Duffel Bags And Drownings by Dorothy Howell Read Free Book Online Page B

over
     her desk reading something.
    “Hi, Cady,” I said.
    She screamed—yes, actually screamed—and whirled around, throwing both arms in the
     air.
    I noted that none of the workers came running, which made me think this wasn’t an
     unusual occurrence.
    “Oh, it’s you,” Cady declared. She clasped both hands against her chest and drew in
     several huge breaths.
    “Sorry,” I said, and stepped into the room.
    “It’s okay,” Cady said, still heaving. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
    “Really?” I asked.
    Her gaze darted around the room, then landed on me.
    “No, I’m not fine,” she told me. “How could I be fine?”
    Cady looked like she was going to lose it at any second.
    I’m not good in that sort of situation.
    “I wanted to discuss the menu for the Brannock party,” I said. “But I can come back
     later.”
    “Oh, God,” Cady said. She pushed her hands through her hair and gave herself a shake.
     “Let’s do it now. Before Faye finds out and comes in here.”
    Cady rifled through the stacks on her desk, knocking several folders into the floor,
     then finally came up with a single sheet of paper.
    “Green,” she said, waving the paper in the air. “I’m making everything that’s green.
     Spinach, asparagus, lettuce, mint, pistachio. Any kind of food you can think of that’s
     green, I’m making it. And Irish. Irish beef stew, Irish soda bread, Irish corn chowder,
     Irish corned beef and cabbage. Green and Irish, green and Irish, green and Irish.
     I’ve got it, okay? Green and Irish.”
    Lourdes had described Cady as artistic—which, apparently, was code for a complete
     emotional wreck. I’d talked with Cady before and, while she’d seemed a bit scattered,
     she’d never been this crazed.
    I caught the paper Cady was waving over her head and looked at it. It was the list
     of food Nadine Brannock had suggested that I’d given to Cady on my initial visit weeks
     ago to discuss the event. Cady hadn’t expanded on anything or noted any comments on
     presentation. Not good.
    Okay, now I was officially worried.
    I knew expressing my concerns to Cady would be pointless, so I thanked her and headed
     for Faye’s office. She was seated at her desk when I walked in.
    The green duffel bag Wendy and I had found in the employee lounge yesterday was sitting
     in the corner by a tall file cabinet. I guess it hadn’t been left behind, as I’d thought.
     I hadn’t pegged Faye for a sexy lingerie and black lacy teddy kind of gal, but obviously,
     I was wrong.
    “What’s up with Cady?” I asked.
    Faye looked lost. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “I need you to shoot me straight, Faye. A lot is on the line here. I just saw Cady.
     She’s a mess. Does she need to see a doctor? Or maybe just go home until she can calm
     down?”
    “Going home would serve no purpose,” Faye said. “Cady doesn’t have any children and
     that husband of hers would do more harm than good.”
    Her gaze darted to one of the photos on her desk. Faye and Cady were posed side by
     side, flanked by two men. Their husbands, I figured.
    “Let’s just say that Harry Wills’ primary interest in Cady is Cady Faye Catering,”
     Faye said.
    Lourdes had mentioned there was trouble in Cady’s little corner of marital paradise,
     and it seemed that Faye’s opinion of her brother-in-law Harry confirmed it. I glanced
     at the pictures of Faye’s kids on her desk. Seemed family life had turned out very
     differently for the two sisters.
    “Cady is really close to losing it,” I said. “Is it because of Jeri’s murder? Or is
     something else going on?”
    “Oh, those detectives,” Faye muttered and tossed the pen she was holding onto her
     desk. “They were here again this morning asking more questions. It upset her.”
    “Why were they asking Cady questions?” I asked.
    “I have no idea. She wasn’t even here with it happened,” Faye said.
    “Did she tell you what they wanted from her?” I