Love Overboard - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,35

kitchen. You and I were in the bathroom. And in the space of ten minutes, someone got that body out of the house.”

Stephanie agreed. “There’s something else that bothers me. Whoever locked the body in my closet knew about the skeleton key. Do you have any secret passages in this house? Any long-lost deranged relatives living in concealed rooms?”

“You’ve been watching too many movies.”

She pushed back in her chair. “Lucy called every mortuary within a forty-mile radius, and no one was missing an old man in a gray suit. I can’t believe we’ve hit a dead end on this. What have we overlooked?”

He pulled her to her feet and hooked his arm around her waist. “And you thought Maine was going to be dull.” He nestled her against him, pleased at the feel of her in his arms.

“Tell me the truth, do you mind that I’ve turned Haben into a bed-and-breakfast inn?”

A small, tight, humorless smile curved his mouth. “You think I’m behind all of this, don’t you?”

Stephanie smiled back at him—a broad, brash, teasing smile. “Let’s just say you’re not above suspicion.”

Chapter 7

Eileen Platz was a small woman in her early fifties. She was rail thin with short jet-black hair and sharp, dark eyes. Her husband had the large frame of an athlete and the soft paunch of a man gone sedentary. They stood on Haben’s newly reconstructed front porch and looked at the ground, which was covered with leaves, then looked at the bare trees and briefly exchanged glares.

“I told you we should have come last week,” Eileen Platz said, her mouth pressed into a mean little line.

“Don’t start, Eileen. It wasn’t my idea to drive fourteen hours to see a bunch of dying leaves.”

Lucy watched them from the front window. “What do you think? Do you think we should let them slug it out, or should we invite them in?”

“I need the money,” Stephanie told her. “Let’s haul them in here and feed them some sparkling cider and crackers and cheese.” She opened the door, introduced herself, and was pleased to see their attitude change once they were inside the house.

“This is lovely,” Eileen Platz said. “This is like living in a museum. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Eileen’s a big history buff,” her husband explained. “And she’s a real antique hound.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy Haben.” Stephanie gave them a room key and directed them to the master bedroom. “When you’re settled in, you can come downstairs for cheese and cider.”

Melody swept into the foyer and stopped short at coming face-to-face with Mr. and Mrs. Platz. She was dressed entirely in black: short black boots, black tights, short black skirt, black leather jacket, and big, dangly black earrings. Her face was pancake white with her usual raccoon eye makeup, and her hair was brilliant orange.

Stephanie stifled a gasp at the orange hair and reminded herself that she’d only asked Melody to make her hair all one color. Probably she should be more specific after this. Probably Melody thought this would be appropriate since Halloween was coming up.

“Melody, this is Mr. and Mrs. Platz. They’re going to be staying in the master bedroom. Would you mind helping them with their bags?”

“No sweat. Just call me Cinderella.” She hefted a suitcase and smiled at Mrs. Platz. “I like your hair. Is that Clairol Ebony? I had my hair that color in March.”

Stephanie turned to Ivan. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. I have a nagging premonition of disaster.”

“You’ll get used to it. This is a lot like running a schooner. For the most part, it’s fun. You get to meet a lot of new people, and you get to share a part of the past with them.”

“Mmmm, but you never had Melody for a bellhop.”

“No. I was blessed with Ace.”

Stephanie grinned. “I guess we each have our own cross to bear. You never answered my question last night. Does it bother you to see Haben turned into an inn?”

He slung his arm around her shoulders. It didn’t bother him to see Haben turned into an inn, but he wasn’t sure about turning Stephanie into an innkeeper. He’d rather see her turned into a wife and mother. Selfish attitude, he told himself. There wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t be wife, mother, and innkeeper. This was the twentieth-first century. Women wore many hats.

Ivan sighed. Right now, he didn’t care about Stephanie’s hats. At this particular moment he was more interested in her lingerie. He wondered if that made him a sexist