen said doubtfully.
"Is everyone as dressed up as you are?"
"Not them boobs in the S. O. A. P. meeting. Members of the organ'zation have the sense to dress with respect. So you get dressed with respect. I'll see you down there." She turned and marched out the door, mop slung over her shoulder. Tatiana poked her blunt little nose out from under the couch and eyed Quill with suspicion.
"Go on," Quill said encouragingly. "Go find Doreen."
Tatiana rolled her upper lip over her teeth and advanced sideways, like a mongoose stalking a cobra. Quill jumped up on the oak chest. "Beat it, Tatiana. Go hunt some ghosts. Better yet, go bite the senator."
The prospect of senatorial flesh between her jaws apparently appealed to Tatiana. She cocked her head, trotted off, and Quill climbed down from the chest. She was so tired she felt as though she were swimming through mud.
She pulled on a stretchy ankle-length velvet dress over her head, swept her hair into a knot, and slid on a pair of black sandals. "The well-dressed host," she muttered, spraying herself with musk perfume, "goes to meet her fate."
She heard the drone of Tutti's voice halfway down the hall. The conference room was only three years old, and John had designed it for several purposes. Wood panels on the walls opened up to reveal whiteboards and film screens. The long credenza on the south wall opened up into a serving bar. And the long mahogany table in the center of the room could hold more than twenty people in a pinch.
Quill knocked on the door and opened it in a single motion. The room was dark, except for a single lamp at the head of the table. It was a lava lamp in the shape of a globe, the viscous red liquid churning like the contents t of somebody's stomach. Tutti's round face hung over the lamp like a wrinkly white moon.
"Nnnnnnnnmmmmmmmm," she hummed.
"Nummmmmmmmmmm," responded the members of the Hemlock Organization of Women.
"Shut the damn door," somebody called out. Quill flipped on the light. Doreen sat at Tutti's left, Marge Schmidt at her right. Tatiana barked from the safety of Tutti's lap. Tutti herself blinked owlishly and smiled. She was dressed in a fuzzy angora sweater, a long plaid taffeta skirt, and an emerald necklace that weighed more than her dog.
"Sorry," said Quill. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Of course you are," Miriam Doncaster said testily. "What is it, Quill? We were just about to hear the truth about what goes on in that dratted men's group."
"I won't keep you. I have something to ask you guys. It's important, but short."
She walked to the head of the room. The women of Hemlock Falls looked back at her: Esther West, in a black chiffon cocktail dress with rhinestone earrings; Betty Hall in purple lam‚, a red bow in her hair; Marge in a size twenty-two Diane Freis after-dinner suit that cost more than Quill's automobile when it was new. Even Adela Henry looked vulnerable in the sudden flare of the overhead lights.
Quill felt a wave of affection so strong she blinked back tears.
"You okay, honey?" Nadine Wertmuller (Hemlock Hall of Beauty) snapped her gum in concern.
"Yep," Quill said a little huskily, "I'm just tired, that's all."
"PMS," said somebody. "Gets me like that, too."
"I want to ask your help." Quill tugged at a tendril j of hair. "Some of you were at the s‚ance this afternoon. By now, most of you have heard what went on. And I believe that Tutti's been given a warning."
There was a swell of excited comment, like wheat, rippling in the wind.
"Tutti was right - or rather, her - um - spirit guide was. The man who killed Nora Cahill and Frank Dorset is connected with rabbits."
"Those bums at S. O. A. P.," yelled Nadine. "Torturing animals in the woods!"
"Oh, no!" Quill flung her hands out. "The killings don't have anything to do with S. O. A. P. Sheriff McHale is very close to obtaining evidence that will convict this man."
"You find something in Syracuse?" asked Marge.
Quill made what she hoped was a noncommittal "hmm." Tutti regarded her with the set, unblinking gaze of her dog. "I found something that I think will be useful in bringing this person in. But until the case is wrapped up, I believe that Tutti is in real danger."
"Surely not!" Tutti protested.
Meg, dressed in jeans and a clean T-shirt (which meant that the kitchen was closed), appeared at the open door. She caught Quill's eye, wriggled her eyebrows, then folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. Quill straightened her shoulders and continued firmly, "I'm afraid so, Mrs. McIntosh. I know," Quill said, scanning the room, "that no one at this meeting is implicated in these murders. I saw the murderer myself."
