Death Dines Out

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The fourth day of the blizzard, Sarah Quilliam seriously considered unpacking her luggage. There was no way the Syracuse airport would open the next day. She and her sister, Meg, were going to miss their flight to Palm Beach. Snow piled high around the foundations of the Inn at Hemlock Falls. The waterfall in Hemlock Gorge had frozen to a small trickle, and the road to the Inn was drifted over.

There were no guests. The Inn was closed and would be closed for another week. The waiters, sous chefs, and receptionist had been sent home days before. The staff that remained was getting very, very irritable. There was nothing to do except squabble.

"You two might better have stayed home anyways," Doreen Muxworthy-Stoker said. Somewhere in her fifties - Doreen wasn't telling, and she never had filled out an employment application-she was the Inn's head housekeeper. They were all sitting around a table in the Inn's dining room: Doreen; Meg, the gourmet chef and Quill's partner; John Raintree, their business manager; and Quill herself.

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