The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) (16 page)

BOOK: The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2)
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"You're right, Stone—"

"Lexie, I'm sorry—"

"No, you're right. Eavesdropping on Boris Dack's conversation was a stupid thing to
do, and I apologize. I just couldn't stand not knowing what the six o'clock phone
call was all about. I'm still not sure, but I know more than I did before. Please
don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, and I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said as he put his arms around
me and pulled me into an embrace. "I love you, Lexie, and the thought of anything
happening to you... well, I didn't handle the situation very well, I guess."

"I love you, too, Stone. Thanks for rescuing me just in the nick of time. Remind me
to have Crystal run a mop under all the beds tomorrow. The dust bunnies were launching
me into a sneezing fit. And Stone, you handled this incident tonight like a pro. I'll
try to be more careful in the future and not put you in the position of having to
handle my problems so frequently. My actions tonight were thoughtless and reckless,
and I'll try my best to see such a thing doesn't happen again, or at least not very
often."

I stopped short of making any rash promises because I knew myself well enough to know
my impulsiveness was sometimes impossible to keep in check.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate if you were more cautious, more often. That's all I can
ask for, I guess. More often."

We shared a long kiss and an even longer hug, and then I reiterated what I'd heard
Boris say on the phone. Stone had never heard of a "kakapo" either, and agreed I should
perform a Google search on his computer. He handed me the keys to his room and office,
which I shoved into my pocket.

"Would you stay with me in my room tonight, Lexie?"

"I thought we'd agreed if we had guests in the inn, we shouldn't—"

"That was before all this happened. Now, with the current circumstances being what
they are, I'd feel better having you where I can keep an eye on you. Besides, I've
missed you." Stone reached around to cup the cheeks of my posterior in his hands and
pull me toward him. He'd made his message quite clear. He squeezed my butt cheeks
tenderly, and said, "I sleep better when I have you next to me."

"I've missed you, too. And I'd definitely feel safer and sleep more soundly with you
beside me. The fingernail file I keep under my pillow offers a very limited sense
of security."

"Okay. Then it's settled. By the way, you do know who Pablo Pikstone is, don't you?"
Stone asked me.

"No, I don't think I've ever heard of him."

"He's the eccentric billionaire who lives just outside Blue Springs. He has a large
estate off I-70, and he houses lions, tigers, monkeys, alligators, and all kinds of
other wild and exotic animals on his property. A ten-foot tall fence surrounds the
entire compound with razor-sharp barbs across the top. It looks like a prison yard.
He has several zoo-keepers and animal trainers on his payroll."

"Oh, yes, I do remember the place now. Wasn't there a lot of controversy with the
animal rights activists a few years ago? About him illegally keeping endangered species
or something like that?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. He probably gave a huge cash donation to all their assorted
non-profit animal rights organizations just to get them off his back. He certainly
wouldn't contribute for the sake of the animals. But money can be a powerful incentive,
you know. It's unfortunate, though, because something needs to be done to protect
those animals. They shouldn't be forced to live in cages the way they frequently are.
I can't even stand to visit a zoo for that very reason."

I agreed, and then excused myself to go to the kitchen to help Crystal finish the
supper preparations. I felt guilty for having heaped so much responsibility on our
already overworked young helper.

* * *

Crystal did not look overworked when I arrived in the kitchen. She was smiling and
humming as she dished up the mashed potatoes with a large silver spoon. I noticed
she'd already set the table. She waved off my apology and motioned for me to move
the zucchini from the stove to the serving dish. I told her Boris would be skipping
supper, and I removed one of the place settings when I took the zucchini and potatoes
into the dining room. A large platter of fried chicken was already in the middle of
the large table with smaller bowls of gravy, olives, sliced tomatoes, and celery sticks,
arranged around it. The scene was so appealing and the aroma so enticing, it made
my mouth water.

Crystal followed me in the room with a basket of hot, steaming dinner rolls and a
tub of whipped butter. I looked up at the clock on top of the china hutch as it chirped
half past the hour.

The guests began to enter the dining room to take their places at the table. Patty
led the pack, as usual. I hoped she'd be able to force a little food down her gullet,
even though she'd been off her feed recently. By the gleam in her eyes, and the licking
of her lips, I didn't think this was going to be a major problem.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

"Agh! Eech! Bleeck!"

Everyone at the table stopped chewing to look in horror at Patty Poffenbarger, who
was choking on something she'd just attempted to swallow. Soon the sounds of agony
ceased when she could no longer draw any air down her windpipe. Her face began to
turn a vivid color of purple as she grasped her throat in terror. Her multiple chins
were quivering like a mouse in a snake's cage. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Otto sat beside his wife as motionless as a Vatican guard, in a state of helpless
panic. The only one who didn't seem to be frozen in time was Stone, who jumped to
his feet and darted around the table in a flash. He wrapped his arms around Patty's
ample abdomen, his hands clenched together under her sternum. He then executed the
Heimlich maneuver in one deft upward and inward thrust.

Nothing happened. Patty continued to flail her arms and turn deeper shades of purple.
Stone tried again, and again, nothing happened.

