Read Online Plain Murder by Emma Miller - Free Book Online Page A

didn’t heed the caution signs on the steep curves.
    As Rachel reached her vehicle, Evan came out the door and walked over to her. “No luck?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. If he’s charged, will the court appoint counsel whether he wants it or not?”
    Evan shrugged. “I’m not sure how that works. Him not wanting an attorney, but not wanting to represent himself, either.”
    â€œI know he didn’t do it, but he thinks that it would indicate a lack of faith to accept an attorney. He’s certain God will protect him and prove his innocence.”
    â€œLet’s hope he’s right.”
    Â 
    Teatime at Stone Mill House was at three o’clock on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Rachel pulled into the driveway at five. If any of her guests had been expecting her to be present for tea, they had been disappointed.
    She’d left Ada in charge. Ada would have baked the scones, the miniature cheesecakes, and individual gingerbreads with a cherry on top. She would have made fresh coffee and hot tea and hand-squeezed lemonade. She would have closely supervised her kitchen assistant and grandniece Minnie. The sixteen-year-old’s duties included putting together chicken salad sandwiches and ham on tiny cheese biscuits. But neither of them would have opened the dining room and welcomed the guests in.
    Ada didn’t serve. Ada cooked and directed the housecleaning staff. She purchased groceries and sent her nephews to find the freshest fruits and vegetables and the finest country-cured hams for Stone Mill House. What Ada didn’t do was interact with the Englishers who came to stay at the B&B.
    Ada went home at four sharp, no exceptions. When Rachel walked into the dining room, with its deep windowsills and heavy walnut sideboard, she found sandwiches, fruit, and sweets on the table. A teapot and French press stood ready for hot water. No one had touched anything, which meant her guests hadn’t made it back to the inn. It happened often; guests certainly weren’t required to attend tea. But usually, on weekdays, she checked with everyone. In all the confusion of the day, she’d forgotten. She picked up a miniature biscuit-and-ham sandwich and took a bite.
    Grabbing a chicken salad triangle, Rachel pushed open the door to the hallway. The ham was delicious, and she was famished. She’d go back for another after she checked her answering machine. Then she’d start packing up the goodies. The sweets, fruit, and ham could be served the next day; she’d just have to eat the chicken salad. Or maybe take it over to Aunt Hannah’s tomorrow.
    â€œRachel? Is that you, dear?”
    â€œHulda?” She ate the chicken salad sandwich in two bites.
    The thin voice—that of her next-door neighbor Hulda Schenfeld—had come from the small parlor that Rachel used as an office.
    Rachel walked into the parlor, licking her fingertips.
    A smiling face, framed in white hair, peered up from a laptop on the desk. “Good, good. Glad it’s you and not a burglar sneaking around the house. I think I’ve done this right.” She pointed to the screen. “A wedding party. The mother of the bride called and said they would need seven doubles for the nights of the fourteenth through the sixteenth. Next month. Three nights. I told her that you would get back to her within the hour.”
    Rachel chuckled. “You’re taking calls for me?”
    â€œAnd who else? Certainly not your Ada or that silly little Minnie Stoltzfus. And the mother wants to know if there’s a discount, seeing as how they’re taking so many rooms. I told her there would be. I hope that’s all right.” She raised a sheet of paper. “I wrote her name and the phone number here. I’m not sure about these lap computers. I use a desktop. Six years old, but runs like a tomcat.”
    â€œSeven rooms?” Rachel shook her head.