It was then that she looked up to notice that the Smiths, an elderly couple who weren’t supposed to be checking out until tomorrow, had come to the front desk and were both staring at her in horror.
Riley straightened and cleared her throat. “Um, that was just a theoretical exercise. We aren’t really hiding any bodies here.”
This statement did little to change the look of horror on the Smiths’ faces. Mr. Smith handed her his key card. “We’re checking out early.”
Part of Riley knew that they weren’t checking out early because they’d heard her talking about hiding a body. They had their suitcases with them, so they clearly meant to check out before they walked up.
She felt their disapproval anyway. After she settled their bill and said her usual, “Hope you’ll come back and see us soon!” the couple hurried away a little faster than politeness called for.
Kathy watched them go out the front door. “They’re never coming back.”
“I know,” Riley said.
Sara took her place behind the desk to replace Riley. “Maybe your next marketing slogan should be: No one is actually hidden in our cement.”
“Oh dear.” Riley’s gaze fell on the mockup flyer she’d been working on. It sat prominently on the desk, and no doubt the Smiths had seen it. The slogan read: Lose yourself in Montana’s best bed and breakfast!
She picked it up and showed it to Kathy and Sara. “This probably didn’t help matters.”
Sara was still laughing and writing the wordsWe’re like Hotel Californiaonto the flyer when Lucas strolled up. He’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned his collar. He still managed to look crisp and professional, just more approachable. And adorable. And sexy. And a bunch of other things that shouldn’t be crossing her mind.
His gaze circled the group. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just experiencing more pain,” Riley said. “Deflection is going full blast.”
Kathy nodded. “For sure the Smiths are never coming back.”
“Oh?” Lucas asked, waiting for more of an explanation.
Sara handed Lucas the flyer. “They saw this and heard Riley judging our where to hide a dead body contest.”
“Ah,” Lucas said. “You’re right. They’re never coming back.”
Just then, the front door opened, and the Smiths shuffled inside.
“We spoke too soon,” Lucas said.
“Hide the flyer,” Riley hissed and grabbed it from Lucas’s hand. She shoved it face down on the desk.
Mr. Smith headed to the desk while Mrs. Smith parked herself by a window in the adjacent sitting room. She peered out with wide eyes, wringing her hands.
“A couple is fighting in the parking lot,” Mr. Smith said, his voice faster than normal. “The man is a big guy, and he’s got something in his hand—either a knife or a gun. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt her.”
The humor vanished from the room like a snuffed candle. “Call the police,” Riley told Sara. She was closest to the phone. Without a word, Sara picked up the receiver and dialed 911.
Lucas headed to the door with a determined stride. Riley could tell by his set jaw that he meant to confront the weapon-wielding man. “The inn’s procedure,” she called, “is to let the police handle dangerous situations.”
“Iamthe police,” he said.
“You’re not,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder without slowing his pace. “I’m not waiting for them. The rest of you stay inside.”
Riley followed after him with quick worried steps. “What if he has a gun?”
“That’s why you’re staying inside.” Lucas pushed the front door open and marched outside.
He didn’t have a weapon or any protection, just stubbornness. That sort of stubbornness could get a man killed. It would only take him a couple of minutes to go down the walkway and reach the parking lot.