Menu for Murder - a scene from the book

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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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