Read Online A Fatal Twist of Lemon by Patrice Greenwood - Free Book Online

tablecloth and napkins—my mother’s lace—that we had used in the dining parlor.
    â€œThat’s strange,” I said. “There’s a napkin missing.”
    â€œMaybe it’s in with these,” Nat said.
    We looked through everything again. One napkin from the dining set was missing. I checked the washer and dryer, then around beside and behind them. No luck.
    â€œMaybe someone snuck some scones home in it,” Nat said.
    I laughed and let it go, reaching for more napkins to fold. Nat began taking chores away from me, gently bullying me to go up to my office and answer the rest of my calls. I finally gave in and did so, reassuring first Manny and then Katie that everything was all right at the tearoom.
    â€œI saw all those emergency vehicles last night,” Katie said, sounding concerned. “I would have come over, but I had guests arriving and one of them got in late—”
    â€œThanks, Katie, but I’m glad you didn’t come,” I said. “It was pretty chaotic.”
    â€œYou poor dear. I wish I could help somehow.”
    I picked up the pile of message slips and let them sift back to my desk like falling leaves. My gaze fell on the place cards I’d collected from the dining parlor and left on my desk. “Well, actually, you could clear something up for me, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œOf course. What is it?”
    â€œYou were still in the dining parlor when I left after the tea,” I said, my pulse speeding up a little at the memory.
    â€œYes, I was talking to poor Sylvia.”
    â€œWhat about?”
    â€œOh, just about the Trust. You know how she likes to go on.”
    â€œDo you remember who else was in the room?”
    â€œSylvia’s daughter and Vince. They were talking about a gallery opening, I think.”
    â€œHis gallery?”
    â€œNo, no. He’s just getting started, he won’t be ready to open for a while. I think they were talking about an opening this weekend, over on Canyon Road.”
    â€œAnd they were both still there when you left?”
    â€œYes. So was Sylvia.”
    â€œI see. Thanks.”
    â€œThe detective asked me if I thought either of them would have a reason to kill Sylvia. Can you imagine?”
    â€œDetective Aragón? He spoke to you already?”
    â€œYes, he was here this morning.”
    I frowned, wondering why he hadn’t stopped by the tearoom if he was in the neighborhood calling on Vince and Katie. “What else did he ask you?”
    â€œWell … I’m sure those kinds of questions are just routine—”
    â€œHe asked you if I had a reason to kill her.”
    â€œI told him no, of course.”
    â€œThanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
    â€œSure thing. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
    â€œI will, thanks, Katie. Do come by tomorrow afternoon for the opening, if you have time.”
    â€œYes, I’m planning on it. I think I can drag Bob over for a little while, too. We don’t have any new guests arriving tomorrow.”
    â€œBring your guests, if they’d care to come.”
    â€œThat’s so sweet of you, Ellen! Thank you, I’ll let them know.”
    I sat musing for a while after we said goodbye, then glanced through the message slips to make sure I’d taken care of them all. The only call I hadn’t returned was the one from “someone named Willow.” I had a feeling that it was one of Santa Fe’s woo-woo types, and didn’t feel up to it at the moment, so I left that slip on my desk, tossed the rest, and went into to Kris’s office.
    â€œDo you have today’s reservation tally?” I asked her.
    She handed me three copies of a page printed from a spreadsheet. “Twenty-six.”
    I peered at the tally sheet and my heart sank. The tearoom could seat up to sixty at a time, and in order to break even we needed to keep it at least a third filled every