Menu for Murder - a scene from the book
Here's a teaser from part of Chapter One of Menu for Murder. I hope you enjoy it. To find out what happened before or what comes after, you'll have to read the full book.
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Thankfully, the last hour had kept
me galloping from guest to guest so I couldn’t dwell on why my memory for
peculiar details amused everyone but me. Remembering facts about people hadn’t
done me much good through school but, so far, had kept me working in the
restaurant business.
Now, I scouted the perimeter
looking for stray plates and overflowing ashtrays, crinkling my nose at the
smell of leftover cigars. In the semi-darkness I took a wrong turn and jumped
at the forlorn howl of a coyote somewhere nearby, which caused me to trip over
my own feet and drop my full tray. The fact that nothing broke provided little
consolation, since I had to crawl around on my hands and knees picking up
saliva-coated cigar butts, and scout under the shrubs for a missing fork.
With my head halfway under a Palo
Verde tree, trying to avoid poking out my eye with one of its thorny branches,
I heard raised voices and approaching footsteps crunching on the gravel
pathway. Not wanting to get into trouble for dropping the tray, I remained
crouched behind the bushes like a timid cottontail rabbit hoping to avoid
discovery.
The pungent aroma of cigar smoke
tickled my nose and I squelched the urge to sneeze.
“You’re overdue on the payment,”
hissed a voice I recognized as the mayor’s.
“I’ve given you all I can,” whined
the other man.
“Dig deeper. If I don’t get my
money by tomorrow, I’ll broadcast the truth about you. We’ll see how your happy
little family feels about that.”
“You’re killing me,” moaned the
other man.
The tiny hairs on my arms raised as
the tension crackled through the air. I nibbled a cuticle before I remembered
dirt crusted my hands.
“Ha, better you than me. Now I must
see my other guests off.”
With the last comment, heavy
footsteps marched away hurriedly, and I risked a peek between the branches. A
cigar smokestack trailed in the mayor’s wake.
The other man departed with slow
shuffling footfalls. I stretched my neck around the edge of the shrub and saw
the tall, lanky silhouette of Trent Hayworth, the chairman of the local women’s
shelter. Rumor had it the construction of the new shelter had stalled recently
due to lack of funds. I now knew into whose pocket those funds disappeared, and
that helped explain the mansion the mayor occupied on a small-town government
salary.
I waited until he was out of sight,
brushed myself off, and tiptoed back to the house, all thoughts of the tray
forgotten. As I slipped in the back door to the kitchen I ran headlong into
Tami Lynn. It was at her request that the soles of my shoes were worn out when
I could have been watching the today’s special value on television.
I assumed she and the mayor were an
“item,” but that didn’t seem to stop him from flirting with every woman within
arm’s reach. I don’t know why she requested me for this event since I’d waited
on her and the mayor only a few times. Maybe it was the fact that they were the
only guests from the restaurant I hadn’t spilled anything on... yet.
Feeling self-conscious, I looked
down at myself, then at the petite Tami Lynn, standing a good four inches below
my five-foot-nine-inch frame. The right side of my formerly white shirt was
decorated with splotches from three different kinds of red wine; the left side
a splash of Pinot Grigio and some kind of mustard-looking stain from the second
round of appetizers. Add to that ensemble the dirt which marked the knees of my
pants from crawling around in the bushes. Looks like I would have a wild date
later on with the stain spray.
Tami Lynn, with her blonde hair
perfectly coifed, balanced delicately in a pair of red-soled shoes, the kind
women love to show off. Her skin-tight designer cocktail dress left little to
the imagination. Her breasts were pushed so high they almost touched her chin.
She held out an envelope. “You did
a surprisingly good job tonight. Here’s your pay and a little something extra
from me. Make sure you stay and help clean up.”
“Thank you so much. I think the
party went well,” I said temporarily mesmerized by the jewels on her fingers.
“Believe me, the fun is only
getting started.” With that she gave me a little ta-ta wave with her fingertips
and sashayed off to talk to a cluster of Scottsdale princesses who stood
gossiping in the corner like ladies-in-waiting for the queen.
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Happy Trails
Leslie
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