Free Days of Wine and Roquefort (Cheese Shop Mystery) by Avery Aames

steep, Lois nestled into the chair opposite mine. “Now, tell me what happened. Why were the police at your house? Did you have a break-in?”
    “Worse. A murder.”
    She shuddered. “To think what this world is coming to.”
    I was pleased how confidential Urso and his deputies had kept the investigation so far. In the past, when a murder occurred, within seconds the town knew and journalists showed up to cover the story. A small town grapevine could be a positive or negative thing.
    In a hushed tone, I related what had happened in my garage.
    Lois shook her head with dismay. “How horrid.”
    “Did you happen to see anyone running from the house earlier?” I said. “Man or woman?”
    “I didn’t, I’m sorry to say. I’ll ask the other guests if they saw anything and report back. I’ve been busy. I served a full meal. Leg of lamb with mint jelly and all the fixings. We ended with a cheese course, as you advised me, with that scrumptiously smooth Doux de Montagne cheese, almonds, green grapes, and a drizzle of honey. Everyone raved.”
    My stomach grumbled in protest. I hadn’t eaten at the theater, and my appetite had been squelched after finding Noelle. Until now. I picked up a scone and bit into it. Melt-in-your-mouth tender.
    “Dear girl, you look spent. Put down the scone. I’ll fix you a plate of real supper, and then let’s get you settled in your room. You didn’t bring a suitcase.” She rose. “It matters not. Guests can sleep in the raw, if it suits their fancy.”
    A short while later, Lois, carrying a supper tray, beckoned me to follow her.
    I gathered up Rags. As we trudged upstairs, the notion that the killer had disappeared mighty fast dawned on me. Was he a guest at the inn? “Lois, do you have a guest named Boyd Hellman registered here?”
    “No. Why, dear? Is he the killer?”
    “No. I was . . . Never mind.” I clutched Rags closer to my chest, unwilling to reveal all of the facts of the case to Lois. Urso would have my hide.
    As Lois used a key to open the door of my room, I reflected again on Noelle’s last words:
hell’s key.
A key was an island, an inset in an atlas, a list of answers to a test, a code breaker, and so much more. What had she meant? Why couldn’t I have saved her?

CHAPTER

5

    I slept fitfully, dreaming or
nightmaring
—if that was a word—about Noelle fighting off her killer. At dawn, I startled awake. Had Noelle struggled? Why did it matter? How could I find out? I scooped up Rags and slipped out of the B&B vowing to repay Lois for her hospitality with a cheese basket filled with Brie, Camembert, and Fromager d’Affinois. She liked creamy cheeses.
    When I reached home, I sprinted down the driveway, set Rags on the grass to explore, and headed to the garage. Crime scene tape crisscrossed the side door, but that didn’t stop me from clicking on the garage door opener and entering. It was my property.
    Crisp air swirled around me and the tarp crackled beneath my feet as I tiptoed toward where Noelle had lain. I stopped beside the secretary desk and ran my hand along its smooth bare wood. I begged the desk to tell me about the tragedy, but it revealed no secrets. A raw feeling gripped my insides. Noelle had been selfless. Who had ended her life so young? Why? She had dedicated her last hours on earth to helping me get one step closer to completing my renovations. She hadn’t known me well, nor I her, and yet I felt that we could have become fast friends. I owed her a speedy answer to the question.
    Even though I knew Urso and his men had reviewed every inch of the scene, I searched for telltale signs of the killer’s identity. I was no forensic expert, but thanks to Rebecca’s insistence, I had watched plenty of crime shows on TV. I saw no footprints. No fibers. No stray hairs. Last night, other than seeing the boxes of nails and other garage items turned inside out, I hadn’t noticed signs of a struggle. Had Noelle and her killer been discussing