Meg went, "Phuuut!"
Quill ignored her.
"Jeez," said Betty Hall. "You think you should announce it like that?"
"If we were weren't close to bringing him in, and if I didn't trust everyone in this room, I'd agree with you. As it is, I wonder if we could assign a guard for Tutti, just until Sheriff McHale gets back from this snow emergency. Would some of you volunteer to keep an eye on her at all times?"
"Of course we will," said Esther West. "My goodness, do you think she'll be attacked? Right here at the Inn?"
"It's possible."
Meg cleared her throat, rolled her eyes, and yawned.
"How long do we keep this watch?" asked Miriam.
"Midnight," said Quill, with a sangfroid unimpeded by Meg's giggle. "There's something else. Marge and Betty, how did the search go today?"
"Quill?" Adela Henry rose to her full thin, elegant height. "If there is to be a disclosure of the activities of the investigatory subcommittee, perhaps I should chair this meeting."
"Well, sure," said Quill.
"What subcommittee?" Miriam demanded.
"H. O. W. shall solve," Adela said grandly, "the murders of Nora Cahill and that disgusting Frank Dorset," Her eyes flickered. "And then we shall seek to replace the lamentable town government with a mayor of quality. A town justice of integrity, a sheriff of - "
"Be quiet, Adela," said Miriam. "What's going on here, Marge?"
"Quill, Meg, Betty, and me have been looking for that down coat of Quill's. It's what the guy wore when he stabbed Nora and Frank Dorset."
"And I've been looking for the videotape from that there hidden camera that shows him doin' it," said Betty. "I checked each one of the fireplaces in the Inn today, Quill, and I didn't find a thing."
"So that's why you dragged Esther and me allover the bottom of the Gorge today, Marge Schmidt," said Miriam. "I'd like to have died from the cold, too. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm tellin' you now, or Quill is. What's next, Quill?"
"First, who wants to guard Tutti?"
"My goodness," said Tutti, her cheeks pink. "And to think the spirit guides led us to this, Tatiana!"
"We want the big ones, like me," said Marge with satisfaction. "That means you, Shirley Peterson, and you, Trish Pasquale. We'll stick to you like debentures in a bear market, Tutti."
"And the rest of you have to turn this Inn inside out," said Quill, "discreetly. And you should work in pairs, for protection."
"What are we looking for?" asked Betty.
"A videotape that's mini-sized, you know, about half the size of the ones you rent from the video store. It's the tape of Nora's murder. And a hat."
"A hat? What kind of hat?" said Esther.
"My rabbit hat."
"You mean that horrible old thing with the earflaps you wore all winter last year?" asked Esther.
"The murderer disguised himself in it," said Quill.
"Disguise?" somebody muttered. "Heck, you show up in that thing at a school picnic and half the little kids would fall over from fright."
"I always thought the hat was one of the reasons the sheriff dumped her," said somebody else.
Quill maintained her aplomb. "Just two caveats ladies. Don't be so obvious that the other guests suspect anything. And if you do find the hat or the videotape, don't pick either one up. One of you guard it, the other one should come and find me. Or the sheriff."
"Well, I'm ready," said Miriam. "Esther, you come with me. We'll start right away."
"What about the guest rooms?" asked Doreen. "You want I should get out the master key?"
"There's only one room I need to search," said Quill. "And I should be the one to take the risk."
Meg started to whistle the theme from The Bridge Over the River Kwai.
"Tutti," said Marge. "How'd you feel about a game of bridge?"
"Fifty cents a point? We'd love it. Wouldn't we, Tatiana?" The dog gave her a skeptical glance, hopped off her lap, and followed Doreen and the other H. O. W. members out the door. Tutti pulled a deck of cards from her capacious handbag and shuffled them expertly. Quill strode toward the hall. She felt great.
"Colonel!" Meg snapped to attention and saluted.
"Cut it out, Meg."
