For Better or Hearse by Laura Durham Read Free Book Online Page B

wedding where you serve nothing but vegetables.”
    â€œHow can you expect me to use my own wedding to exploit animals?”
    Kate raised an eyebrow and edged away from them. I turned to get some whipped cream and saw that the bride had straight dark hair parted down the middle that almost reached her patchwork skirt. She wore no visible makeup and was in serious need of eyebrow maintenance.
    Her mother, on the other hand, could’ve given Tammy Faye Bakker a run for her money. She stood about a head taller than her daughter and wore her shoulder-length dark hair in a bob that was sprayed to within an inch of its life. Her eyelashes had so many coats of mascara it was a wonder she could still blink, and her eyelids were layered in about a dozen shades of blue.
    â€œViola, you cannot have a vegan wedding. How will you have a wedding cake if you can’t use dairy products or eggs?”
    â€œI’m sure they can make wedding cakes with soy.”
    The mother sucked in air. “If you won’t listen to me, then at least listen to an expert. The caterer said that one of the best wedding planners in the city would be here. She can settle it.”
    I froze in mid-dollop and dropped the spoon back in the whipped cream. This was exactly the kind of wedding that would make me want to throw myself off Memorial Bridge within a week. I turned to Kate and motioned her toward the kitchen. I had to find Richard so I could kill him for giving my name to the Odd Couple.
    â€œBut I didn’t get any berries to go with my scone,” Kate argued as I pushed her down the hall and through the swinging door of the kitchen. A massive chef with salt and pepper hair stood behind a metal table singing an operatic version of the Green Acres theme song ashe stamped out tea sandwiches with a heart-shaped cookie cutter. Several other cooks scurried around him in matching white chef jackets.
    â€œYou can eat as much as you want as soon as you help me murder Richard.”
    â€œIt’s always work, work, work with you.” Kate put a hand on her hip. “Fine, then. Let’s get this over with.”
    I realized that the kitchen chatter had died, and I looked behind Kate at the row of cooks staring at us in silence. The head chef’s thick black eyebrows had become a solid line across his forehead as he scowled at us. He looked much more menacing when he wasn’t singing old TV theme songs, despite the red plastic cookie cutter in his hand.
    â€œOops,” Kate gulped. “Out of the frying pan and into a friar.”

Chapter 8
    â€œI think there’s been a misunderstanding.” I backed away from the glaring row of chefs. “We were joking about killing Richard.”
    â€œWe could never catch him, anyway.” Kate laughed nervously. “He’s way too quick for us.”
    I shot her a look. “Thanks. That helped.”
    The head chef studied us for a moment, and then broke into a smile. “I know you. You’re the wedding planner friends.” His voice was a deep rumble that filled the room.
    I breathed a sigh of relief.
    The chef returned to stamping out heart-shaped sandwiches. “He talks about killing you, too. It must be an inside joke.” The other cooks smiled along with their boss before returning to work, and the kitchen filled with the sounds of chopping and clattering dishes.
    Kate and I exchanged a look. That didn’t sound comforting.
    â€œWhat else does Richard say about us?” I let out a long breath. “And how did you know who we were?”
    â€œI’ve seen you at a few weddings when you run back in the kitchen for something, but we haven’t met officially.” He wiped his large callused hands on a dish towel and extended one for me to shake. “Chef Marcello.”
    â€œRight. Sorry.” I shook his hand but felt like smacking myself on the head. Marcello. The renowned Italian chef Richard told me stories about. His