Free The Corpse Wore Tartan by Kaitlyn Dunnett Page A

me, this is one night when no one is likely to wander in off the street to ask for a room.”
    They slipped quietly into the private dining room, not that anyone would have noticed them if they’d thumped and clattered. The members of SHAS were all on their feet, singing at the top of their lungs.
    Liss intercepted Dan and Sherri before they’d gone more than a few steps inside the door. “The supper is just wrapping up,” she mouthed.
    The singers belted out last few words of “Auld Lang Syne” and abruptly fell silent. People started gathering up their possessions, preparatory to leaving the room. Anxious to make his announcements before they could scatter, Dan headed for the microphone. Liss and Sherri were right behind him.
    â€œLadies and gentleman,” he said, “if you could just stay put for a moment?”
    He heard grumbling, but everyone obediently stopped moving.
    â€œThank you.” He drew breath to ask them all to adjourn to the lobby, but before he could say another word, the room plunged into darkness.
    A woman gasped. A man cursed. Someone bumped into the table and let out a colorful oath. For a moment, confusion reigned, but everyone present lived in Maine or New Hampshire. They were not exactly strangers to power outages.
    The emergency lights flickered to life. The word EXIT lit up over the doors and a few dim bulbs shed pale illumination from strategic spots along the walls. Dan turned on his flashlight and shone it up at his own face. The microphone was dead, but he had a good loud voice when he needed it.
    â€œSorry about this, folks,” he bellowed. “If you could all just hold on another minute?”
    He waited for them to settle again.
    â€œWell, we’ve got a beaut of a storm tonight,” he said, opting for a folksy tone he hoped would soothe rattled nerves. “Just about everything is on the blink—electricity, phones, computers. And I’m not even going to try to guess how long we’ll have to do without. But, as you can see, we do have emergency lights and we have plenty of flashlights. We also have battery-powered lanterns. Enough for everyone. What I’d like each of you to do right now is go down to the lobby—use the stairs, please—and collect the illumination of your choice. Even if the power comes back on in short order, you’ll probably want to keep another light source handy tonight, in case of further outages.”
    â€œWill the johns work with the power out?” someone called from the back of the room.
    Dan waited for the laughter to die down. “You’ll be glad to know that the hotel’s generator will indeed keep the plumbing going.”
    Applause greeted this announcement.
    â€œWe do ask that you don’t take any long, hot showers or baths until power is restored. As for heat, we will have to keep the thermostats turned low—around sixty degrees—and the fireplaces some of you have in your rooms are not approved for use by the fire marshall, so please don’t try to use them. However, we already have a fire lit in the hearth in the lobby and there are fireplaces in most of the public rooms. We have a plentiful supply of wood to keep all of those going, and the stoves in the kitchen run on gas, so providing you with hot meals will not be a problem.”
    Someone tugged on Dan’s sleeve. He looked down to see Sherri Willett standing beside him. For a moment, he’d forgotten about that stolen brooch. He cleared his throat.
    â€œThere is one other thing. This is Officer Willett of the Moosetookalook Police Department. She needs to speak briefly with each of you before you turn in for the night. I’ll let her explain, and then we can all head down to the lobby together.”
    He stepped back and hoped for the best. So far, everyone was being pretty understanding about the loss of utilities, but Dan had a feeling that their tolerance was about to be put to