Free Checking Inn by Emily Harper

me.  “I need that list you have of the people that were in town last night.”
    “Of course,” I say.  “Is one o’clock okay?”
    “That’s fine.”
    I say goodnight again and open the door to make the short walk home.  And that dog better be on her best behavior when I get there or she’s sleeping outside.
     

Six
    Today is a new day.  I scrub my hair and body in the shower until I am certain there is not a trace left of the disastrous day before.  I have my toast and coffee while reading the newspaper in my sunny kitchen.  I tilt my head at my suits in my neatly lined closet and decide on the ash grey.  I even put on my hounds tooth blouse, which is usually a print I save for the weekend. But, I deserve to have a treat today.
    I have compiled a list for Detective Gable of the people that have been staying at the Inn for the past few weeks, as well as anyone I know of that may be visiting a relative in town.  It’s not an extremely long list.  Our town’s population is just over five thousand, mainly retired people or young families who don’t travel much.  The town was founded in 1786, and we pride ourselves on maintaining a tight knit community.  About five years ago, when I applied for all the permits so the Inn could start construction, I asked the mayor if I could be in charge of a “guest book” for the town.  Anyone who is coming or going, besides those just driving through, is asked to stop at the Inn and sign the book.  At first it was met with a lot of eye rolling, but after a while everyone seemed to embrace it– saying it added further charm to our little town.
    Now the book is a bit of a tourist attraction.  And let me tell you, if someone doesn’t sign that book, everyone knows.  It’s the first thing people ask when their guests arrive, and if they haven’t stopped at the Inn they have to by the end of the day.  Mrs. Phelps brought her nephew in last month by the ear and wouldn’t let go until he signed in. 
    I love our town.
    On my drive to work I make sure my portable coffee mug is firmly in place in the cup holder with the top securely on.  Just as it should be.
    Stepping out of my car, I collect my purse, jacket, and clipboard off the passenger seat and lift my face to the refreshing breeze.  I can smell the fresh water from the lake and feel all the chaos of the previous day melt away.  Today is going to be a better day.
    I enter the front door and see Tracy standing behind the reception desk.
    “Hi Tracy,” I say and come to stand behind the desk, hanging my coat and purse up on the rack.
    “Hi, Kate.  We didn’t expect you this early,” she says, looking at her watch.  “I have an early morning facial booked or I wouldn’t be here myself.”
    “Just thought I would get a head start on things.  I didn’t manage to get a lot of paperwork done yesterday,” I say.
    “No, I guess not.  Have they found anything yet?” she’s asks.
    “Not that I know of.  They hadn’t as of last night.”
    “It’s just so creepy,” she says.  “I was tossing and turning all night, and Tim kept asking me what was wrong, but I obviously couldn’t tell him.”
    I nod and put my hand on her arm in a show of support.
    “I mean, you don’t think anyone we know did this,  do you ?” she asks and darts her eyes around as though the killer could jump out at us any minute.
    “Absolutely not,” I say.  “Come on Tracy, do you honestly think anyone from Summerside is capable of  murder ?  It took us two years and five town meetings to agree to send that letter to Hartford politely asking them to put us on their surrounding areas map.  We’re not the most confrontational people.”
    “I know, you’re right,” she says.  “But then, who did it?”
    “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head.  “I went through our guest book last night and can’t think of a single person that is capable of this.”
    Her eyes light up and she snaps