Read Online All Natural Murder by Staci McLaughlin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Staci McLaughlin
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octopus body, creating a squishy tearing sound that made my stomach roil.
“Need any help with lunch?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.
“I’m sure I can find you something to do.” She set the knife down and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “This octopus has almost gotten the best of me. I’ve hacked it up so much that I’m worried I won’t have enough for the guests. So unfortunate. I really wanted you to try this recipe.”
My spirits lifted as the threat of octopus for lunch vanished, but I managed not to smile. “Maybe next time.” Guess I’d have to stop in town for some yummy, fat-filled fast food.
“Good thing I saved that natto from yesterday,” Zennia said.
Oh, right, that. “Good thing,” I muttered. I scanned the kitchen, wanting to change the subject before she suggested I try the natto right now. “How about I whip up a salad for everyone?”
“Great idea. I picked the tomatoes and cucumbers this morning.” She placed the octopus parts in a large pot boiling on the stove.
I grabbed a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer and a chef’s knife from the wood block. “Where do you buy octopus anyway? I used to see it all the time at the grocery stores in the Bay Area, but never up here.”
“I buy all my seafood from Eduardo. He catches everything fresh, then drives his truck over the hill and sells it at the junction.”
The knife almost sliced my thumb, rather than the lettuce, as I thought about what she had said. “You buy your fish from the back of a truck? In this heat?”
Zennia laughed as she placed a new bowl on the counter and poured olive oil in it. “You make it sound so seedy. Eduardo is licensed, and I like buying local food to help the local economy. Plus, I don’t have to feel guilty about buying from large companies who are depleting our ocean’s fish supply.”
No, instead she could feel guilty when she accidentally poisoned a guest with overheated, tentacled sea life.
“If you say so. Do we still have just the three guests?”
Zennia added a splash of red-wine vinegar to the bowl. “For now, but every cabin is reserved this weekend.”
I opened the cabinet door over the counter and removed three salad bowls. After some slicing and dicing, I assembled the salads and set them on the kitchen table to await delivery to the dining room. Guests knew that lunch was served anytime after twelve, and people generally showed up right on time, probably to get the meal out of the way so they could enjoy their afternoon.
The rooster clock on the wall showed one minute to twelve, so I stepped into the hall and poked my head into the dining room. Sure enough, Crusher sat at one table while the Bickersons occupied another. As usual, the two sat in silence, each staring at the wall over the other’s shoulder. I wondered which one had slept on the couch. I sure hoped they weren’t here to reconcile their marriage. If so, the plan had failed.
I pulled my head back and returned to the kitchen, where I drizzled Zennia’s tofu-based ranch dressing on each salad before taking two bowls to the Bickersons. They nodded their thanks while managing to not look at each other, and I slipped out to grab the last salad bowl.
As I approached Crusher’s table, I tried to think of some way to talk to him after the incident in his cabin, but he saved me the trouble.
“Hey, there, gorgeous,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
I almost checked behind me to see if a supermodel had shown up, but apparently he was talking to me. Guess he’d forgotten I was a potential spy.
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his Grave Digger T-shirt, and lifted one boot-clad foot onto the neighboring chair. “Hope I didn’t scare you back in my cabin. In my kind of business, you can’t be too careful. Everyone knows I’m making a name for myself, and they want to know how I’m doing it.”
I set the salad bowl on the table and wiped my
“Need any help with lunch?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.
“I’m sure I can find you something to do.” She set the knife down and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “This octopus has almost gotten the best of me. I’ve hacked it up so much that I’m worried I won’t have enough for the guests. So unfortunate. I really wanted you to try this recipe.”
My spirits lifted as the threat of octopus for lunch vanished, but I managed not to smile. “Maybe next time.” Guess I’d have to stop in town for some yummy, fat-filled fast food.
“Good thing I saved that natto from yesterday,” Zennia said.
Oh, right, that. “Good thing,” I muttered. I scanned the kitchen, wanting to change the subject before she suggested I try the natto right now. “How about I whip up a salad for everyone?”
“Great idea. I picked the tomatoes and cucumbers this morning.” She placed the octopus parts in a large pot boiling on the stove.
I grabbed a head of lettuce out of the crisper drawer and a chef’s knife from the wood block. “Where do you buy octopus anyway? I used to see it all the time at the grocery stores in the Bay Area, but never up here.”
“I buy all my seafood from Eduardo. He catches everything fresh, then drives his truck over the hill and sells it at the junction.”
The knife almost sliced my thumb, rather than the lettuce, as I thought about what she had said. “You buy your fish from the back of a truck? In this heat?”
Zennia laughed as she placed a new bowl on the counter and poured olive oil in it. “You make it sound so seedy. Eduardo is licensed, and I like buying local food to help the local economy. Plus, I don’t have to feel guilty about buying from large companies who are depleting our ocean’s fish supply.”
No, instead she could feel guilty when she accidentally poisoned a guest with overheated, tentacled sea life.
“If you say so. Do we still have just the three guests?”
Zennia added a splash of red-wine vinegar to the bowl. “For now, but every cabin is reserved this weekend.”
I opened the cabinet door over the counter and removed three salad bowls. After some slicing and dicing, I assembled the salads and set them on the kitchen table to await delivery to the dining room. Guests knew that lunch was served anytime after twelve, and people generally showed up right on time, probably to get the meal out of the way so they could enjoy their afternoon.
The rooster clock on the wall showed one minute to twelve, so I stepped into the hall and poked my head into the dining room. Sure enough, Crusher sat at one table while the Bickersons occupied another. As usual, the two sat in silence, each staring at the wall over the other’s shoulder. I wondered which one had slept on the couch. I sure hoped they weren’t here to reconcile their marriage. If so, the plan had failed.
I pulled my head back and returned to the kitchen, where I drizzled Zennia’s tofu-based ranch dressing on each salad before taking two bowls to the Bickersons. They nodded their thanks while managing to not look at each other, and I slipped out to grab the last salad bowl.
As I approached Crusher’s table, I tried to think of some way to talk to him after the incident in his cabin, but he saved me the trouble.
“Hey, there, gorgeous,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
I almost checked behind me to see if a supermodel had shown up, but apparently he was talking to me. Guess he’d forgotten I was a potential spy.
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his Grave Digger T-shirt, and lifted one boot-clad foot onto the neighboring chair. “Hope I didn’t scare you back in my cabin. In my kind of business, you can’t be too careful. Everyone knows I’m making a name for myself, and they want to know how I’m doing it.”
I set the salad bowl on the table and wiped my
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