Free An Old-Fashioned Murder by Carol Miller Page B

to ask, considering that I’ve barely been out of this room since they arrived, which was three days ago.”
    â€œHave they been here only three days? It seems a lot longer.”
    â€œThat’s because Kenneth talks so much,” Beulah commented dryly.
    â€œBut in three days Georgia must have seen them, right?” Daisy said.
    Scrunching up her nose some more, Beulah considered it. “Not necessarily. She always eats breakfast alone. Then she spends most of the day either in the kitchen or cleaning the rooms with the door closed. And lots of evenings she eats alone, too. I’m trying to remember if she was at the dining table the night before last.”
    â€œThe Lunts went out to eat the night before last,” Lucy replied. “I know because they came back late, and I couldn’t help overhearing. It was some place down in Danville, although I didn’t catch the name.”
    Daisy nodded. “I heard part of their conversation when they were coming down the hall. Sarah liked it, but Kenneth didn’t.”
    Beulah gave another snort. “No great secrets of national security could ever be kept here.”
    â€œBut our little secrets are so much more fun,” Lucy rejoined, reaching for a piece of shortbread.
    â€œSo it’s possible,” Daisy returned to the more pertinent point, “that Georgia hadn’t seen the Lunts before this afternoon.”
    â€œIt’s possible,” Beulah agreed.
    â€œAlthough it’s probably more likely that she was surprised to see someone else,” Daisy went on.
    â€œMaybe Henry Brent,” Beulah suggested. “And maybe instead of being surprised, she was shocked. That burgundy-striped seersucker of his is enough to blind you.”
    Lucy stopped chewing. “He’s wearing the burgundy seersucker?”
    â€œIt matches the burgundy velvet draperies in the parlor perfectly,” Daisy answered, deadpan.
    Her mama chuckled. “Henry always was a snappy dresser. But somehow I doubt that was what made Georgia drop a tray of glasses.”
    â€œShe was staring hard at the person afterward,” Daisy told her. “And then she was staring at Aunt Emily’s Remington in the kitchen.”
    â€œHmm.” Lucy took a contemplative bite of shortbread. “I always thought there could be more to Georgia than met the eye. She’s very secretive.”
    â€œThat’s what Drew said, too.”
    Stretching out in the rocking chair, Beulah put her feet back up on the bed. “I’m not sure that I trust her.”
    â€œWhy not?” Daisy asked.
    â€œFor starters, we know nothing about her.”
    Daisy couldn’t argue with that. She had thought the exact same thing only a short while earlier.
    â€œShe also doesn’t give me my phone messages,” Beulah added somewhat peevishly.
    â€œThat was only one time,” Daisy reminded her. “It was on the inn’s phone line, so she got confused about it being a guest.”
    Beulah responded with a dubious grunt.
    â€œWell, we can find out more about Georgia tonight,” Daisy proposed. “You can help me watch her at dinner. See who she reacts to, or doesn’t react to.”
    â€œTomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll have the eyes of a hawk. But not tonight. No can do.”
    Daisy looked at Beulah questioningly.
    She squinted back at her with impatience. “I have my date!”
    â€œYou have a date? Since when?”
    â€œSince Wade’s schedule changed. He’s driving through the area this evening, so I agreed to meet him.”
    Lucy set down her teacup. “Beulah, dear, are you sure that’s safe? You don’t really know this man, do you?”
    â€œThat’s why I picked somewhere public to get together. Friday night at the General is always busy, so there will be plenty of people around in case things turn sour.”
    The General—a tribute to Robert E. Lee, a recurring theme in