Fillet of Murder by Linda Reilly Read Free Book Online

quintessential Italiangrandmother—Talia had tried urging her to eat. But Whitnee had waved away any offer of food, refusing even the mushy peas she normally gobbled with gusto.
    Only three customers had come in for a meal all afternoon. Each one had taken their goodies outside so they could munch on deep-fried haddock and salty chips while they watched the crime scene technicians go about the tasks of photographing and collecting evidence. Judging from the number of people capturing it on video with their phones, it was quite the spectacle. It didn’t look to Talia as if the techs were doing anything exciting, but the looky-loos apparently thought otherwise.
    â€œI hope you’re right, luvvy,” Bea said wearily. “But since it’s almost six and we haven’t sold an ounce of food in over an hour, we might as well close early. How about we—”
    The door to the eatery abruptly flew open, dispensing a heavyset, fiftyish woman lugging an overstuffed canvas tote. Talia recognized her—it was Whitnee’s mom, Connie Parker. She’d been coming in every week or so to see her daughter, each time thundering through the eatery as if she owned the place. She always devised some dire excuse why she needed to talk to Whitnee, who kept her cell turned off during working hours.
    Today the woman’s gray-streaked hair stuck out from her head like the tines of an old rake. Beneath an open peacoat that had seen better decades, she wore a uniform-style polyester top that matched her pink polyester pants. Connie moved across the dining area, her thighs making a swish sound with each stride. “Where’s my Whitnee?” she bleated. “Is she okay? I heard somebody got murdered right here in this plaza!”
    Not in time, Talia moved toward the dining area with theintention of cutting her off at the pass. Connie edged around the aquamarine counter and bumped past her as if she were a gnat, her gargantuan tote leading the way.
    Whitnee’s face reddened. “Ma, what are you doing here? I told you, you can’t keep coming in here. You’re gonna get me fired!”
    â€œThen why didn’t you call me? Didn’t you get the messages I left on your phone?” Connie dropped her tote and threw both arms around her daughter. “There’s a murderer loose. You coulda been killed!”
    â€œI’m fine, and I told you, Ma, I can’t talk on the phone when I’m working.” Whitnee wriggled out of her mom’s grasp. “You gotta go now, okay? You’re embarrassing me.”
    â€œOkay, okay, so long as you’re all right.” Connie sent an exasperated glance in Talia’s direction. “I guess it’s a crime to worry about my daughter now,” she huffed.
    â€œYou have every right to worry,” Talia said kindly but with a firm undertone. “But I assure you that Bea, Whitnee, and I all look out for one another. We’ll be sure Whitnee gets to her car safely. You have my word.” She moved closer to Connie to encourage a swift departure.
    â€œYeah, yeah, all right. I can take a hint.” Connie squeezed around the edge of the counter and trekked back into the dining area. Talia followed close behind to be sure she didn’t try an end run back into the kitchen.
    â€œKids,” Connie muttered. “I popped out three, and only one of ’em turned out decent. That would be Whitnee, in case you’re wondering which one, and today even she’s givin’ me grief. She’s a good girl, though,
most
of the time.” She swiveled and shot a hard look at her daughter. “My other two—the both of ’em ought to join Deadbeats Anonymous. Can you believe my youngest never worked a day in his life?He sits in his room playin’ with his a-Pad all day. God knows where him and his brother go at night, but at least they go.”
    Talia went to the door to open it for her, but Connie hadn’t