Farmed and Dangerous by Edith Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

small hall, off of which lay the bathroom and the single bedroom. It was the top half of a ninety-year-old house that sat at the end of a dead-end road in Newburyport, which made for quiet surroundings.
    â€œIt’s fine for now.” He gazed out the window, into the darkness.
    The timer dinged. Pete moved to the kitchen. He took the casserole and another dish out of the oven and put something else in, changing the oven setting. He set the small table with blue place mats and napkins and added silverware and plates.
    â€œLet me help.”
    â€œSure. Bring the wine to the table and light the candles. And then sit down.” He placed the two dishes from the oven on cork trivets. He removed a broiler pan from the oven and brought over a plate heaped with small lamb chops, then sank into the chair across from her.
    â€œThis looks wonderful.” Cam inhaled the aromas of the meal. “And it smells like Greece must.”
    Pete served her a portion of the eggplant casserole, with tomatoes oozing juice and melted feta cheese on the top, along with a heaping spoonful of scalloped potatoes and a lamb chop.
    She cut a bite of lamb and savored it. “Oh, my, Detective. What did you do to make this so delicious?”
    â€œOlive oil—the real stuff—plus lemon juice, salt, and oregano. Broiled.” He smiled. “The best meat is next to the bone, you know. I get these from the butcher down in Rowley.”
    â€œSo the meat is local, after all.”
    He smiled. “Could be. I didn’t ask.”
    â€œWe can save the bones for Dasha. Will he like them?”
    â€œYou don’t know much about dogs, do you? Bones like that can splinter and kill a dog.”
    â€œYou’re right. I don’t.” Cam had never had a dog, but any dog so dear to Pete’s heart as this one was an animal she might as well get to know. She only hoped Dasha didn’t habitually jump up and stick his nose in one’s crotch.
    They ate and talked for some minutes. The candles bathed the table in a glow as soft as fresh snow. When they’d finished, Cam started to stand to clear the table, but Pete put his hand up.
    â€œI’m doing all the work tonight. You just sit there and look beautiful.” He winked at her.
    She wasn’t sure she quite qualified as beautiful, but she looked as good as she ever had. Fresh air and honest physical work were a much better beauty treatment than sitting in a cubicle all day, every day.
    He cleared the dishes and brought out two pieces of baklava. It oozed honey and bits of walnuts from a flaky crust.
    â€œI love this,” Cam said.
    â€œNot homemade, but I get it from Iris’s Greek bakery in Ashford. It’s almost like my mother used to make.”
    She was biting into her portion when a staticky sound came from the hallway. Pete turned his head sharply.
    â€œThe police scanner. I need to check that.” He rose and disappeared down the hall. He returned a minute later, carrying a black device that reminded Cam of an old walkie-talkie. A thick antenna stuck out of the top, along with a knob. He set it on the table and fiddled with the knob before sitting.
    More static erupted, and then a tinny voice.
    â€œUnattended death, code seventy-nine. Repeat. Unattended death of elderly resident, code seventy-nine.”
    Pete frowned. He drummed the table with his fingers.
    The voice continued. “Location, Forty-four Maple Way, Westbury. Car thirty-two, come in, please. EMT, come in, please.”
    Cam gazed at Pete. She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand.
    He listened to more of the transmission until it returned to static. He turned a knob and reduced the volume.
    â€œThis isn’t good,” he muttered.
    â€œI know it isn’t. That address is Moran Manor.” Cam’s heart thudded in her chest. “What if it’s Uncle Albert?”
    Pete gazed into Cam’s face. “Any idea what a code