Death in Four Courses: A Key West Food Critic Mystery by Lucy Burdette Read Free Book Online Page A

their jobs. They have to consider all the possibilities. They owe it to the man down.”
    The man down? First of all, why would he defend his cops, who made me feel like a suspect when the worst I’d done was send Jonah a few e-mails asking for an interview? And then try to save him. And second, I was starting to have flashbacks of me and my ex-boyfriend Chad as our relationship tanked. I’d followed Chad to Key West and then discovered he was far more dedicated to his divorce law practice than he’d ever be to me. Never mind discovering the other women in his life about whom I’d had no clue.
    Here was another man whose work—whose everything but me—would come first. Better to cut him loose now before I got attached. Better to cancel the dinner date we’d finally scheduled before we both wasted a rotten evening.
    “Let’s forget about tomorrow night,” I said. “I have a job to do too, and you’re not helping. Besides,” I added, not wanting to sound completely shrewish, “I should never have agreed to schedule that dinner. Not only do I need to review the restaurant, but my mother’s in town for a couple of days and it’s rude to go off on a date and leave her alone. Some other time. Or not,” I muttered under my breath.
    “Have her join us,” he said gallantly, ignoring my dismissal. “I’d like to meet her. You said seven o’clock? And I’ll speak to the officers about their interviewing technique.”
    I waffled, somewhat mollified. I wanted to go outwith him, but I didn’t want to be a pushover. Was he really another Chad or was I being too sensitive because of my history? Too early to tell. “It wasn’t only what they said. It was their tone—all condescending and accusatory, as if they thought I was hiding something and if they pushed me a little harder, it would all spill out.”
    “Their tone,” he said flatly. And after a pause: “We’ll work on that.”
    Miss Gloria’s cheerful clattering in the galley woke me early after a restless night. “Are you up, Hayley? Stay there. I’ll bring you some coffee.”
    I was up now. But I couldn’t get mad at her. Her son had offered me a perfectly sweet place to live in exchange for keeping an eye on his mother. And she was so obviously thrilled to have my company. And she was adorable.
    Minutes later, she arrived in my room, wearing her pink sweatshirt with the Florida Keys outlined in rhinestones. Both of the cats, her black Sparky and my striped Evinrude, trotted in her wake.
    “One coffee, heavy on milk and light on sugar, comin’ right up,” Miss Gloria sang out. Evinrude hopped onto the bed, butted my hand with his head, and began to purr. Miss Gloria settled the steaming cup on my bedside table. “How was the conference?”
    “Anybody up?” called a voice from the dock before I could tell her the story.
    “I’ll let her in,” said Miss Gloria, bustling out to the living room to greet our neighbor Connie.
    “Could have been better,” I muttered, pulling myself to a seated position and reaching under the bed for my laptop. Sipping the coffee, I turned on the computer and flipped to my e-mail. At the top of the queue was a message from Dustin Fredericks to all the attendees of the food writing seminar. The subject line read
Urgent communication from the director!
I opened it up.
    “I write to inform you that Jonah Barrows slipped and fell last night and accidentally drowned. We deeply regret his passing but know he would want the conference to continue as planned. We have made the decision to dedicate the weekend to Jonah and his legacy. So in addition to the events already in place, we are planning a final session on Sunday honoring his life and his work.”
    The confirmation of his death went down like a mouthful of sour milk. Though I shouldn’t really be surprised, considering what Jonah had looked like—limp and sodden and pastry white—as we extricated him from the pool.
    Miss Gloria and Connie came into my room