PW02 - Bidding on Death by Joyce Harmon Read Free Book Online

toy dishes, showing him a similar set that sold for over $100. “And that one isn’t even the lemonade and oxblood!” I pointed out.
    Jack shook his head. “Now you’re picking up a whole new vocabulary to baffle me with. I thought the computer stuff was bad, but what with cutters and MIB, it won’t be long before I won’t understand a thing you say.”
    “Ooh,” I said. “We’d have to communicate via sign language. Sounds interesting.” I twined my arms around his neck and continued dramatically, “Two people, separated by language and culture, yet brought together by fate and a passion too strong to be denied…”
    Jack laughed. “Your talent is wasted on those software manuals,” he told me. “Have you thought about romance writing?”
    The discussion then proceeded wordlessly, using the aforementioned sign language.
    Rose never called me back, so I figured she must not have had a break-in and the motive for the other two break-ins must be something else.
    And there I should have left it. But the next afternoon, I was delivering a few cases of wine to Washington House, our high end B&B. Dave, owner and chef extraordinaire, has made our Cabernet and Chardonnay their house wines. I was pleased to note that the orders from Washington House were becoming larger and more frequent, so the wine was a hit with their knowledg e able clientele. Validation is always satisfying.
    On the way to the B&B, I noticed idly that the little house I passed on the way must be Rose Jackson’s; the number on the mailbox looked familiar, and I remembered seeing the street address in the phone book. I automatically filed the information and proceeded on to Washington House, where Dave and Bev were glad to take a break and get my opinion on a new dessert quiche Dave was trying out. Chocolate raspberry? What more could I say? Heaven!
    We sat in the bar and schmoozed for a while. According to Dave and Bev (coincidentally last-named Washington , though Washington House is named for that famous fellow who alleged Slept Here all over the eastern seaboard ), the business was doing fantastic. Washington House is both a B&B and a restaurant and it seemed that the biggest growth was on the restaurant side. Queen Anne County is off the main tourist track, so the overnight customers were mainly people visiting relatives or getting away from it all. But Queen Anne itself was growing, and much of the new population was from more urban areas. Washington House was the only real Fine Dining within sixty miles, so they were becoming the go-to place when people wanted to dress up and have an elegant evening.
    “And it’s only going to get better,” Bev predicted. “ Gene Abernathy had dinner here last night – he loves your Chard, by the way – and he says his new development is really going to be upscale.”
    “Oh?” This was new to me. “What new development?”
    “It will be on the site of the old Beaumont farm,” Dave said. “Gene says no house lot under two a cres, and there will be a boathouse and hiking trail. He’ll really be bringing in the high income resident. And they’ll appreciate good food in elegant surroundings.”
    “You’ve certainly got that here,” I told him admiringly. I loved having dinner at Washington House, but Jack and I couldn’t afford to go as often as we’d like. A big wine order for Jack or completed writing assignment for me – this was where we celebrated.
    I patted the Washington mastiffs, knowing that when I got home Polly would instantly realize that I’d been cheating on her with other dogs. Then refreshed from a social break, I headed out to return home.
    But as I drove back down Washington Avenue, I found myself slowing down and then turning in at the Jackson house. Call me nosy, call me interfering, but I just would feel better if I heard Rose tell me outright that she hadn’t experienced a break-in like the other big buyers at the auction.
    The driveway led to the back of the house; it