Dead at Breakfast Read Online Free

hotel.
    â€œI swear I know who they are, it’s driving me crazy not to be able to Google them. It’s like having a phantom limb. Before I went to bed I heard the sister chewing on Mr. Gurrell, demanding to join the cooking class. He kept saying Chef Sarah closed the class months ago, and the sister said ‘Do you know who I am?’”
    â€œI didn’t think people really said that,” Maggie remarked, stepping around some porcupine scat on the trail. “So what brought you all this way for this class? You must have plenty of food to write about in San Francisco.”
    â€œChef Sarah came from San Francisco. She used to cook at a little bistro out in the avenues. She made a lobster ice cream you could kill for. Kill.”
    â€œI think that sounds completely disgusting.”
    â€œIt was a first course. People would taste it and swoon, you could hear them hitting the floor all over the dining room. I was crushed when she moved east.”
    By the time Maggie had had her posthike shower and eaten breakfast, Teddy had been into town to Just Barb’s, which had a wi-fi hotspot, and returned with a wealth of Internet gossip and a copy of the Boston Herald .
    And the two blond sisters had joined the cooking class.
    Mr. Rexroth was in Gabriel’s office, spluttering in a rapid, pressured way that was frequently interrupted with explosions, like a car running rough with occasional backfires. His forehead was wrinkled with distress and his bald head had gone pink. He was wearing his summer uniform, a seersucker suit that had seen much better days.
    â€œWe met them in the hall last night and everything was fine, they seemed like lovely girls and Clarence sniffed and it sniffed and everyone wagged but then this morning just as I settled down to my sermon it started to yap and it yapped and that made Clarence howl and I don’t know I just don’t know, I can’t work with a racket like that and the text is from Jeremiah and you know what that’s like, I mean it’s hard enough and they’re up there this minute yapping and howling . . .”
    â€œI’m so sorry this is happening, Mr. Rexroth. As you know we love our four-legged guests . . .”
    â€œYes but, yes but . . . is there no other place you could move them to? How long are they staying? I mean I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”
    â€œI understand,” said Gabriel rather desperately. “You know what a valued friend of the Mountain Inn family you are. I don’t know what I can do this morning except to offer you another room to work in, but . . .”
    â€œCan Clarence come with me?”
    â€œAs I was going to say, I don’t have another room open where we’re allowed to accommodate pets. As soon as I can I’ll try to arrange a trade with another guest.”
    â€œI hope you have one who’s deaf as a fence post,” said Mr. Rexroth bitterly.
    Gabriel had already thought of that and had no idea what he was going to do about it. There were a limited number of rooms where animals were allowed, all occupied, and the guests were out for the day. Except for Earl, the stable manager who had had an accident and fallen on very hard times. Gabriel allowed him to live in the smallest room in exchange for some light gardening and taking care of the horses. Earl had already been to Gabe’s office to mention how much the yapping in 6G was upsetting his parrot.
    â€œI wonder if possibly Clarence could wait for you in the car, just for this morning? The weather is mild and we could—”
    â€œIn the car ? Clarence? In the CAR? He did not start this, it’s that tarted-up little . . . he would feel he was being punished ! And that’s not fair! Where is its mother?”
    Gabriel wished with all his heart that its “mother” was at the bottom of Long Lake along with her huge fat bully of a husband, but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
    â€œI