"You're right. I should be addressing you as Inspector Alleyn. He always gathered the suspects in the drawing room and exposed the murderer. Nope. Sorry. Wrong again. It's Holmes himself and the Baker Street Irregulars."
"Why are you bugging me, Meg? I've had a tough day. And you didn't tell me what went on at that s‚ance."
"You didn't give me a chance to tell you about the s‚ance!"
"Tutti's clearly in danger, and you didn't do a thing about it."
"I most certainly did," Meg said indignantly. "Why the heck do you think she was in the kitchen with me all day? I mean she's a sweetie, quill, and I learned a great new recipe for homemade pasta, but this is one of the busiest days of the whole darn year!"
"Oh," Quill said.
"I mean, really. How irresponsible do you think I am? You never look at anybody the way they really are, Quill. You look at them the way you think they should be."
"I do?"
"Yes, you do. You make up your mind first and then you decide what's happening. Have you ever known me to boot an important clue like the one Tutti rolled out this afternoon?"
"No, Meg."
"And don't we usually solve these cases together?"
"Yes, Meg."
"So how come you came in all hissy this afternoon and picked a fight with me?"
"Because I was scared out of my mind!"
"Then why didn't you tell me? Honestly, Quill, it does nobody any good if you keep your emotions buttoned up. It doesn't do any good with me, that's for sure. And look what happened with that lunch with Myles. You were so busy keeping a stiff upper lip that you didn't even talk to each other. And look what almost happened. If Myles hadn't taken the risk to come back... restraint is all very well, Quillie. But not when it screws up your emotional life."
Quill stared at her. "You really think so?"
"I really think... what the devil is that noise?"
"The bachelor party, I suppose. Meg, I was scared out of my mind, but only partly from being almost run off the road."
"Somebody really did? Quill!"
"Soembody really did. But that's not what's bothering me."
"My Lord, Quill. Did you report this man? Are you hurt? It's a good thing you have that big heavy car."
"I'm pretty sure that the truck's at Bernie's and Joseph Greenwald is in the hospital. Do you think you could call Andy and verify that he's going to be in overnight?"
"Joseph Greenwald?" said Meg.
"'There's a funny look on your face."
"He showed up here right after you left for Syracuse. Good-looking guy? Looks like a Philadelphia lawyer?"
"He showed up here?"
"Tried to check in, but of course there wasn't any room. So I sent him on to the Marriott."
"Well, I'll be dipped, as Nora Cahill once said."
"That's not the reason you should be dipped. The reason you should be dipped is that he's an attorney. And he asked for Alphonse Santini at the desk."
"Wow. Meg, I think we should interrupt that bridge game."
"I think you're - Quill. If that's the bachelor party I hear, it's getting really out of hand. We'd better check that out first. It sounds like a riot."
Quill had heard sounds like that before: whoops, yells, screams of laughter, cheers, the thump of running feet. "Pamplona, Meg. The summer I spent in Madrid? With the foreign exchange group?"
The thrumming of running feet drew nearer and shook the walls of the solid old building. Marge burst from the conference room. Tutti, with a perplexed expression, trotted after her, her bridge cards in her hand. Her two other guards peered over Marge's shoulder.
"What'n the hell?" asked Marge.
The door at the end of the east end of the hall led to the Tavern Lounge. It shuddered, rattled, and for a moment seemed to bow outward from a massive weight on the other side. It burst open, to reveal Mayor Henry, naked but for a loincloth, with red stripes on his cheeks and his forehead painted stark white, dragging Claire's bridesmaid by the hand.
"Meredith!" called Quill. `Are you all right?"
"Let go, you geezer!" Meredith said irritably.
"Lances UP!" shouted the mayor.
"Lances UP! Came a male chorus in response.
"Lances UP, UP, UP!" yelled Evan Blight.
The members of S. O. A. P. stampeded through the hall like maddened buffalo. Most of them dragged a person of the opposite sex by the handiest protuberance: an arm here, a collar there, three or four by the hair, for those participants of H. O. W. and the bridal party whose hair was long enough for the S. O. A. P. snatch-and-grab technique. One of Harland Peterson's Norwegian cousins - a blacksmith notable for the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his back - carried Esther West over his shoulder. She looked thoughtful. Her screams were perfunctory.