Read Online Murder Can Cool Off Your Affair by Selma Eichler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Selma Eichler
Ads: Link
right, girlie,” Pop informed her graciously. “Only you shouldn’t name it black bean sauce if it don’t contain real beans.”
Pop helped himself to the sweet and pungent chicken next, and—miraculously—the dish passed muster.
It was when he was tackling the moo shoo pork, however—which Harriet and/or I should have known better than to order—that the man went into high gear.
Rejecting with a cavalier wave of the hand his daughter-in-law’s offer to fill his pancakes for him, he proceeded to tear the first one to shreds. This was probably the only time anyone had succeeded in making a worse mess of that little chore than I did, some of Pop’s filling even squirting off his plate. I think the embarrassment with regard to his ineptness was what led him to confine himself to three or four mumbled“damn”s and a single, barely audible “oh, hell” as he proceeded to mutilate the thing. But after pancake number two met a fate similar to its predecessor’s, a frustrated Pop had had enough. “They call these pancakes ?” he whined loudly. “Tissue paper’s what they should call them!” He glanced around, then addressed the entire room. “You wanta be smart? Don’t order nothing comes with pancakes.”
We slunk away before dessert. But at this restaurant, at least, we left of our own volition.
When we got off the elevator, Harriet made a dash for her apartment. She was to confess later that Pop had pleaded with her to allow him a couple of minutes alone with me. (An explanation that provoked an almost overwhelming desire in me to break both her legs.)
“We had a lota fun tonight, didn’t we, Desiree?” Pop remarked, as we stood in front of my door with me fumbling around in my suitcase-sized handbag for my keys. I was having a slight problem locating them among the bag’s other contents, which along with the expected wallet and makeup kit presently included a can of hairspray, a bottle of Poland Spring water (someone had left it in my office), a bottle of cough syrup (a holdover from last month’s cold), a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol, a stapler (it’s a long story), a pliers (don’t even ask), a flashlight, a cell phone (a recent acquisition), a metal tape measure, two notebooks, three or four pens—and I can’t recall what else.
Looking up, I eked out a smile. “Yes, we did.”
“I’m gonna be in town until next Saturday,” he told me meaningfully.
I pretended I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, too.” I got the impression he was about to say more, so I hurriedly threw in, “You must be really anxious to see Steve.”
He considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And you have a new great-grandchild you haven’t even met yet,” I pointed out before going back to my fumbling.
“Harriet’s gonna take me over there tomorrow. I pray the kid should only be smarter than his father—my grandson, that dope. But anyways, I’ll be free later on—in the evening. Maybe you’d like to go to that deli on the Lower East Side we ate in once. But only the two of us this time, okay? We had a lota fun at that place, too, ’member?”
Words failed me—almost. Again interrupting the search for my keys, I gave the man my complete attention. “Yes, I remember. But listen, Pop, I recently became involved in a very time-consuming investigation, and I’m too bogged down with work to accept any more dinner invitations for quite a while. Umm, thanks for asking, though.”
“If you don’t desire to go back to the deli, we could go somewheres different,” he cajoled. “All you gotta do is name it. And I don’t want you should be concerned. You could even pay for yourself so’s you wouldn’t feel obligated in any way—if you take my meaning. Unless,” he added slyly, “you want to be obligated.”
Why, that cheeky little bugger! I could hardly believe what I was hearing. How did I get so lucky, anyway? I mean, first
Pop helped himself to the sweet and pungent chicken next, and—miraculously—the dish passed muster.
It was when he was tackling the moo shoo pork, however—which Harriet and/or I should have known better than to order—that the man went into high gear.
Rejecting with a cavalier wave of the hand his daughter-in-law’s offer to fill his pancakes for him, he proceeded to tear the first one to shreds. This was probably the only time anyone had succeeded in making a worse mess of that little chore than I did, some of Pop’s filling even squirting off his plate. I think the embarrassment with regard to his ineptness was what led him to confine himself to three or four mumbled“damn”s and a single, barely audible “oh, hell” as he proceeded to mutilate the thing. But after pancake number two met a fate similar to its predecessor’s, a frustrated Pop had had enough. “They call these pancakes ?” he whined loudly. “Tissue paper’s what they should call them!” He glanced around, then addressed the entire room. “You wanta be smart? Don’t order nothing comes with pancakes.”
We slunk away before dessert. But at this restaurant, at least, we left of our own volition.
When we got off the elevator, Harriet made a dash for her apartment. She was to confess later that Pop had pleaded with her to allow him a couple of minutes alone with me. (An explanation that provoked an almost overwhelming desire in me to break both her legs.)
“We had a lota fun tonight, didn’t we, Desiree?” Pop remarked, as we stood in front of my door with me fumbling around in my suitcase-sized handbag for my keys. I was having a slight problem locating them among the bag’s other contents, which along with the expected wallet and makeup kit presently included a can of hairspray, a bottle of Poland Spring water (someone had left it in my office), a bottle of cough syrup (a holdover from last month’s cold), a bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol, a stapler (it’s a long story), a pliers (don’t even ask), a flashlight, a cell phone (a recent acquisition), a metal tape measure, two notebooks, three or four pens—and I can’t recall what else.
Looking up, I eked out a smile. “Yes, we did.”
“I’m gonna be in town until next Saturday,” he told me meaningfully.
I pretended I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, too.” I got the impression he was about to say more, so I hurriedly threw in, “You must be really anxious to see Steve.”
He considered this for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“And you have a new great-grandchild you haven’t even met yet,” I pointed out before going back to my fumbling.
“Harriet’s gonna take me over there tomorrow. I pray the kid should only be smarter than his father—my grandson, that dope. But anyways, I’ll be free later on—in the evening. Maybe you’d like to go to that deli on the Lower East Side we ate in once. But only the two of us this time, okay? We had a lota fun at that place, too, ’member?”
Words failed me—almost. Again interrupting the search for my keys, I gave the man my complete attention. “Yes, I remember. But listen, Pop, I recently became involved in a very time-consuming investigation, and I’m too bogged down with work to accept any more dinner invitations for quite a while. Umm, thanks for asking, though.”
“If you don’t desire to go back to the deli, we could go somewheres different,” he cajoled. “All you gotta do is name it. And I don’t want you should be concerned. You could even pay for yourself so’s you wouldn’t feel obligated in any way—if you take my meaning. Unless,” he added slyly, “you want to be obligated.”
Why, that cheeky little bugger! I could hardly believe what I was hearing. How did I get so lucky, anyway? I mean, first
Similar Books