Finally, on his fourth attempt, there was a distinct
whoosh
as a small piece of chicken bone flew across the table and landed with a muted splash
in the gravy boat. Eleven pairs of eyes stared at the bone floating on top of the
chicken gravy as if waiting for it to perform a soft shoe act for their entertainment.
Almost in unison, everybody at the table placed their silverware across their plates
and scooted their chairs back away from the table. Supper was officially over. I'd
already put my silverware down and was thinking back to the comment I'd made to Wendy
about chicken bones being hazardous to one's health. Had I somehow had a premonition
of this near-tragedy? Or had I jinxed Patty Poffenbarger into nearly choking to death?

"Why, I never!" Patty exclaimed once she could speak again. "I ought to sue this abhorrent
establishment for every dime I can squeeze out of it! Serving chicken with the bones
still intact? What in God's name were you thinking? Good grief. I could have died
right here at this very table! Don't think for one damned second you're going to get
away with this kind of—of—uh, negligence!"

Otto Poffenbarger stared at his wife as if he were just seeing her for the first time.
A look of pure disgust came over his face, and he spoke out with an assertiveness
even he couldn't have known he possessed. "Shut up, you fool. You owe your life to
Mr. Van Patten, Patricia. It was he, the owner of this
abhorrent
establishment, who kept you from keeling over dead from nothing more than your own
obsessive gluttony. It certainly wasn't his fault you were stuffing yourself like
a Christmas turkey. If not for him, you very well would have died at this table, and
you owe him your utmost gratitude for reacting as he did and saving your fat ass!"

For the next few seconds, you could have heard a fly pass gas in the dining room.
Otto was livid, pointing his finger in fury at his spouse, who was beginning to turn
purple again—but this time from mortification. It was safe to assume she'd never seen
Otto take a stance like this before. He normally let her play him like a four-stringed
banjo. But not today.

"There shouldn't have been any bones in the—"

"Shut up, I said!" Otto commanded. "I've heard enough out of you for one night. Everyone
at this table has heard enough out of you! Chickens have bones, you dolt. They always
have had bones, and they always will have bones. You should be smart enough to know
you can't gulp fried chicken down like a bowl of tomato soup. It's not like you haven't
been shoving it in your face for years. And nobody claimed we were having de-boned
chicken for supper, did they? Well? Did they?"

Patty began to respond but thought better of it. She clamped her lips together and
struggled to her feet. Otto used his left hand to grasp her elbow to lead her away
from the table and his right to shake hands with Stone. "We owe you our deepest appreciation
for your quick thinking and action. There'll be no more mention of lawsuits—of any
kind. I promise. You've been a most gracious host, and we're in your debt, Stone.
Thank you."

Stone patted Otto's shoulder, and replied, "You're welcome, sir."

Otto waved at Crystal as he turned to escort his seething spouse from the room. "And
thank you, young lady, for another delicious supper."

* * *

"Boorish hog," I heard Crystal mutter under her voice as she left the dining room.
I had to agree with Crystal and was amused at her assessment of Mrs. Poffenbarger.
She wasn't aware I'd heard her comment, so I didn't embarrass her by mentioning it.

After I'd carried all the dirty supper dishes to the kitchen, Crystal dealt with the
leftovers, and I began loading the dishwasher. In unspoken agreement, all of the leftover
chicken was hurled into the trashcan so as not to be a gruesome reminder the next
day of the choking incident.

As I added Cascade to the dishwasher's reservoirs, I noticed Crystal's normal rosy
complexion had suddenly taken on an ashen appearance. It was apparent she was thinking
about the near-tragedy and beginning to feel personally responsible for the bone that
had lodged in Patty's throat. "Lexie, maybe I should have—"

"It's not your fault, Crystal. There's absolutely no way you could have prevented
what happened. De-boning chicken before you fry it is not common practice. Like Otto
said, the woman was gorging herself with no thought of being cautious of the bones
that are always found in southern fried chicken," I said. "You've had a very long
day, my dear. Why don't you call it a night and let me finish up in here? You've got
to be back here early in the morning. And beyond everything else, it's snowing outside.
You'll want to get home before it gets too slick or deep."

"Yes, you're probably right," Crystal said, looking out the window at the snow melting
as it landed on the sidewalk. For the first time since I'd met the young woman, she
appeared weary and distracted. Gone was her normal gregarious personality.

"If you have any trouble getting out in the morning, call me here and I'll come pick
you up in my Jeep. It's got four-wheel-drive, of course."

"I live in St. Joseph, you know, not Rockdale," Crystal said.

"That's okay. I can find it if you give me directions. I don't mind driving the extra
distance at all."

"All right, I'll head home. And I promise to call in the morning if I can't get my
car out. It doesn't do real well on snow or slick roads, and sometimes the old clunker
won't even start in cold weather."

Crystal bundled up in her coat and knit hat in preparation to leave. "Good night.
See you tomorrow."

"Good night, dear. Thanks for all your hard work today."

* * *

After the kitchen was gleaming again, I made a fresh pot of decaf, poured myself a
cup, and put the rest into a pump-style thermos. I sat it out on a cart in the parlor
in case any of the guests decided to look for a cup of after-supper coffee. I added
a few small saucers, forks, napkins, and an apple-strudel crumb cake Crystal had baked
earlier in the day. I was sure Patty Poffenbarger, given a little time to recover
from her near-death experience, would be back in the kitchen before retiring, attempting
to stave off starvation. After all, supper had been cut short, and she needed to eat
to keep up her strength. She did have a pesky thyroid condition to cope with.

BOOK: The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2)
4.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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