“It won’t take me a minute to get my luggage,” said Francine, moving away.
Penny was none too pleased to know that the girl reporter would make her headquarters at the Downey Inn. Her face must have mirrored her misgiving, for Mrs. Downey said apologetically:
“Business hasn’t been any too good this season. I have to pick up an extra tourist whenever I can.”
“Of course,” agreed Penny hastily. “One can’t run a hotel without guests.”
“I do believe Jake has snared another victim,” Mrs. Downey laughed. “That woman with the bleached hair.”
“And who is Jake?” inquired Penny.
Mrs. Downey nodded her head toward a spry man with leathery skin who was talking with Maxine Miller.
“He does odd jobs for me at the Inn,” she explained. “When he has no other occupation he tries to entice guests into our den.”
“You make it sound like a very wicked business,” chuckled Penny.
“Since the Fergus hotel was built it’s become a struggle, to the death,” replied Mrs. Downey soberly. “I truly believe this will be my last year at Pine Top.”