Read Online A Touch of the Grape: A Hemlock Falls Mystery (Hemlock Falls Mystery series) by Claudia Bishop - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Claudia Bishop
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strain. She heard herself scream.
And she was in the hall, the body of Ellen Dunbarton at her feet.
"Move! Move! Move!" John, beside her, lifted the blackened lump with no effort at all.
"So where …" Quill gasped, "were those muscles when I needed.
"MOVE!" Ellen's body over his shoulder, John propelled Quill forward with one hand.
"The dog!" Quill said. "Where's the …?" Sharp teeth nipped at her hand. The dog bounced ahead to the landing, then scrambled first down the steps. Quill followed, John behind her, stumbling down the flight to the second floor, then to the first, and to the blessed welcome sight of the open door, and beyond that, the lawn crowded with people.
The air was cool, too cool. Quill shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself, and discovered she couldn't stop. In the distance, she heard the wail of the fire trucks. "Meg?" she shouted. "Meggie!"
"Right here." Meg's hair was standing up around her head. She was wearing her purple nightshirt. "Andy grabbed the guest register. He's counting everyone off. I don't think there's anyone left in there. Here. You've singed your hair. And you're shivering. Quill. I'll get you a blanket."
"I don't think it's spreading," John said. He faced the Inn calmly. "See? The fire's confined to the upper floor. I shut the door at the top of the stairs, so with any luck—Quill, no."
Quill knelt in front of the bundle at his feet. "Oh, my God," she said. "Oh, my God."
"Don't look," he said quietly.
"Where's Andy?"
"Right here. Quill." He emerged from the crowd of exclaiming, excited guests. Like John, his voice was calm and unruffled. "Everyone's out, unless you had some unregistered guests? No? Just the rats?"
"There aren't any rats," Quill said indignantly.
"Always are in a building this old." He knelt beside her, quick fingers light and capable. "Well," he said. "Well."
"Is she dead, Andrew?"
"Poor woman. I don't think … where the hell's the ambulance?" He rocked back on his heels. The drive way up the hill to the Inn was filled with the beams of darting headlights, goldfish in the black night's bowl. The oncoming sirens were raucous. Meg reappeared with a blanket, and Quill huddled gratefully into warmth. She wished she could stop shivering. John's arm went around her and she leaned against him.
"What in the name of all that's holy," he asked, "happened to the sprinkler system?"
"Turned off?" Quill said, bewildered, fifteen hours later. "How could the sprinkler system have been turned off?"
"Little valve in each of the rooms," the fire chief said in a helpful way. "Easy enough to turn it on, turn it off. You got a good system, I'll give you that. Could have been a lot worse than just the one room."
Meg sat at Quill's left, Doreen was on her right. She felt a bit like the captain in the Charge of the Light Brigade after the survivors left the valley. "I know how, Denny. I meant who. And why?" They were sitting at table seven in the dining room. The afternoon sun made burnished gold of the Falls. In the rose garden, the first buds of the rosa pastura were beginning to unfold in the soft spring air. The dog, who'd accepted a heavy meal of bacon, hamburger, and rice, lay outside next to the koi pound. He'd refused to come into the building when the food was offered, and had waited patiently for Quill to back away from the bowl before he'd plunged in. At this distance, it wasn't possible to see the singe marks or the matted coat, and he looked as if he belonged there. Quill watched this innocent and beautiful scene without really seeing it.
Denny the fire chief was a stocky man in his late forties, with grizzled hair and an amiable smile. He took a huge bite of chicken pâté and swallowed it with an appreciative grunt. "This here's the best liverwurst I ever tasted," he said. "The guys at the station want to thank Meg for the hamper. Me? I could eat it all day. This'll be my third serving since last night." He waved at the pile of fruit Meg had
And she was in the hall, the body of Ellen Dunbarton at her feet.
"Move! Move! Move!" John, beside her, lifted the blackened lump with no effort at all.
"So where …" Quill gasped, "were those muscles when I needed.
"MOVE!" Ellen's body over his shoulder, John propelled Quill forward with one hand.
"The dog!" Quill said. "Where's the …?" Sharp teeth nipped at her hand. The dog bounced ahead to the landing, then scrambled first down the steps. Quill followed, John behind her, stumbling down the flight to the second floor, then to the first, and to the blessed welcome sight of the open door, and beyond that, the lawn crowded with people.
The air was cool, too cool. Quill shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself, and discovered she couldn't stop. In the distance, she heard the wail of the fire trucks. "Meg?" she shouted. "Meggie!"
"Right here." Meg's hair was standing up around her head. She was wearing her purple nightshirt. "Andy grabbed the guest register. He's counting everyone off. I don't think there's anyone left in there. Here. You've singed your hair. And you're shivering. Quill. I'll get you a blanket."
"I don't think it's spreading," John said. He faced the Inn calmly. "See? The fire's confined to the upper floor. I shut the door at the top of the stairs, so with any luck—Quill, no."
Quill knelt in front of the bundle at his feet. "Oh, my God," she said. "Oh, my God."
"Don't look," he said quietly.
"Where's Andy?"
"Right here. Quill." He emerged from the crowd of exclaiming, excited guests. Like John, his voice was calm and unruffled. "Everyone's out, unless you had some unregistered guests? No? Just the rats?"
"There aren't any rats," Quill said indignantly.
"Always are in a building this old." He knelt beside her, quick fingers light and capable. "Well," he said. "Well."
"Is she dead, Andrew?"
"Poor woman. I don't think … where the hell's the ambulance?" He rocked back on his heels. The drive way up the hill to the Inn was filled with the beams of darting headlights, goldfish in the black night's bowl. The oncoming sirens were raucous. Meg reappeared with a blanket, and Quill huddled gratefully into warmth. She wished she could stop shivering. John's arm went around her and she leaned against him.
"What in the name of all that's holy," he asked, "happened to the sprinkler system?"
"Turned off?" Quill said, bewildered, fifteen hours later. "How could the sprinkler system have been turned off?"
"Little valve in each of the rooms," the fire chief said in a helpful way. "Easy enough to turn it on, turn it off. You got a good system, I'll give you that. Could have been a lot worse than just the one room."
Meg sat at Quill's left, Doreen was on her right. She felt a bit like the captain in the Charge of the Light Brigade after the survivors left the valley. "I know how, Denny. I meant who. And why?" They were sitting at table seven in the dining room. The afternoon sun made burnished gold of the Falls. In the rose garden, the first buds of the rosa pastura were beginning to unfold in the soft spring air. The dog, who'd accepted a heavy meal of bacon, hamburger, and rice, lay outside next to the koi pound. He'd refused to come into the building when the food was offered, and had waited patiently for Quill to back away from the bowl before he'd plunged in. At this distance, it wasn't possible to see the singe marks or the matted coat, and he looked as if he belonged there. Quill watched this innocent and beautiful scene without really seeing it.
Denny the fire chief was a stocky man in his late forties, with grizzled hair and an amiable smile. He took a huge bite of chicken pâté and swallowed it with an appreciative grunt. "This here's the best liverwurst I ever tasted," he said. "The guys at the station want to thank Meg for the hamper. Me? I could eat it all day. This'll be my third serving since last night." He waved at the pile of fruit Meg had
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