Free A Fright to the Death by Dawn Eastman

you.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “That sweater looks wonderful on you.” She tugged on a loose string. “Maybe I’ll finish it this weekend and you can keep it.”
    Mac gave her a tight smile and gestured toward the table. We sat and Mavis gazed at Mac while producing tinyscissors to snip the loose strings. I worried she planned to finish the sweater with Mac still in it. He cast a pleading glance in my direction.
    “I noticed that you went into the kitchen during dinner last night,” I said.
    Mavis tore her gaze from Mac to look at me. She nodded. “Yes, I went to find that handsome chef fellow. His food was just divine and I wanted to compliment him and find out what else was on the menu for the weekend.”
    Mavis rummaged in her voluminous purse and pulled out a large sewing needle. She began weaving the loose ends into the sweater. “But I couldn’t find him. His assistant was there, looking rather sullen at having to do all the desserts on his own. I went through the back door of the kitchen to see if the chef was there, but
still
didn’t find him. Then I remembered my blood pressure medication and went up to my room to get it. I had just come back into the dining room when the lights went out.”
    “Did you see anyone on your way to your room?”
    “No.” Mavis slowly shook her head. “I didn’t
see
a soul. But I thought I heard someone in Violet’s room. I’m right between Violet and Lucille.”
    Mac and I looked at each other and I raised an eyebrow. Who would have been in that room?
    “What, exactly, did you hear?” I said.
    “Just a couple of thumps. I guess it could have been anything—even that white cat that keeps jumping out at people.”
    Mavis’s mouth pulled downward into a frown. “I can’t say I liked Clarissa at all. We had a bit of . . . history, but it always makes me very sad when a young life is wasted.” She dabbed at a tear in the corner of her eye. Before I had a chance to react to what she had said, she spotted anotherloose string and went after it. Mac held up his hand to stop her.
    “Okay, thank you,” Mac said. “We appreciate your help. Let us know if you think of anything else.” He stood up and backed away from her.
    I thought it was one of his fastest interviews on record and suspected he regretted accepting her offer of a warm sweater.
    “I wish I could have been more helpful,” Mavis said. She lunged for another string, but I stepped between them and walked her to the door.

11

    Mavis reluctantly left, casting an adoring glance toward Mac on her way out of the dining room. Mac kept his eyes on his notebook. Once the room was empty, we decided to try to catch the kitchen staff while they were still cleaning up from breakfast.
    Mac walked into the kitchen and came out with the chef. René wore white from head to toe including one of those tall hats—not quite Chef Boyardee, but not subtle, either.
    He sat and nodded at us. “I’m sorry your vacation has been ruined. I heard you were on your way out of this winter weather,” he said. “But from a selfish standpoint, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t taken charge.”
    His accent was less pronounced than it had been the day before, or maybe I was getting used to it.
    I grimaced and nodded. “We’ll do our best to figure out what happened.”
    “How can I help?” He spread his hands out, palms up.
    “Can you remember what you were doing last evening during dinner and afterward when the lights went out?” I asked.
    René took a deep breath. “Of course. Obviously, I was short staffed due to the weather.” He waved his arm in the direction of the windows, which showed a bright white sky and piles of snow. “Jessica sent most of the staff home yesterday when the weather started to get bad. They all have families to get home to, so she took volunteers.”
    “And you volunteered?” Mac asked.
    René turned pink. “Actually, I live here. Jessica