Read Online Death of a Chocolate Cheater: A Food Festival Mystery by Penny Pike - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Penny Pike
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“Must a’ shlipped on a wet spot.”
“What were you trying to do? Stand on the table?” Jake asked.
She shrugged. “I just wanted to make an announshment.”
“Well, next time don’t try to stand on a table in heels,” Jake admonished.
“How else was I ’posed to get everyone’s attenshun?” She swung her feet onto a chair, using it as a step down from the tabletop. She swayed precariously on her perch.
“Well, you’ve got their attention now,” Jake said. “Why don’t you come down and make your announcement? It’s a lot safer.”
As Jake reached to help Polly down, Reina Patel came rushing up, her dark eyebrows pinched in a frown. “What happened? What’s going on? Get her off the table this instant!”
“Calm down, Reina.” Polly leaned into Jake’s strong arms. “I just got a little dizshy. I’m fine, but I could use a drink.” She winked at Jake.
He took Polly by the waist and guided her feet to the floor. Polly’s hands lingered on Jake’s arms a few seconds too long for my liking before she brushed off her gown and touched the back of her French twist. She snatched up a half-empty glass of wine from a nearby table and downed it. “Great party, Reina.”
Reina reached for Polly’s free hand. “I think you need to come with me—”
Polly cut her off and yanked her hand away. “Wait a sec. I wanna tell everyone who I’m gonna vote for tomorrow so they can all relaxsh.”
The crowd hushed, waiting to hear what Polly was about to say. Before she could speak again, Reina took her by the arm, more forcefully this time.
“Come on, Polly. You need to get your beauty rest before the big day tomorrow. Besides, we don’t want to spoil the fun for everyone tonight.”
Polly blinked slowly, then stared at Reina as if just recognizing her. “Ooookay,” Polly said, nodding like a bobblehead doll.
Reina relaxed her grip and led the intoxicated woman toward the doors. Polly stumbled a couple of times along the way, tripping over her long gown. I noticed the videographer a few feet away, taping the scene, and wondered if this was something Reina wanted to capture on tape.
“J.C.!” Reina snapped. She swiped her fingertips across her throat, signaling “cut” so he’d stop taping. “Help me, would you?” The twentysomething man named J.C. lowered the recorder and took Polly’s other arm.
“I’m fine! I jus’ need another drink,” Polly mumbled before she and her two escorts disappeared behind the exit doors.
“Where are they taking her?” Aunt Abby whispered to me.
I shrugged. “They’re probably sending her home in a cab.”
“Wow,” Dillon said, as the party guests slowly resumed their conversations. “She’s totally wasted! But I guess that’s normal for her. I saw a bunch of selfies on her Facebook page, and she looked shit-faced in about half of them. Plus, I overheard some people talking about her drinking problem.”
“What did they say?” I asked Dillon.
He shrugged. “Something about how much she was drinking tonight and how her glass was never empty.”
“I wonder how she expects to judge the contest with the hangover she’s sure to have tomorrow,” Aunt Abby said.
“It sounded like she’s already made up her mind,” I answered. “And we haven’t even tasted the entries yet.”
Aunt Abby glanced at Jake. “She’ll probably choose your cream puffs, Jake.”
Jake shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be your whoopie pies, Abby.”
“They’re both fantastic,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Actually, I don’t think it’s going to be either one of you,” Dillon interrupted.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve been doing a little recon,” Dillon said.
“Recon?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you know, surveillance. I wanted to see if I could get a line on the other judges—Simon Van Houten and Isabel Lau. Figure out their tastes.”
I perked up. “You mean, you’ve been spying on them.”
Aunt Abby’s eyes widened. “What
“What were you trying to do? Stand on the table?” Jake asked.
She shrugged. “I just wanted to make an announshment.”
“Well, next time don’t try to stand on a table in heels,” Jake admonished.
“How else was I ’posed to get everyone’s attenshun?” She swung her feet onto a chair, using it as a step down from the tabletop. She swayed precariously on her perch.
“Well, you’ve got their attention now,” Jake said. “Why don’t you come down and make your announcement? It’s a lot safer.”
As Jake reached to help Polly down, Reina Patel came rushing up, her dark eyebrows pinched in a frown. “What happened? What’s going on? Get her off the table this instant!”
“Calm down, Reina.” Polly leaned into Jake’s strong arms. “I just got a little dizshy. I’m fine, but I could use a drink.” She winked at Jake.
He took Polly by the waist and guided her feet to the floor. Polly’s hands lingered on Jake’s arms a few seconds too long for my liking before she brushed off her gown and touched the back of her French twist. She snatched up a half-empty glass of wine from a nearby table and downed it. “Great party, Reina.”
Reina reached for Polly’s free hand. “I think you need to come with me—”
Polly cut her off and yanked her hand away. “Wait a sec. I wanna tell everyone who I’m gonna vote for tomorrow so they can all relaxsh.”
The crowd hushed, waiting to hear what Polly was about to say. Before she could speak again, Reina took her by the arm, more forcefully this time.
“Come on, Polly. You need to get your beauty rest before the big day tomorrow. Besides, we don’t want to spoil the fun for everyone tonight.”
Polly blinked slowly, then stared at Reina as if just recognizing her. “Ooookay,” Polly said, nodding like a bobblehead doll.
Reina relaxed her grip and led the intoxicated woman toward the doors. Polly stumbled a couple of times along the way, tripping over her long gown. I noticed the videographer a few feet away, taping the scene, and wondered if this was something Reina wanted to capture on tape.
“J.C.!” Reina snapped. She swiped her fingertips across her throat, signaling “cut” so he’d stop taping. “Help me, would you?” The twentysomething man named J.C. lowered the recorder and took Polly’s other arm.
“I’m fine! I jus’ need another drink,” Polly mumbled before she and her two escorts disappeared behind the exit doors.
“Where are they taking her?” Aunt Abby whispered to me.
I shrugged. “They’re probably sending her home in a cab.”
“Wow,” Dillon said, as the party guests slowly resumed their conversations. “She’s totally wasted! But I guess that’s normal for her. I saw a bunch of selfies on her Facebook page, and she looked shit-faced in about half of them. Plus, I overheard some people talking about her drinking problem.”
“What did they say?” I asked Dillon.
He shrugged. “Something about how much she was drinking tonight and how her glass was never empty.”
“I wonder how she expects to judge the contest with the hangover she’s sure to have tomorrow,” Aunt Abby said.
“It sounded like she’s already made up her mind,” I answered. “And we haven’t even tasted the entries yet.”
Aunt Abby glanced at Jake. “She’ll probably choose your cream puffs, Jake.”
Jake shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be your whoopie pies, Abby.”
“They’re both fantastic,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Actually, I don’t think it’s going to be either one of you,” Dillon interrupted.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve been doing a little recon,” Dillon said.
“Recon?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you know, surveillance. I wanted to see if I could get a line on the other judges—Simon Van Houten and Isabel Lau. Figure out their tastes.”
I perked up. “You mean, you’ve been spying on them.”
Aunt Abby’s eyes widened. “What
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