Page 84 of The Woman Who Couldn't Scream
“I’m not refusing to serve him because of his age. He hangs around all the time, his bony old hands clutching that one cup—”
“Mr. Caldwell, are you not paying?” Kateri asked in her most scolding tone.
Mr. Caldwell put his hand on his chest. “Every day.”
“One cup,” Linda said. “He pays for one cup. And he wants endless refills!”
“Which is what the menu offers. As a customer, elderly or not, he has that right. Now, he’s asking for pie and ice cream. Is that a problem?” Kateri saw the moment when it clicked with Linda that she was overmatched.
The thin, snippy, perpetually irritated waitress marched to the pie case, pulled out the mixed berry pie, slid her spatula under the smallest slice, placed one tiny scoop of ice cream on the top and slammed it down in front of Mr. Caldwell.
Who said, “Thank you,” picked up his fork and burrowed right in.
Linda sneered and stormed away.
Mr. Caldwell told Kateri, “I’m digging blackberry seeds out from my dentures all night. But that was worth it. Thank you, Sheriff Kwinault.”
He was really piling on the respect for her title.
She liked that.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out, she looked and moaned.
“What is it?” Mr. Caldwell asked.
“The Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast. Where my sister is staying. This cannot be good.” She picked up.
Phoebe shrieked in her ear, “Would you come immediately and arrest your sister for refusing to leave the great room so I can set up for the evening’s social hour?”
“I… don’t think that’s illegal.” Kateri made her eyes wide and appealing, and stared at Mr. Caldwell.
He chortled and kept eating.
Phoebe shouted, “She’s disrupting the schedule!”
Kateri took a breath to explain why the sheriff couldn’t answer a call like this—and collapsed in defeat. “I’ll come over and see what I can do. Yes. Right away.” She hung up, and asked Mr. Caldwell, “Anything else?”
“I’m going to give you some advice, young lady.”
“I’m listening.”
“Kipling said, ‘The female of the species is more deadly than the male.’” He nodded toward Linda. “If I were you, I wouldn’t turn my back on that woman. Or accept food from her. Or coffee. Or cross the street in front of her.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Stepping behind the counter, she picked up the tray of sandwiches. “However—I’m female, too.”
“So you are, my dear.” Mr. Caldwell was still grinning. “So you are.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Merida had spent almost ten years in an environment controlled by a despotic man who demanded the kind of peace and quiet one might experience in a sepulchre. To stand in the entry of the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast and listen to Phoebe shout, “No, that is not your private sitting room, Miss Palmer, and you may not forbid our entry so you can enjoy your privacy!” made Merida hug herself with glee.
To hear Lilith reply, “My room has not yet been cleaned and the evening is approaching, so where else would I enjoy my privacy?” brought a silent chuckle.
Phoebe took a shuddering breath. “I told you. Susie didn’t show up for work today. I’m working as quickly as I can, but I work from the most expensive room down and your room is at the bottom of the list.”
“Whose fault is that? I required the most expensive room when I registered.” As Lilith spoke, her voice got more and more superior and contrasted strongly with Phoebe’s high-pitched indignation.
“You should have called sooner. Months sooner! It’s the tourist season!” Phoebe waved her fists. “As it is, you’ve overstayed and I’ve completely angered two different sets of guests who believed they had rooms reserved in the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast!”
