Read Online A Catered Fourth of July by Isis Crawford - Free Book Online

him the list,” Bernie shot back. “Jeez.” She took out the list that she, her sister, her dad, and Clyde had compiled earlier in the evening and handed it to Brandon. “We’re concentrating on these people. We’re convinced that somewhere in here is the person who wanted Jack Devlin dead.”
    â€œOr maimed,” Libby said.
    â€œWhat difference does it make? No matter what the intention was, the result was the same,” Bernie snapped. “A dead Jack Devlin.”
    Libby put up both her hands. “So-r-ry.”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do with this?” Brandon asked, waving the paper in the air.
    â€œI want you to tell me who you think the most likely candidates are,” Bernie told him.
    â€œYou want me to rank them or something?” Brandon inquired.
    Bernie nodded. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.”
    â€œWhat if these people don’t pan out?” Marvin asked.
    â€œThen we’ll broaden our search,” Libby informed him.
    Marvin drummed his fingers on the bar. “To whom?”
    Libby noticed that he was beginning to slur his words. “To the other people who were there.”
    Brandon drank the rest of his soda. “Why are you asking me to do this?”
    Bernie laughed. “Simple. Because you know everything that goes on in this town.”
    Brandon sniffed. “You’re saying that I’m the gossip king?”
    â€œNo, Brandon. I’m saying you’re a bartender and bartenders, like hairdressers, know everything.”
    â€œIt’s true. I do.” He took a pen from the side of the register and began putting numbers next to names. “This is kind of fun,” he told Bernie and Libby when he was through.
    Marvin looked woeful. He hiccupped again. “I don’t feel so well,” he mumbled.
    â€œSomehow, I’m not surprised,” Libby told him. “What did you have to eat today besides the pretzels?”
    Marvin looked at her. “Not much,” he managed to get out before he did a face plant onto the bar.
    Brandon looked at Marvin and shook his head. “I haven’t seen one of those for quite a while.”
    â€œMe either,” Bernie said.
    Brandon pointed to Marvin who was lying there with his mouth open. “I guess he doesn’t have much of a tolerance for alcohol.”
    â€œObviously,” Libby said.
    Marvin began to snore. Loudly.
    â€œI’ll tell you one thing,” Brandon said. “He’s not going to be a happy camper when he wakes up tomorrow morning.”
    â€œOn that,” Bernie said, “I think we all can agree.”
    â€œAnd,” Brandon added, stating the obvious, “he’s not going to be fun to carry out and get into his car.”

Chapter 8
    B y five o’clock the next morning the temperature had already climbed to seventy degrees. The air-conditioning was going full bore in the kitchen of A Little Taste of Heaven, but it was no match for the heat the ovens were throwing off. Even the fans Bernie had set up weren’t having much of an effect. They were just moving the hot air around. Both Libby and Bernie were dressed in shorts, tank tops, and flip-flops, but that wasn’t helping, either.
    â€œI’m going to get heat stroke and die,” Libby moaned as she rolled out the pie crusts for the lemon meringue pies she was making.
    â€œYou can do that after you finish the pies,” Bernie informed her while she measured out ingredients for the red velvet cupcakes they were featuring that day.
    â€œThanks.” Libby took a sip of the iced coffee she’d made the night before.
    Bernie paused to pin a stray lock of hair off her neck. “That’s me, compassionate to a fault. By the way, have you thought of getting a pedicure? It is the summer and you are wearing sandals.”
    Libby frowned. “I thought we agreed that my feet were not up for discussion. I don’t like nail