Read Online Murder After a Fashion by Grace Carroll - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Carroll
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teacher.”
“I thought you liked the one you had. You said he was some dramatic Italian guy.”
“He was, but he isn’t anymore. He was murdered last night.”
“No kidding.” Death didn’t freak out Jonathan. Not inhis line of work. He accepted it as part of life. Which is what we all should do.
“This dead chef matter. Nothing to do with you, is it?” he said.
“Well, actually…”
“Rita, don’t get involved if you can help it. You can’t risk another concussion.” He was referring to the time I fell off a ladder. Actually I was pushed by a woman who was later murdered, but that’s another story. “I’ll see you tonight then at six?”
I agreed and went back to the showroom. Dolce was dying to know what Jonathan wanted. I could tell by the way she was looking at me and sending signals by raising her eyebrows.
“Dinner tonight,” I said in an undertone as I passed her in the hall. She beamed at me. Probably imagining a six-course meal at the Blue Fox, when it was just going to be macaroni and cheese with a glass of iced tea in the cafeteria where you could almost imagine the woman behind the counter asking if you wanted fries with your angioplasty. That wasn’t a fair assessment. When you’re in a hospital, you want comfort food. And they delivered it.
Dinner with Jonathan in his white lab coat with his spiky sun-bleached hair, his broad shoulders and his sea blue eyes was always a treat no matter where it was. Compared to the no-nonsense detective who thought I might be a serial killer, Jonathan was warm and caring with the world’s greatest bedside manner. I was looking forward to seeing him again. I’d tell him I was actually fine. I’d say I knew nothing about Guido’s death. Of course, if he had any opinion about the cause of his death, I’d be all ears.
And then we could talk about Jonathan surfing at Santa Cruz or whether he’d found a new apartment. My aunt Alyce always told me to ask questions of people in general and men in particular to get them to talk about themselves. That’s what she did to land herself several husbands who never stopped talking until they expired or divorced my aunt.
Maybe I’d find out if Jonathan was dating anyone special. If not, I’d invite him to dinner again. That would give me the incentive I needed to learn to make something different. Something wonderful. Something easy. Maybe something Romanian. Just so it wasn’t pigs’ feet in aspic. Or maybe Jonathan would forget I owed him a dinner and he’d ask me out again.
On my way in to the cafeteria I stopped by the Admissions Department to see what I could find out about Guido’s case. I knew it was a long shot. Those admissions clerks are a closemouthed bunch, as I’d learned on another occasion when I needed information. Anticipating their questions this time, I said I was the niece of Guido Torcelli and I wanted to know what time he’d been brought in last night. I assumed an ambulance had brought him.
The woman stared at me for a long moment as if she might remember me from the last time I harassed her with my questions. Then she told me that information was not available.
“Even to family members?” I asked incredulously while I blinked rapidly as if ready to burst into tears.
“That is correct,” she said stiffly. “Unless you have a paper from the coroner giving you permission.”
“I do have one,” I said, “but I left it in the car. I wouldn’t ask, but my mother is broken up over this. She can’t let go.She doesn’t believe he’s dead.” The more I talked the more I threw myself into this fictional family drama. “It would help if she could see his body,” I said. “Otherwise she won’t be able to come to grips with it, you know?”
“That’s out of the question. No visitors are allowed in the morgue.”
I nodded as if I understood. I supposed that Jack could get into the morgue. He’d probably already been there, examined the body, reviewed the bullet
“I thought you liked the one you had. You said he was some dramatic Italian guy.”
“He was, but he isn’t anymore. He was murdered last night.”
“No kidding.” Death didn’t freak out Jonathan. Not inhis line of work. He accepted it as part of life. Which is what we all should do.
“This dead chef matter. Nothing to do with you, is it?” he said.
“Well, actually…”
“Rita, don’t get involved if you can help it. You can’t risk another concussion.” He was referring to the time I fell off a ladder. Actually I was pushed by a woman who was later murdered, but that’s another story. “I’ll see you tonight then at six?”
I agreed and went back to the showroom. Dolce was dying to know what Jonathan wanted. I could tell by the way she was looking at me and sending signals by raising her eyebrows.
“Dinner tonight,” I said in an undertone as I passed her in the hall. She beamed at me. Probably imagining a six-course meal at the Blue Fox, when it was just going to be macaroni and cheese with a glass of iced tea in the cafeteria where you could almost imagine the woman behind the counter asking if you wanted fries with your angioplasty. That wasn’t a fair assessment. When you’re in a hospital, you want comfort food. And they delivered it.
Dinner with Jonathan in his white lab coat with his spiky sun-bleached hair, his broad shoulders and his sea blue eyes was always a treat no matter where it was. Compared to the no-nonsense detective who thought I might be a serial killer, Jonathan was warm and caring with the world’s greatest bedside manner. I was looking forward to seeing him again. I’d tell him I was actually fine. I’d say I knew nothing about Guido’s death. Of course, if he had any opinion about the cause of his death, I’d be all ears.
And then we could talk about Jonathan surfing at Santa Cruz or whether he’d found a new apartment. My aunt Alyce always told me to ask questions of people in general and men in particular to get them to talk about themselves. That’s what she did to land herself several husbands who never stopped talking until they expired or divorced my aunt.
Maybe I’d find out if Jonathan was dating anyone special. If not, I’d invite him to dinner again. That would give me the incentive I needed to learn to make something different. Something wonderful. Something easy. Maybe something Romanian. Just so it wasn’t pigs’ feet in aspic. Or maybe Jonathan would forget I owed him a dinner and he’d ask me out again.
On my way in to the cafeteria I stopped by the Admissions Department to see what I could find out about Guido’s case. I knew it was a long shot. Those admissions clerks are a closemouthed bunch, as I’d learned on another occasion when I needed information. Anticipating their questions this time, I said I was the niece of Guido Torcelli and I wanted to know what time he’d been brought in last night. I assumed an ambulance had brought him.
The woman stared at me for a long moment as if she might remember me from the last time I harassed her with my questions. Then she told me that information was not available.
“Even to family members?” I asked incredulously while I blinked rapidly as if ready to burst into tears.
“That is correct,” she said stiffly. “Unless you have a paper from the coroner giving you permission.”
“I do have one,” I said, “but I left it in the car. I wouldn’t ask, but my mother is broken up over this. She can’t let go.She doesn’t believe he’s dead.” The more I talked the more I threw myself into this fictional family drama. “It would help if she could see his body,” I said. “Otherwise she won’t be able to come to grips with it, you know?”
“That’s out of the question. No visitors are allowed in the morgue.”
I nodded as if I understood. I supposed that Jack could get into the morgue. He’d probably already been there, examined the body, reviewed the bullet
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