Read Online Legs Benedict by Mary Daheim - Free Book Online

that. You can have the gun back when you leave. It’s perfectly legal to own a gun in this state.”
    â€œBut it’s not my gun.” A thin smile played at John Smith’s mouth. “Keep it. Or sell it. It’s nothing to me.” He gestured to Darlene, who wore a bored expression. “By the way, why was the bathroom door locked in our room?”
    â€œOh!” Judith was embarrassed. “I forgot to tell you. Mr. Schwartz’s mother is elderly and requires privacy. There’s another bathroom just outside your door in the hall. I’m so sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I promised Mrs. Schwartz she could have the connecting bathroom to herself.”
    â€œNot anymore,” John Smith smirked. “Before we went out, I picked the lock. Come on, Darl, let’s head for bed. We can have a nightcap up there.”
    Judith winced. Guests weren’t officially permitted to bring liquor into the B&B, but the rule was virtually unenforceable. Given the gun issue and her own oversight about the bathroom, she let the infraction slide.
    â€œSure, why not?” Darlene rose from the chair, shaking out her copper curls. “G’night, all.” Judith caught a whiffof jasmine as the young woman wriggled her way out of the parlor.
    â€œWell?” sighed Judith. “What do you think?”
    Joe turned out the Tiffany dragonfly lamp that sat on the small table between the wingback chairs. “I think John Smith is one slippery character who’s not above picking locks and lying about guns. Unless…Who stayed in that room Sunday night?”
    â€œThe Coopers, from South Dakota,” Judith replied. “They’re in their eighties. Anyway, Phyliss goes through the drawers and everything else after guests check out, just in case they’ve forgotten something.”
    Always the gentleman, Joe stepped aside to let Judith precede him from the parlor. “Then Smith’s definitely lying. I thought so all along. But I don’t see what we can do about it.”
    â€œNo,” Judith said, then suddenly remembered the note in her pocket. “Drat. I found a slip of paper under the piano. I should have asked the guests about it. Maybe I’ll just pin it on the message board by the registration book.” She went to the little desk and used a pushpin to attach the note to the small piece of corkboard framed with Victorian hearts and flowers. The names—“Legs-Hoffa-Provenzano”—boldly stared out at her, and set her spine a-tingle. Hastily, she removed the note and put it in the pocket of her slacks.
    â€œWhat did the note say?” Joe asked, waiting by the gateleg table in the living room.
    Damping down the inexplicable spurt of alarm, Judith lifted one shoulder as they went into the living room. “It’s gibberish to me.” She reached behind the table. “I’m going to unplug the coffee urn and put the cake away. There’s no reason to stay up for Mr. du Turque. He may have gone to some of the local jazz clubs.”
    â€œI’ll carry the urn,” Joe volunteered. “Jeez, there’s not much cake left.”
    â€œGood,” said Judith, scooping crumbs into her hand.“I’ll give the rest to Mother. By the way, you didn’t mention to the Smiths that you’re a cop.”
    â€œOf course not,” Joe replied, getting a grip on the urn. “They weren’t here when the rest of the guests found out. It might be a good thing if Mr. and Mrs. Smith don’t know. You said they aren’t mingling with the rest of this bunch.”
    â€œTrue,” Judith agreed, leading the way into the kitchen. Then, as she covered the cake with cellophane wrap, she turned to Joe. “Why wouldn’t John Smith admit having a gun? It’s not as if we’d fine him or report him. We’d just hang onto it until they checked out.”
    â€œGood question,” Joe said,