Progressive Dinner Deadly by Elizabeth Spann Craig Read Free Book Online Page A

up and glanced around for her car keys until finding them on a table. Willow put the cat down on the table and floated to the front door with her keys.
    “Willow?” Tippy asked with a hard edge to her politely cultured voice. “You’re not leaving your guests, are you?”
    Willow said in a wispy voice, “Oh, yes, I need to. My friend trapped a whole colony of feral cats and was on his way to transport them to the clinic when his van broke down. I’ll have to help him out. Myrtle knows all about it,” she said. No Myrtle didn’t, thought Myrtle. And Myrtle didn’t want to.
    Tippy looked nonplussed. “Right now? The cats have to be transported right now ?” Myrtle had never heard such a shrill note in Tippy’s voice before.
    Willow tilted her head to one side. “The cats will be frightened, Tippy. They’ll need to head over to the clinic for their spaying. Besides, the staff is waiting for them. And my friend is stranded, too.”
    Tippy opened her mouth again but Willow had already slipped out of the door.
    “Well for heaven’s sake,” said Myrtle crossly. This supper club had been a perfectly rotten idea. If they’d been drinking a nice glass of chardonnay and talking about Dickens, this never would have happened.
    Tippy clicked her tongue. “I’m not sure your supper club plan was such a wonderful idea, Myrtle.” Several other members looked reproachfully at Myrtle.
    “ My —”
    “Well, I guess there’s nothing left to be done but assume responsibility for the hostessing duties.” Tippy immediately disappeared into the kitchen, then returned with a pair of tongs. She manned the salad table and started helping plates. Myrtle scowled. She hadn’t wanted to be here in the first place, Miles was still off cleaning up the mess at his house, and now she was feeling guilty about a party that hadn’t been her idea to begin with. Then she sighed. Plus the fact she was supposed to be documenting the thing for Sloan’s blog. She desolately pulled out her cell phone and snapped off a few pictures, unenthusiastically.
    Maybe it was time for a small drink. She hadn’t really imbibed at Miles’ house since there was so much competition over the restroom facilities. She looked around her. No drinks. Not only were there no alcoholic beverages, there was no water, no iced tea, and no lemonade. She’d have to completely abandon her idea of drinking a glass of wine. Clearly, Willow’s careful regard for her health extended to abstaining from alcohol. Darn her.
    “Unforgiveable!” muttered Myrtle under her breath.
    “There’s no tea,” murmured Tippy to Myrtle in a flat voice. Apparently, the dire lack of courtesy at Willow’s house had put her in a state of shock.
    “I’ll see if there’s any in the fridge that we can use. Surely Willow made some,” said Myrtle.
    “I can check,” said Tippy quickly.
    “Now Tippy, I’m not going to fall and break my neck in Willow’s kitchen, I promise you.” Tippy’s overprotectiveness grated on Myrtle’s nerves. She leaned on her cane and thumped off to Willow’s kitchen.
    It didn’t look anything like Myrtle’s own sunny, kitschy kitchen. Where Myrtle had red-checkered curtains, Willow had dark linen. Where Myrtle had natural light, Willow relied on lava lamps. And where Myrtle had candles for those rare candlelight suppers, Willow had incense. At least, thought Myrtle, Willow seemed to share Myrtle’s affinity for roosters in the kitchen. At least on her potholders. Although roosters didn’t seem to jive with the otherworldly theme of the décor, Myrtle thought as she rummaged through Willow’s refrigerator, which was stuffed with organic foods. Myrtle finally found, behind the tofu, cut up vegetables in zipper bags, and heads of broccoli and cabbage, a pitcher of iced tea shoved way in the back.
    Everyone heaped their plates. At least the food looked decent, even if Willow had flaked out. Actually, thought Myrtle, all in all there seemed to be an