Page 80 of The Mystery Guest

Detective Stark unfolds the pocket square, then gingerly removes the silver lid of the honey pot, all without ever touching it with her fingers. A sweet, burnt odor instantly fills the room.

“It smells strange. The honey is off,” says Mr. Snow. “And it’s not quite the right color.”

“Because it’s not plain honey,” I say.

“Then what is it?” Mr. Snow asks as he looks back and forth between me and the detective.

“Honey mixed with another key ingredient,” I offer.

“What?” he asks.

“Household antifreeze,” says Detective Stark.

When I was a child, Gran and I watchedColumbowhile curled up on the couch. Gran used to love it when the murderer began to lie.

“Don’t you smell it, Molly?” she once said.

“I don’t smell anything,” I replied.

“I smell a rat,” she chimed in her singsong voice.

“We must trap it, quickly!” I was deeply concerned that a new pestilence had invaded our apartment.

“I don’t mean it literally, Molly. I mean the murderer onColumbo.Watch her behavior. Can you see how she’s lying? How she’s trying to cover everything up?”

The shifty eyes. The changing details. The desire for secrecy competing with the great need to have her criminal genius acknowledged. “Yes,” I said. “I see it now.”

“Watch what Columbo does next,” Gran replied. “Watch the way he lures the rat from its nest.”

“How?” I asked.

“With words. He baits the trap.”

It’s this memory that gives me the idea for what to do next.

The four of us are standing by the reception desk in the lobby—Mr. Snow, Lily, Detective Stark, and me. We have left Room 404. Detective Stark has just ordered three of her special agents to secure the evidence inside.

“Beulah’s not in her room, but she’s probably lurking nearby,” I say.

“The important thing is to take her by surprise,” Detective Stark advises.

“How?” Lily asks.

“We bait the trap,” I suggest. “We make an announcement about a free seminar on Mr. Grimthorpe.”

“Smart,” says Detective Stark.

I can’t quite believe she said that word, at least not in relation tome.

“We can plan that for tomorrow,” Mr. Snow offers.

“No. We do it now,” Stark says. “In fact,youdo it, Mr. Snow. You make the announcement on the hotel’s intercom, right away.”

Beads of sweat collect at Mr. Snow’s hairline. “We can’t create a seminar out of thin air. Event planning takes time.”

“I’m not asking for doilies and those damn finger sandwiches,” Stark says. “Just make the announcement. And be quick about it.”

Mr. Snow goes behind the reception desk, turns on the microphone, and speaks. “Calling all Regency Grand Hotel guests. This is a special announcement for J. D. Grimthorpe fans. There will be a free seminar on the life and times of the famous author to be held in the Grand Tearoom…” He pauses, covering the mic with his hand. “When?” he whispers to Stark.

---