Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,42
set down my own glass and went into the kitchen. There were bound to be paper towels in there, and a broom and a dustpan, too.
Of course, finding everything in a kitchen the size of my apartment was no easy thing. I finally took a chance on the walk-in pantry where, earlier, Glynis had gotten the vanilla extract. Success! I found a roll of paper towels.
I was just about to head back into the great room, when a stack of magazines on the kitchen desk caught my eye. They were cooking magazines and—do I need to say it?—cooking magazines usually send chills up my spine. Except the magazine on top had a headline across the front of it that said, “Foods of Scotland.” Honestly, all I meant to do was take a peek and get some kind of idea for a wedding dinner surprise that didn’t involve skinning fish or cooking their heads in seawater.
But when I heard someone coming, I suddenly felt guilty for paging through Beth’s magazine. Maybe because I felt guilty about being in her home under false pretenses? Psychology aside, I caught sight of the carry bag I’d brought along with me, and automatically tucked the magazine inside it. By the time Celia walked into the kitchen, I was standing there holding the paper towels and trying not to look like the thief I felt I was.
“Paper towels.” As if she couldn’t see them, I held them up. “I can’t believe what a mess I made in there.”
“You didn’t do a thing. Don’t worry about it. Drinks spill. Glasses break. Besides, Beth’s walking on a cloud. She couldn’t care less about any of it.”
Just as I’m sure Celia intended, this made me feel better. While she gathered up a broom and a dustpan from just inside the laundry room, I took the chance of sticking my nose just a little further into these people’s lives. “Beth’s very proud of Michael, isn’t she?” I asked, as innocent as can be. “And Michael must be thrilled to take on such a prominent position. I wonder why Edward doesn’t look the least bit happy about any of it.”
Celia shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I swear, the man has lost his mind. I guess it’s only natural. I mean, considering what happened to Vickie and all. I just don’t understand—”
“What?”
Her gaze darted to the doorway, and seeing that no one was around, she stepped closer and lowered her voice. “First he lets Jeremy play in the soccer game. Now it’s Michael’s promotion. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Because Jeremy’s a lousy soccer player, and Michael . . . ?” I held my breath and waited for her to say more.
She did. But not until after she’d looked at the doorway again. “A couple weeks ago, Beth called me in tears. There was a rumor going around Macro-Tech and she caught wind of it from Michael’s administrative assistant. Something about Michael screwing up a really big account. Beth was worried sick because there was talk of Michael being let go.”
“And today, he was named CFO.” This was curious, and I chewed over the thought for a moment while I drummed my fingers against my chin. “Maybe,” I suggested, “Edward found out it was all a big mistake. You know, about Michael messing up that account. Maybe he’s trying to make it up to Michael.”
Celia shook her head. “Edward isn’t the type to kiss and make up. Not with anybody. You don’t get that powerful by being a marshmallow.”
“Then maybe he’s just feeling warm and fuzzy. You know, because of Vickie.”
“That’s it. That’s got to be it.” Celia was relieved. She backed off. “I’d better take care of that glass in there before Beth feels she has to. I don’t want to spoil her celebration.”
“I don’t, either.” I clasped the roll of paper towels to my chest. “But there’s one other thing . . .”
If Celia was less polite, she would have ignored me. The way it was, she stopped in midstride, broom in one hand, dustpan in the other, and looked at me over her shoulder.
As casually as I could, I said, “Edward thought Vickie was going to cooking class on Tuesday nights.”
Big points for Celia, her expression never changed. But I couldn’t help but notice that her slender shoulders went rigid.
When she didn’t say a word, I knew I had to. “Vickie’s been hanging around at Swallows on Tuesday nights for a few weeks now. You all go to cooking