The throbbing in her hand had lessened, thanks to the morphine and antibiotic drip in her arm. Her husband conferred in quiet tones with the surgeon about the skin graft operation that was scheduled for later that afternoon. Hopefully, there would be no permanent nerve damage. After checking on his wife, Ted Burkle went off in search of a pay phone. He needed to call Gus Kincaid and ask him to look after the dogs. Ted dialed Gus’s number and got the answering machine. He kept his message brief. “Maebeth will be fine, back to her old self in no time,” he concluded. “Say, give Ken a call and tell him we need to speak with him about Jim Bell.” He paused, at a loss for words. “Though I guess with the snow, he’ll probably cancel.” Gus’s answering machine clicked and reset itself on the kitchen counter. The sound disturbed the empty stillness of the place, waking Midnight. The black cat flicked her tail and went back to sleep. The front door to the inn was still locked from overnight.
