Dead Men Don't Crochet: A Crochet Mystery (Berkley Prime Crime Mysteries) by Betty Hechtman

Author:Betty Hechtman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780425225004
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2008-12-02T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

WHEN I GOT HOME I TRIED TO DISTRACT MY thoughts from the unfortunate incident with Byron Nederman by cooking a quick dinner. Besides, I was still hungry; Patricia's appetizers were really appeteasers, being more about looks than substance. The bits of brie and tiny mushroom puffs were just enough to remind me I'd skipped lunch. And I still had Romance Night at the bookstore to deal with.

I changed into the ballet flats, went into the kitchen and wrapped an apron around the black linen dress. I put some water on to boil for pasta and swirled some olive oil and garlic in a frying pan over a low fire. I took out a bag of cut-up vegetables and a jar of sun-dried tomatoes while I called Dinah to give her an update. I hoped this time she could talk. It turned out she knew Byron Nederman or at least who he was. It seemed everybody knew him but me.

"He owns a chain of health clubs, including the one where Sheila works," Dinah said.

"Great," I said with a groan, making a mental note never ever to run into him again. "As I was leaving I heard Patricia making excuses for me. Something about my being distraught because I'd been recently widowed. I think her whole spiel about being part of the team might be bogus."

"Not necessarily. You do have publicity experience. He's probably going to win, anyway. I think the only other person running is the guy whose wife owns Caitlin's Cupcakes."

Dinah was making me feel better. But just when I thought I had my friend back I heard the sounds of crying on her end and Jeremy's agitated voice.

"E. Conner just poured grape jelly all over the floor. Got to go." As she clicked off, I heard her mutter something about having to get out of there.

As I put the phone back in the charger, a door down the hall opened and Morgan drifted out of her room. She laid some crochet work on the table to show me what she'd created. She had only done the beginning of a shawl, but it was perfect. Not a surprise as I was getting the feeling she demanded perfection from herself. I complimented her on it and dropped some shredded carrots, broccoli florets and sun-dried tomatoes into the olive oil and garlic.

"Want to join me for dinner? I always make too much." I took out a package of angel-hair pasta and dropped it in the boiling water.

She hesitated. I knew the smell had gotten to her. But she shook her head.

"I'm being supervigilant about my diet." She went to the freezer, took out a frozen diet dinner and put it in the microwave. "But we can still eat together. I'll even set the table."

"You know, if you don't eat enough you won't have the energy to give the auditions your all." Then I backtracked and apologized for minding her business.

Morgan smiled. "I kind of like it. My mother is so wrapped up in her own life she never pays any attention to what I do.

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