A Crouton Murder by J. M. Griffin Read Free Book Online Page A

hadn’t picked up the call. It was after midnight, and not everyone burned through the midnight hours like I did. I tucked the phone into my apron pocket and asked BettyJo, “You’ll be around tomorrow, right?”
    She bobbed her head up and down as she finished the Diplomat and then said, “Clients all day and then dinner with Dad, he’s cooking. Can you imagine? I didn’t know he dabbled in cooking. It seems he and Ezra have taken a few classes at Johnson & Wales. The school offers special evening events where you’re shown how to make a specific recipe. It’s a hands-on thing.” BettyJo giggled. “I hope I’m not the guinea pig for a recipe he’s yearning to try out. When I was a kid, Mom cooked. After she left, Dad hired a fulltime cook. He couldn’t make toast, for gosh sake. By the way, I didn’t have a chance to mention Corinda to Dad. He couldn’t stay long, so our coffee-time was brief.”
    I chuckled along with her. “You’ll have another chance, I’m sure. Have you told your father of this stalker?”
    “Uh, that would be a no, definitely not answer. Don’t you tell him, either. Promise.”
    “You needn’t worry on that account. I saw your father earlier this evening and he was less than cordial.”
    “Sorry, Melina. He can be pompous. I’ll talk to him about his behavior,” BettyJo said.
    I put my hands up and said, “Please don’t do that. Either he’ll come around or he won’t, once he figures out I didn’t try to kill him, that is.”
    “Sure, if that’s what you want. I won’t say a word.” BettyJo shook crumbs from her shirt and asked for another Diplomat. Laughingly, I gave her one and ate one, too.
    “How was your date with Aidan?”
    After I’d given her a rundown on the disastrous party and our marvelous dinner at Hemingway’s, BettyJo joked about Seanmhair’s wish to move to Scotland.
    “She might find a nice Scot to keep her company. No strip clubs, no paddy wagons, no police station. Just think, someone might sweep her off her feet,” BettyJo said with a hearty laugh.
    I gave her a glare and said, “Funny, very funny. Don’t think for a moment that Scotland doesn’t have all of those things you’ve listed. With my luck, she’d meet a nice Scot at a strip club and they’d both be hauled off to jail. Then what?” I snickered and shook my head in dismay.
    We talked a while longer. I said I’d let her know when Vinnie called. With a nod of acceptance, BettyJo walked out the door. I waited in the doorway until she entered her own place before I locked my door, shut down the lights, and climbed the stairs to my apartment. Man, I was beat. The day had dragged on forever.
    *    *    *
    There are some things we can change and others that remain steadfast in our lives. Seanmhair was one of those steadfast things. I thanked my lucky stars, most of the time, for her help, understanding, and her sense of humor. When she’d been hauled into the police station this past summer, by way of a paddy-wagon, I’d been appalled and disturbed to think she’d continued to frequent a Providence strip club after I’d warned her of what the consequences of her actions might be.
    The gnome-like woman strolled into the bakery about a half hour later than usual, looking quite pleased with herself. Over what? I wondered.
    With a glance at the clock, I asked, “You’re not usually late. Is something wrong?” From the look on her face, I’d guess there wasn’t, but I had to make sure and also find out why she’d been late.
    “Mr. Graham, a man who lives on the second floor in my building, asked me to breakfast this morning. We’d played cards a few times along with a couple games of chess. He’s a charming fellow,” Seanmhair said wistfully. The only things missing were the stars in her eyes. Oh, boy.
    “That is lovely. I’m glad you had the chance to indulge yourself that way. I wish you’d do that more often. You needn’t come in early every day, you know,” I