Crystal Blue Murder by Saralyn Richard

Author:Saralyn Richard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Palm Circle Press, LLC
Published: 2022-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-seven

When Parrott arrived at Portabello’s in Kennett Square, Herman had already claimed the table. The aromas of lemon, basil, oregano, and garlic gave off a mouth-watering vibe that was all about the food—Italian cuisine.

A cheerful hostess in a black-and-white uniform led Parrott to the occupied table, past a sleek bar, comfortable group seating arrangements, and a baby grand piano. “Enjoy your lunch,” she said, as she motioned to the round table with a mushroom-colored cloth, and Herman set down his menu and rose to greet Parrott.

The men shook hands and sat. “Nice place,” Parrott said, taking in the framed oil paintings on the rust-colored walls, the antique tables and mirrors at both ends of the room. He was glad he had on his best sport jacket and soft leather shoes.

“You’ve never been here before?” Herman straightened the open collar of his shirt and patted his jacket lapels. “When we have a job in the area, I like to come here. Great place to meet with clients. You have to try the grilled mango.”

“I guess I never thought of construction work as taking you to such a dress-up place. No offense.”

Herman laughed, a rumbling, warm sound like brandy poured over ice cream. “I could say the same about police work, right? Maybe you could say we both clean up well.” Herman opened his menu and motioned for Parrott to do the same. “Let’s get our order in, and then we can talk.”

Everything on the menu looked good to Parrott, but the beef stroganoff jumped off the page at him. He also ordered the grilled mango as a starter.

Herman followed with crab cakes and veal madeira. “Do you want an alcoholic drink? The selection here is excellent.”

“Never drink on the job,” Parrott said. “I’ll have the iced tea.”

The waiter repeated the order and scooted off, returning with the drinks and a basket of artisan breads and a mushroom gorgonzola hummus. Parrott dug in.

Herman waited while Parrott loaded his bread-and-butter plate with hummus and a yeast roll. “I’m sure you noticed so many of the dishes have mushrooms in the ingredients. I happen to love locally grown mushrooms. Looks like you do, too.”

“I love them, but Tonya won’t touch a mushroom if her life depends on it. She would definitely not appreciate this place.”

Herman chuckled again. “We won’t bring her here, then. This can be our man-to-man lunch place.” His eyes shone, as if he’d just discovered the last piece to a jigsaw puzzle. “Now, tell me, Ollie, what do you want to talk about?”

Parrott finished his roll and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Actually, there are two topics—one professional, one personal. But first I should explain that I’m investigating an active case. I can’t answer questions or provide you with confidential information. Mostly, I need to pick your brain, but I can’t let you pick mine, if that makes sense.”

“I get it,” Herman said. “Something about the construction business, you said?”

“Yes.” Parrott took a deep breath. “Are you familiar with the Whitman bank barn that blew up last week?”

“Sure.

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