Read Online Murder Al Dente: A Southern Pasta Shop Mystery (Southern Pasta Shop Mysteries Book 1) by Jennifer L. Hart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer L. Hart
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pantry put my vanity (or lack thereof) into perspective.
" Andrea," Jones, not even winded, slowed to a walk and fell into step beside me. Roofus growled low and threatening under his breath.
I tugged on the leash to get the disgruntled old dog 's attention off Jones. "Big faker. Don't worry—he won't bite." I hoped.
Crouching down, Jones offered Roofus his hand, palm up. The beagle sniffed and then pulled back with a slitty-eyed scowl, as though the man's scent had confirmed his suspicions somehow. "Grrrr…"
" He doesn't like you," I told Jones. "Animals can sense evil, you know."
" I also make babies cry," Jones said. "It's a gift from the dark prince no doubt."
" Don't say that too loud around here, or you'll be dunked in the creek faster than you can say, "Bob's your uncle." Speaking of family… "Hey. How's everything going with your family?" Sheesh, could I sound more ridiculously stupid?
Jones grinned at me but answered my trite question. "The drama has settled down a little. Both Lizzy and her mother downed some Valium and were still sleeping when I left."
" Oh. Well that's good, I guess. After the shock and everything." Stupid had settled in to roost. I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, I'm not up to my usual verbal sparring weight today."
" Understandable," Jones murmured. "Quite the homecoming for us both."
I desperately wanted to ask him if he 'd seen, or maybe even erased the words written in the flour, but couldn't find a casual way to bring it up. Not that I'd been doing a great job with subtle so far. Some people have a gift for gab. I have a gift for blather. "So, I guess you're sticking around here for a little while?"
Good, that sounded only mildly interested and not like a crazy women cleaving to her last thread of sanity.
Jones grinned down at me. "At least until after the wedding. It's been a long time since I've spent time with my father and sister, and I promised to photograph for them."
" They're lucky to have you." Heat crept up my face. To cover I asked, "Do you think the police have any suspects?"
" Other than me, you mean." His tone was flat.
Gripping his arm I pulled him to a stop. Roofus cast us both a disgusted look and flopped down for a mid-stroll nap. "It's not about you, other than that they don't know you. You're an outsider and an easy mark. Try not to take it personally."
" Is there any way to not take personally the fact that half the town thinks I'm guilty of killing a man I'd never laid eyes on before yesterday?"
" Look, I alibied you out to Detective Brown. I saw you, taking pictures of the crowd—" my words cut off as Jones and I looked at each other. Pictures, as in photographic evidence of who was and was not outside at the time Chef Farnsworth was being stabbed to death.
" We should probably look at them first, make sure there's something there before disturbing the detective," I reasoned.
" I'm scheduled to have brunch with my father and a few of his business associates in about an hour. This afternoon perhaps?"
Great, plenty of time to doll myself up, check on my car , and drop the bomb on Pops and Aunt Cecily, although chances were they already knew about me discovering the body. Plus, I had time to work out exactly how to go about asking Jones if he'd tampered with a police investigation.
The trail had looped back around to the cul-de-sac. "This is my stop. I'll see you later then?"
" I'll pick you up at the pasta shop."
" Don't look at those pictures without me," I called to his retreating form.
" Bossy!" Jones turned and winked at me. "I like that."
Pops and his Lincoln were gone by the time Roofus and I got back to the house. After doling out a hearty scoop of Kibbles and Bits for the dog, I darted upstairs and dove into the shower. The ancient pipes rattled, and I hopped around under the icy spray.
" Ah, oo, eeee!" To the casual observer I might have been speaking in tongues, but this vowel sound-off was par for the course when showering at Pop's house.
" Andrea," Jones, not even winded, slowed to a walk and fell into step beside me. Roofus growled low and threatening under his breath.
I tugged on the leash to get the disgruntled old dog 's attention off Jones. "Big faker. Don't worry—he won't bite." I hoped.
Crouching down, Jones offered Roofus his hand, palm up. The beagle sniffed and then pulled back with a slitty-eyed scowl, as though the man's scent had confirmed his suspicions somehow. "Grrrr…"
" He doesn't like you," I told Jones. "Animals can sense evil, you know."
" I also make babies cry," Jones said. "It's a gift from the dark prince no doubt."
" Don't say that too loud around here, or you'll be dunked in the creek faster than you can say, "Bob's your uncle." Speaking of family… "Hey. How's everything going with your family?" Sheesh, could I sound more ridiculously stupid?
Jones grinned at me but answered my trite question. "The drama has settled down a little. Both Lizzy and her mother downed some Valium and were still sleeping when I left."
" Oh. Well that's good, I guess. After the shock and everything." Stupid had settled in to roost. I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, I'm not up to my usual verbal sparring weight today."
" Understandable," Jones murmured. "Quite the homecoming for us both."
I desperately wanted to ask him if he 'd seen, or maybe even erased the words written in the flour, but couldn't find a casual way to bring it up. Not that I'd been doing a great job with subtle so far. Some people have a gift for gab. I have a gift for blather. "So, I guess you're sticking around here for a little while?"
Good, that sounded only mildly interested and not like a crazy women cleaving to her last thread of sanity.
Jones grinned down at me. "At least until after the wedding. It's been a long time since I've spent time with my father and sister, and I promised to photograph for them."
" They're lucky to have you." Heat crept up my face. To cover I asked, "Do you think the police have any suspects?"
" Other than me, you mean." His tone was flat.
Gripping his arm I pulled him to a stop. Roofus cast us both a disgusted look and flopped down for a mid-stroll nap. "It's not about you, other than that they don't know you. You're an outsider and an easy mark. Try not to take it personally."
" Is there any way to not take personally the fact that half the town thinks I'm guilty of killing a man I'd never laid eyes on before yesterday?"
" Look, I alibied you out to Detective Brown. I saw you, taking pictures of the crowd—" my words cut off as Jones and I looked at each other. Pictures, as in photographic evidence of who was and was not outside at the time Chef Farnsworth was being stabbed to death.
" We should probably look at them first, make sure there's something there before disturbing the detective," I reasoned.
" I'm scheduled to have brunch with my father and a few of his business associates in about an hour. This afternoon perhaps?"
Great, plenty of time to doll myself up, check on my car , and drop the bomb on Pops and Aunt Cecily, although chances were they already knew about me discovering the body. Plus, I had time to work out exactly how to go about asking Jones if he'd tampered with a police investigation.
The trail had looped back around to the cul-de-sac. "This is my stop. I'll see you later then?"
" I'll pick you up at the pasta shop."
" Don't look at those pictures without me," I called to his retreating form.
" Bossy!" Jones turned and winked at me. "I like that."
Pops and his Lincoln were gone by the time Roofus and I got back to the house. After doling out a hearty scoop of Kibbles and Bits for the dog, I darted upstairs and dove into the shower. The ancient pipes rattled, and I hopped around under the icy spray.
" Ah, oo, eeee!" To the casual observer I might have been speaking in tongues, but this vowel sound-off was par for the course when showering at Pop's house.
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