The Rotary Club Murder Mystery Read Online Free Page A

said, “I’ll have to think about it.” And then I walked off and left him.
    Well, the more I thought about it, the more excited I was. And so I got up on Monday morning and put on my white dress with the big black polka dots and my white straw hat with the red poppies on it and my red kid shoes. I can’t wear high heels anymore. My bunions won’t allow it. But these are real nice shoes with heels about an inch high. And of course I wore my cut crystal beads—the same ones that I had to break to solve the DAR murder. But that sweet Helen Delaporte! She took the beads to Reinhold’s Jewelers and had them sent to someplace in New Jersey where they strung them professionally.
    There’s nothing in the world I would take for those beads, because that darling Lamar gave them to me when we were married.
    After I got myself all fixed up, I called Fred Middleton at his office. He’s seventy-three, but he still practices. I said, “Fred, give me the number of that room where that man was killed at the motel.” It was 106. Then I got into my old DeSoto and drove over to the Borderville Motor Inn to have breakfast.
    It is a right nice place. The folks are friendly and the food is good, even if it is a bit expensive. But breakfast is the reasonable meal, and that was part of the reason why I wanted to have a late breakfast there. You’ll find out the rest of the reason in just a minute.
    There was a nice head-in parking place in front of the Inn when I drove up just after 9:30. I rolled up the car window, locked the door, and walked to the entrance. Then I went in and stood there by the sign that tells you to wait for the hostess. When that young lady came, I asked her if they were serving on the deck by the pool.
    The deck is just by the dining room, with a door right there,
and it is so pleasant to eat outside in good weather. It is very pretty and nice, with round iron tables and those big umbrellas that come out of the middle.
    â€œWhy yes,” she said, “if you’ll just come this way.”
    Now I had to be seated out there on the deck so I could see room 106, the room where this Hollonbrook was killed.
    I sat down on the nice rattan chair and put my red purse on the table, where I wouldn’t forget it.
    The young woman came out and took my order. I decided to have orange juice, a waffle, bacon, one egg over easy, and coffee. It came to $3.50 and was more breakfast than I usually eat, but it was already so late in the morning that I could count that as part of my lunch and just eat a bowl of cereal or something at noon.
    There was hardly anyone around—just the one lady in her bathing suit, lying on a chaise longue on the other side of the pool. But she had a book and wasn’t paying any attention to me.
    It was cool and pleasant enough as I sat there munching my waffle. The hostess had been nice enough to switch on the outdoor Muzak machine, and it was playing some nice, soft music. So I was just having an elegant time when I saw what I was waiting for.
    You see, the motel part of the building goes right around that pool on two sides, with the office and dining room forming the third side. Where the two rows of rooms come together at the corner, there is a place where you can come through.
    I had just finished my egg when the maid came along the walkway, pulling a cart with a vacuum sweeper and a big hamper on it through that opening. She was a little meager sort of white woman in a uniform that was attractive enough, but it just drooped on her.
    I watched her drag that hamper up to the first door on the other side of the pool. Then she picked up a key hooked to a wooden paddle about a foot long that she had hanging over the
side of the hamper. She opened the door, wedged it open with a piece of wood, and then laid the key and the paddle over the edge of the hamper again.
    She went inside, and in just a second the TV in that room began to blare out. Then she