Read Online Murder Over Cocktails: The 2nd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) by Nancy Skopin - Free Book Online Page B

they were pursuing was two feet tall.”
    “What if she was accused of stealing something? Where does she work?”
    “She’s a real estate agent. Not a popular profession for embezzlers, as far as I know.”
    “I’ll give it some thought.”
    “You do that. I’ve gotta go do a couple of surveys.”
    “Okay, sweetie. How’s Bill, by the way?”
    “Bill is excellent,” I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
    I stopped at the office to pick up some blank survey forms, which I sometimes use when I’m working. I like to make note of any significant details while they’re still fresh in my mind.

Chapter 12

    M y first stop was a seafood restaurant on University Avenue in Palo Alto. Since it was a weeknight, the place wasn’t quite as packed as it might have been. Still, there was a short line at the hostess desk, so after leaving my name I said I’d wait in the bar. This would give me a chance to complete the bar survey before dining. I found an empty stool and cast my glance around at the other patrons before checking out the two bartenders on duty.
    My heart skipped a beat when I spotted the man just two stools down on my right. His name was Blake Curtis, and I’d been instrumental in his termination from one of my clients’ restaurants, plus I’d been paid to participate in the termination interview. Even though the authorities hadn’t been involved, it had only been a few weeks ago, and I have a memorable face, especially with the gunshot stippling on my temple.
    Since I was working, and my work requires a high degree of anonymity, now would not be a good time for a confrontation. I turned away from Blake, which caused me to face the man sitting on my left instead. He was a decent looking guy in his fifties, dressed in what I like to call gangster chic. He wore a black sharkskin suit, a red shirt unbuttoned halfway down his somewhat hairy chest, and two heavy gold chains. His shoes were highly-shined black leather loafers. As he noticed my attention to his wardrobe a smarmy smile spread over his face. Luckily one of the bartenders chose that moment to intervene.
    “What can I get you?” he asked, placing a cocktail napkin in front of me.
    “I’d like a Campari and soda and a menu, please.”
    “Coming right up.”
    The guy on my left leaned a little closer and whispered, “On the wagon?” his Scotch-infused breath making my eyes water.
    “Nope,” I said, “On a diet.” I gave him a dim version of my fuck off smile, and glanced in the mirror behind the bar. The hostess was standing behind Blake, her hand resting on his shoulder. She said something, and he turned to face her, then hopped off his stool. She placed his drink on a tray and escorted him to a table in the back of the restaurant. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could do the dinner survey at the bar and be out the door before Blake finished his entrée.
    The bartender returned and served my drink, then handed me a dinner menu.
    “Can I order from you?” I asked, glancing at the salads listed. I’d need something that didn’t take long to prepare.
    “Absolutely.”
    “Excellent. I’ll have the spinach and oyster salad. Dressing on the side.”
    “Good choice.” He smiled, collected the menu, and walked to the end of the bar, where a waitress was loading her drink tray. Leaning over the bar he got her attention, pointed at me, and then at the selection I’d made on the menu. She nodded and sped away with her loaded tray.
    The hostess approached the man seated on my left, and he spun on his stool, giving me a head-to-toe once over. “Why don’t you join me at my table, honey?”
    I cringed inwardly, smiled outwardly, and said, “That’s awfully sweet of you, but I think I’ll pass.”
    “Your loss.” He shrugged and sauntered away.
    As he followed the hostess out of the bar I muttered, “Enjoy your dinner, asshole.”
    The guy directly to my right, who I’d failed to notice before, burst out