Fall has fallen upon Judith McMonigle Flynn, leaving her Hillside Manor nearly devoid of guests. And what better cure for the off-season blahs than a brief bout of B&B sifting for a friend amid the quiet rustic splendor of secluded Chavez Island? Judith and cousin Renie both are more than ready for some relaxation. But their peace goes to pieces when Renie conks an odious interloping blowhard on the noggin with a heavy china dish-and, moments later, the woozy lout takes a fatal tumble down an inconvenient staircase. Judith suspects that death by dinnerware was not the real cause of this fellow's demise. But to prove her cantankerous cuz innocent, she'll have to uncover the real killer from among the motley island crew. And that could pile a lot more nastiness on Judith's plate than the harried bed-and-breakfast hostess can consume in one sitting!

"Naturally," Judith said to Joe as he opened a can of beer, "Mother is against me going. That should settle it, shouldn't it? I mean, she's so old and I worry that her memory is slipping. I'd be afraid to leave her alone."

Joe settled back in his captain's chair and took a big sip of beer. "You've left her before. I'm here, and so are the Rankerses. Carl and Arlene always take good care of your mother. As for her memory, I haven't noticed it being any worse than it ever was.'

"That's because you almost never talk to her," Judith said, not without a trace of asperity. The bitterness between Gertrude and Joe was long-standing, a wound that had never healed after his alcohol-induced elopement with his first wife.

"She doesn't want to talk to me," Joe replied in a calm voice. "In fact, she'd rather talk to Herself. I mean to Vivian. Hey," Joe went on, his round, slightly florid face brightening, "Vivian could help out, too. She seems to like the old bat."

"Don't call my mother an old bat," Judith snapped, though she realized that her anger actually stemmed from the reference to Joe's first wife, who had moved into the neighborhood six months earlier.

Joe picked up the evening newspaper and flipped to the sports page. 'Okay, it was just a thought."

Repenting her sharp words, Judith sat down across the table from Joe. "It's not just Mother that worries me--it's you. Would you manage without me?"

Joe's green eyes regarded Judith over the top of the sports section. "Sure. I can cook, remember?'

Judith did. Joe was an excellent cook, who often pre pared the evening meals, at least on weekends. "I'd be gone a week," Judith persisted, wishing Joe would say he couldn't live without her. "Arlene and Carl would have to take over the B&B."

"They've done it before. What's the problem, especially now that Carl's retired?" This time, Joe didn't look up from the newspaper.

The Rankerses were admirable stand-ins. Arlene and Judith shared Hillside Manor's catering arm. Not only were Carl and Arlene good friends and wonderful neighbors, but they had a knack for dealing with people, particularly Judith's mother.

"I hate to bother them,' Judith murmured. The least Joe could do was put up a token argument for keeping her at his side- "I'm going to have to borrow their car until I get mine back- The insurance company said it might take until Friday to assess the damages. They didn't get it towed away until just before five."

"If you aren't here, you won't need a car," Joe pointed out, turning the page.

"So how will I get to Chavez Island?" The triumphant note in Judith's voice indicated that she'd scored a point in her favor.

"I could drive you up to the ferry in the MG. If the island is as small as you say it is, why would you need a car? Anyway, wouldn't your old high-school chum leave her car?"

Judith sighed. 'I suppose." Fidgeting in the chair, she frowned at the newspaper, which hid her husband's face. "Won't you miss me?"

"Of course." Joe appeared to be finishing an article. At last, he put the sports section aside. Gold flecks danced in his green eyes. Magic eyes, Judith called them, full of mischief even in middle age. Thirty years earlier, she had fallen hopelessly in love with the red hair, the trim physique, the engaging grin, the magic eyes. Though the red hair had thinned and was turning gray, and a hint of a paunch flawed the physique, the grin and the eyes were still intact. So was the mischief. And that was what worried Judith most.

"A lot?" Judith's voice was uncharacteristically meek.

"A whole lot." Joe's gaze was steady as he reached across the table to caress her cheek. "But the truth is, I've got a training session coming...

Seattle native MARY RICHARDSON DAHEIM began reading mysteries when she was seven. She started writing them when she was eleven, but her career as a published novelist didn't begin until much later. After graduating from the University of Washington's School of Communications, Daheim worked on small-town newspapers and in corporate public relations. Her goal to write fiction remained in place, however, and she began publishing the Bed-and-Breakfast series in 1991, adding the Alpine mysteries a year later. She is married to David Daheim, and the couple lives in Seattle. They have three grown daughters - Barbara, Katherine, and Magdalen. Daheim received the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 2000 Achievement Award "for distinguished professional achievement and for enhancing the stature of the Northwest literary community."