Read Online Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) by Karen MacInerney - Free Book Online Page A

her local options are limited.”
    “I’m sure she’ll find her Prince Charming someday.” Agnes reached for another cracker and cut off a wedge of cheese. “She’s too cute not to!”
    “And you’re engaged,” Beryl said. “How did you two meet?”
    “John was my tenant, actually,” I said, smiling. I told her how he’d been renting the carriage house when I bought the inn, and that the relationship had developed as we’d gotten to know each other. It hadn’t been without hiccups, but I was excited to be sharing my life with such a wonderful man. “When are you getting married?” Beryl asked.
    “In September,” I told her. “We booked a resort on the beach in Florida, and they’re taking care of everything. I sent in the rest of the deposit a few weeks ago; I should probably call and confirm that they got it.”
    “How romantic.” Beryl gazed out at the water beyond the parlor window. “A beachside wedding.”
    “It sounds lovely … but I’m still curious about this body you found,” Agnes said, pulling the conversation back to poor Derek. “I heard he was in a boat. Was he just lying there? Had he hit his head or something?”
    “I did find him in a dinghy, but I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,” I said, glancing up at the clock. “I’d better get back in the kitchen and get dinner going. There are wine glasses in the buffet in the dining room if you need another for Matilda.”
    “Thanks, Natalie,” Agnes said. “Keep me posted on the case; it might be excellent source material for my book!”
    “Will do,” I said, and escaped to the kitchen before she could pepper me with unanswerable questions.
    The kitchen smelled deliciously of steaming pudding, and I inhaled the comforting scent as I cleaned new potatoes for the pot and whipped up a quick vinaigrette for the salad. The fish was already in little packets; I arranged them on a tray, then checked the timer on the pudding; it only had a few minutes to go. I’d make the foamy sauce at the last minute, I decided; it didn’t keep very well, so it was best to wait.
    When I’d finished washing the lettuce leaves and slicing up radishes and tomatoes, my mind turned away from the gruesome discovery of this morning to the more pleasant topic of the wedding. It was going to be small; Charlene was coming, as were Gwen and my sister, along with John’s mother and a few folks from the island. We’d wanted to keep it simple, but part of me wished we were having it here on the island so that everyone in our lives could attend. John had wanted to go away to minimize the workload on me. When I’d talked about keeping it on the island, he’d hugged me and explained his reasoning. “You’ll want to cater everything, you’ll be cleaning the guest rooms, worried about making breakfast … I want you to get away from everything and take a break!” I appreciated the thought, but felt a tug of wistfulness. I pulled out the computer and sent a quick e-mail to the resort, just to make sure they’d gotten the deposit check, then busied myself putting the rest of dinner together.
    _____
    “It’s hard to believe it was only this morning you were picking blueberries, isn’t it?” John asked as he put the last dish into the dishwasher later that evening. Matilda had stayed for dinner, and the trout and the steamed pudding had been a big hit. Even Catherine had had a second helping of the pudding, despite her aversion to carbohydrates in any form other than a celery stick. The melding of the blueberries with the moist pudding, topped off with the butterscotch flavored sauce, was irresistible. The fish had been popular, too: flaky and flavorful.
    “I know,” I said. “Any word on Derek’s death?”
    “Nothing yet,” he replied, “but I’m worried.”
    I glanced up from the cup of tea I was nursing at our big pine farm table. If I hadn’t put the pudding in the fridge, I’d be on my fourth slice about now; the moist,