Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,50
class were thrilled. You know you can freeze those little suckers, then just pop them in the oven when your guests arrive.” I guess we weren’t as jubilant about this as he expected us to be. He went back to checking the newsletter. “The Saturday after, we did flan. Boy, the ladies sure ate that up, literally and figuratively! Last Saturday . . . see here? Last Saturday we did dips. You know, appetizers. It’s a popular class because it includes my world-famous Reuben dip along with my blue cheese herb dip and pita wedges with pepperoni and provolone.” He smacked his lips. “Been thinking about packaging those pita chips. The secret’s in the way I keep them crispy and nobody else does it as well. You want to tell me, sugar, why my class schedule matters so much?”
Like I could actually give him an answer? Instead, all I could do was shake my head. Too bad it didn’t make my thoughts settle down. Really, how could they? I’d just found out that I’d been snookered by the women who were supposed to be my newest friends.
And I’d bet both jars of barbecue sauce I was about to buy that we’d discovered something else, too.
Vickie wasn’t the only one lying to her husband about where she went on Tuesday nights.
“SO, YOU’VE GOT IT ALL STRAIGHT? ” I WAS AT MY desk in my office at Bellywasher’s, and I turned toward the guest chair, where Eve was sitting. Once I had her attention, I propped my elbows on my knees, leaned forward, and stared at her. Hard. Years of friendship had taught me that this was usually the only way to get through to her. “You know what you’re supposed to do, right?”
Eve tossed her gleaming blonde head and giggled. Years of friendship had taught me that this was usually the only way she responds when I’m trying to get through to her. “Of course I know, Annie. How hard can it be to follow one little ol’ girl? Oooh!” She shivered in anticipation. “I hope that since she’s not going over to Sonny’s cooking school, this Celia really spends all her Tuesdays someplace like Tyson’s Galleria. Wouldn’t that just be the best! Being a detective and following someone, and Neiman Marcus, too!” Her sigh of utter contentment said it all. “It would be like dying and going to heaven.”
Dying wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
Or even think about.
Rather than do either, I turned in the other direction to the man who stood just inside my office door. He still looked like the Jacques Lavoie I’d known for more than two years, so once in a while, I had to stop and remind myself that there’s more to Jacques Lavoie, the gourmet shop owner and French chef, than meets the eye.
Which doesn’t mean I love him any less.
It does mean I wanted to be really clear about what we were doing and what we were trying to accomplish. Sometimes Norman can get a little carried away. Especially when he’s out in public and someone recognizes him as the Cooking Con. Norman likes the spotlight.
And apparently, a little intrigue as well. That would explain the shaggy gray wig on his head and the false mustache he had glued under his nose. It looked like a fuzzy caterpillar. The wig looked like its much bigger, much uglier cousin.
“You’ll be following Glynis,” I told him. “And all you need to do—”
“I know, Annie. Don’t worry.” Back in the day when he was pretending to be Jacques, his French accent was as thick as Pepé Le Pew’s. These days, with a loyal fan following that expected him to act the part of the reformed felon, Norman didn’t try to disguise the fact that he’d spent a number of years in New Jersey. Every once in a while, a smidgen of a just-west-of-New-York-City accent crept into his voice. “Wherever she’s headed, I’m on this Glynis babe like white on rice.”
Like I said, sometimes Norman gets carried away.
I refused to get sidetracked by worries. Oh, it’s not like I couldn’t have. In a heartbeat. It was just that I knew that no matter how good a detective I was, I couldn’t follow Celia, Glynis, and Beth on my own. Sure, I could take three weeks to get things sorted out, follow Beth that day, and Celia the next Tuesday, and Glynis the Tuesday after that, but I didn’t want to wait that long to find out