Disturbed Mind by Charlotte Raine

Author:Charlotte Raine
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Romantic Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Thriller & Suspense, Romance, Suspense, Mystery & Suspense
Publisher: Arrabella Publishing
Published: 2015-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

SAM, 2015

(Saturday Afternoon; Caesar’s American Villa, Murray, Virginia)

THE FOOD AT Caesar’s American Villa is worthy of any Roman god. First, Alicia and I have bruschetta for an appetizer. The tomatoes are so fresh and the bread has been rubbed with the most succulent garlic butter. I get fettuccine Alfredo, which is rich without being greasy, and Alicia gets Saltimbocca alla Romana, which is veal with ham and sage. She offered me some, but honestly, the thought of how veal came to be on her plate is a bit too much for me.

When we finish eating, Alicia pulls out her folder again. “So…have I tempted you into my idea by using food? I know how you love good cuisine.”

“Ah, so this was a trick?” I tease.

“Of course,” she says. “My plan was to drag you away from your office, so all escape routes are cut off, and you had no one to intervene. Then I was going to fill you up with good food to make you complacent, and now I am going to tell you wonderful things about my ideas, which you will agree to because my plan has worked.”

“Like I said before, I haven’t asked Grace, yet.”

“Most of the time, it seems like you’re trying to sell her house more than she is.”

“She’s busy,” I say, shrugging. “She has her job at Stoddard High School, she’s going to college to get a second master’s degree in counseling, and she’s…”

I’m about to tell Alicia about Grace going to therapy, but then I realize how private that information is. My mouth could get me into a lot of trouble.

“…And she’s got a lot going on in her personal life.”

“You’re working two jobs, one that you own, and both that are extremely important,” she says. Pride swells in my chest. Alicia has always known how to sweet talk to people. “You’re just as busy as she is, it’s not even your house, but you’re the one who is selling it. It’s probably best that you accept that and agree to let me help you.”

“Okay,” I say, just to appease her. “What colors do you think the rooms should be painted?”

“Not all of the rooms,” she says. “Just the major rooms—the living room, the dining room, maybe the kitchen. Either a rich red, pale yellow, or a jean-shade of blue. Of course, they would all need to be the same color for the rooms—just different shades. For decorations at the Red Silk store, they have that wooden vase, this ceramic swan that would look great on the coffee table, and this painting of red birch trees on cotton canvas would be amazing in the main bedroom.”

“Wow, you have really thought this out,” I say.

She laughs. “I love my job. It’s fun to make things look beautiful.”

“Well, you’re good at it,” I say.

She blushes. “Thank you, Sam. You’re good at being a medical examiner and a cardiologist.”

“I can’t be that good of a medical examiner,” I tell her. “I can’t even figure out who this John Doe is or even why he was killed.

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