Read Online Fowl Prey by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online

to dinner!”
    â€œCoz…” Judith began, but was interrupted by the arrival of the white-coated medics who were crowded into the elevator.
    â€œAre you two guests of the hotel?” the senior policeman inquired stiffly.
    â€œYes,” answered Judith, elbowing Renie out of the way. “We’re in Suite 804. Right there.” She pointed to their door.
    The officer nodded curtly. “Let’s step inside where we can conduct this investigation in a more peaceful atmosphere.”
    The decision was made just in time. Not only were the medics busily at work on poor Bob-o, but the door to the stairway had opened, revealing several curious Clovia employees and at least a couple of guests. At the end of the hall, Max, Alabama, and Desiree gaped at the congregation of emergency personnel. Judith and Renie whisked inside their room with the policemen at their heels.
    â€œThe homicide detectives are on their way,” the officer announced, making a quick survey of the suite, “I’m Constable Guildford, and this is Patrolman Forbes.”
    The young Scot acknowledged the introduction by striking his fist against his leather belt. Judith offered seats which the policemen refused, while Renie commandeered the damask-covered armchair and looked sullen.
    â€œNames?” asked Constable Guildford as Forbes whipped out a notebook and Judith remained standing by the gas-lit fireplace. Spellings ascertained, the cousins were required to give their addresses.
    â€œAmericans,” Guildford said, as if that explained a great deal, at least about Renie. He glanced at Forbes. “We may have to check in with the RCMP.”
    â€œReally?” Renie’s demeanor changed dramatically. She shot forward in the chair and all but beamed. “You mean, just like in the movies?”
    Guildford’s long nose twitched as he regarded Renie coldly. “Not precisely. At least, not the way you imagine it, madame.” He took a deep breath and made an effort at civility. “Here in Port Royal, we call in the RCMP only under certain circumstances. One of these is when foreigners are involved. Since you are from the States andacquainted with the deceased, consultation may be necessary.”
    Renie’s smile faded. “Oh, we didn’t know Bob-o. I mean, not as a person. We just knew of him, if you get what I mean.”
    Constable Guildford exchanged a bleak glance with Patrolman Forbes. “I see. I think. You knew Bob-o as a vendor, correct?”
    Renie nodded. “Correct.”
    Forbes made a notation. Guildford resumed his routine questions: “You arrived in Canada when?”
    Renie was still giving the answers. “This morning. Just before noon, actually.”
    â€œHow long do you intend to stay?” inquired Guildford, his tone growing more pleasant with each satisfactory response.
    â€œUntil Wednesday.” Renie leaned back in the chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “We have to be back home by eight p.m.”
    â€œWednesday?” The constable lifted his dark eyebrows. “Day after tomorrow?” He saw Renie nod again. “Hmmm. That may not be possible. It will depend on the course of the investigation.”
    â€œWhat?” Both of Renie’s feet slammed onto the floor. Even Judith let out an astonished exclamation. “We have to leave!” protested Renie, yanking at the folds of her mauve skirt. “Thursday is Thanksgiving!”
    â€œ Your Thanksgiving,” said Guildford, as if Judith and Renie should take the blame for their country’s celebrating a month late.
    A knock at the door prevented further debate over national holidays. A bulky man in a classic trenchcoat entered the room, taking off a battered hat to reveal dark hair combed over his forehead. Despite his easygoing manner, he exuded a mournful air, as if his calling required him to remain in a perpetual state of grief. “Murder at the Clovia!”