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

said with a slight grin. By gosh, the woman was besotted with this man. Did this mean she’d give up the Scotland idea?
    “He’s a Scot, you know,” she said as she hung her coat up in the back room, off my kitchen.
    Here we go, this isn’t good. I held my breath and nodded.
    “He’s originally from Scotland, been living here for many years. He’d like to return to his homeland now that his wife has passed on. He’s very sweet.”
    The bell over the door tinkled. I ran a hand across my forehead with a sigh, and Seanmhair went to wait on customers. She smiled at me as she went past and chuckled when she pushed though the swinging doors. Holy hell, I was in for it now. She’d never let up about moving to Scotland at this rate.
    While she waited on each person in turn, I strode out the rear door and gripped the handrail while I sucked in huge breaths of air and tried to relax. Stymied as to why my grandmother had taken it into her head to insist we make the move, I rolled my eyes heavenward, sought solace from the universe, and made the decision to put my foot down and insist she not mention relocating ever again. That meant I’d have to do the same with Aidan, which would likely be a tad more difficult since I found him such a magnet where my heartstrings were concerned.
    The morning rush ended with Seanmhair asking for a sandwich and my making it for her. She ate while I assumed the job of bread selling. The day’s stock had dwindled. I rearranged loaves of breads and bundles of rolls left on the shelves and in the glass case. Seanmhair came through the doors with a suggestion that I take time for lunch. I smiled, agreed, and left her to cope with the new influx of bread buyers before she could start talking of Mr. Graham and Scotland again.
    A sandwich sat waiting for me on the stainless steel table in the corner. Pleased at Seanmhair’s thoughtfulness, I happily munched and sipped the steaming tea that sat next to the plate. I’d eaten half of the chicken salad sandwich when a light tap on the door brought my attention away from the delightful food. When I answered the summons, I found Detective Anderson waiting outside.
    “May I come in?” he asked in a serious tone.
    My stomach somersaulted and my chicken threatened to return as I ushered the detective into the room. I swallowed hard and pasted a smile on my face as he turned toward me.
    “What’s up?” I asked, and motioned to a stool across from my lunch.
    He eyed the sandwich, then glanced up and held my gaze with his own gray one.
    “Don’t let me interrupt your lunch. I can come back later, Melina,” Porter assured me.
    “I was finished. Would you like the rest?” I asked, and pushed the plate forward with a smile when I caught the gleam in his eyes. Anything to put off what would likely be more questions to which I had no answers. Crap.
    “Would you like tea or coffee?”
    “No, thanks.”
    He finished eating and then said, “Normally, I wouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve checked into the background of the guests. I’ve come across some interesting information that I can’t share. You aren’t on the suspect list any longer, but keep that news to yourself,” he murmured softly and glanced around as though the walls had suddenly grown ears.
    “Seanmhair is out front, and can’t hear what we’re talking about, so don’t worry. I’ll do as you ask.”
    I’d no sooner finished speaking, when Seanmhair strutted through the doors and announced Vinnie Esposito had arrived. Seanmhair must have been impressed with the tall, leggy, dark-haired beauty who sauntered into the room behind her, because she gave her a wide berth followed by a huge grin. She hurried back to the shop.
    “Hey, Porter, what are you doing here?” Vinnie’s eyes flicked back and forth between me and the detective. It was easy to see, by the smile that tickled the corners of her lips, that she thought Porter had an ulterior motive for hanging about.
    “I might ask