Killer Confections8 Delectable Mysteries(561)

“Your room, where sweet young Linda expired, is in the new wing. Grandma was never in there,” I reminded her. “And besides which, since you’ll be by yourself, you can watch TV all night.”

Susannah was cooperative after that.

Even by the time I got done with the few supper dishes, without Susannah’s help of course, virtually everyone else had retired to their rooms. Or so I thought. I nearly let out a scream when I came back from checking the front door and found Joel Teitlebaum crouching on the floor behind the check-in desk.

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked, when I finally had control of my vocal cords.

Joel stood up sheepishly. He held up a fistful of postcards. “I was looking at these, trying to pick out a couple to buy, when they all kind of just slipped out of my hand.”

I took a couple of deep breaths. “Well, you almost scared the life out of me. I thought everyone had gone to their rooms.”

Joel tucked most of the postcards back on the rack. “I’m off to bed myself, soon as I pay for these. It’s been a long day, even if it is early.”

“You were fond of Linda, weren’t you?” I wasn’t being nosy, just sympathetic in my own way.

“Yeah, Linda was okay,” said Joel. That’s one thing I like about young people today. They’re seldom maudlin.

“I’m sure you’ll miss her. I’ll bet you two were really close.”

Joel cleared his throat before speaking. “Miss Yoder, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy. It wasn’t me and Linda who were close, it was Linda and Billy Dee.”

“I see.” I should have seen earlier. How uncharacteristically stupid of me. After all, I had seen Billy Dee and Linda having a tete-a-tete over the quilting frame in the dining room, while Joel sat alone in the parlor munching sunflower seeds.

“Good night, Miss Yoder,” said Joel. He seemed more embarrassed now than he had a minute ago, when I’d discovered him on his hands and knees.

“Good night, Joel. And thanks for pitching in the other night with your famous broiled bananas. I hear they were the hit of the house. In fact, I was told they were the only thing that appealed to everybody.”

Joel blushed. “Yeah, well, I got the recipe from a West African roommate. They’re very easy to make. I’m just glad everybody liked them. I felt sorry for Mrs. Ream. Nobody ate her vegetable curry except for we three vegetarians. You’d have thought her own husband would have given it a try.”

“I heard it looked pretty bad,” I said in Billy Dee’s defense.

“Yeah, well, that’s still no excuse for being rude.”

I refrained from pointing out that Joel probably hadn’t touched Billy Dee’s venison stew, or the Congressman’s beans, which had been doctored up with bits of bacon. There is no point in trying to change someone else’s perspective, anyway. We all just see what we want to see. That goes double for the young. I decided to just ignore his comment.

“Say, Joel,” I said, “you wouldn’t be interested in playing a game of cards, would you?”

He looked at me in surprise.

“Oh, not with face cards,” I assured him quickly. “We Mennonites don’t use those. I’m thinking of Rook. I could see if Susannah wants to play, and we could use the kitty as the fourth hand.”

I was surprisingly un-tired, given the kind of day I’d had. I would have thought that having a second corpse show up in my inn would wear me to a frazzle, send me emotionally and physically escaping into the depths of dark, safe sleep. But not so. Maybe it was because I’d slept so late that morning, or maybe it was because I’m a psychological misfit, but I was still feeling as perky as all get out. Shamefully so. Maybe even high—not that I’m sure I know what that feels like.

Apparently Joel did not share my vim and vigor; either that or he simply had no interest in playing games with someone old enough to be his mother. He said he was feeling unusually tired and thought he might even be coming down with something.

We said good night again, and having nothing else to do, I went to my room, lay down on my bed, and began to read. I guess I should confess right now that I absolutely adore reading. I’m sure some people think that just because I live a simple lifestyle, I have a simple mind. If only they knew.

When I was in the third grade my teacher called Mama in and told her the school had determined that I had an I.Q. of 146 and they were recommending that I be promoted to the fifth grade. Mama refused to even consider such a thing. Having me skip a grade would lead to prideful and arrogant thoughts on my part, Mama told the teacher. I was never to know I was smarter than anyone else in my class. And then, just to make sure she counteracted anything my teacher might be doing on the sly, Mama established her own program of teaching me all the fine points of modesty and humility.