"Accident? That's a peck of bullshit! The bitch cut his rope so she could grab Donald. She's not fooling me." Then she thought about it a minute, and calmed down. "Don't sweat it, Pop. I won't get any blood on your carpet or bother any of the other guests. It's just between Donald and me. I should have known better that a jerk like Donald could pass up a free bounce in the bunk-the bastard." She glared at Dean, and Fred. "Men. You're all alike. But I'll be real generous and let the nutty bitch self-destruct. Okay?" Her smile lit up the room. Dean couldn't help but return it.
"Edith Shipton doesn't have a chance against you," he replied. "But-"
"No 'buts.' I'll be a good little girl and keep it quiet. You'll never even hear him scream when I cut his balls off." She grinned. "I'll gag him and mop up the blood, too. Deal?" Dean looked unconvinced. She continued. "Look, my parents even rented the hall. If I gave the bastard the boot now, like he deserves, my old man would have my hide. I'm here to protect my family's financial investment."
"I can put you up on the second floor, in the corner," Fred offered before Dean could make a decision.
"Don't bother. Just don't tell the Iceman I cometh when he shows up. I want to surprise him. And don't let him escape! No separate room needed, I'll bunk with deceiving Mr. Donald Ryland and make sure that hissy butch doesn't jump his bones or she'll land on me." Then she added, "Don't worry about two singles sharing a room and having illicit sex before marriage and all that shit. It'll be a long damn time before that bastard lays a finger on this gal without getting even more of his body parts severed!"
Dean shook his head in resignation. "Have you ever tried working for a collection agency? I bet you'd be great at it."
"Ryland's room is this way," Fred offered, leading the petite guest down the hall.
Dean sighed. "I suppose letting someone into a guest's room is against a bunch of innkeeper laws but considering the circumstances, I'll stick my neck out." He picked up her bags and followed the pair to the small room.
"Nice and cozy," she commented, bouncing the bed, and then added, "I suppose Bird Song is a tree-hugger-type joint and you don't let a person smoke here."
"Sorry," Dean said. "Outside only."
She gave a groan, but then smiled again. "By the way, you can bill the bastard for a double now. I suppose you should have been billing him that way all along, if this is where he's been corking the widow." She turned and began pushing them out of the room and closing the door. "Thanks, guys. Remember now, mums the word. I want to play jack-in-the-box and pop out of the closet."