Just Add Water (1) by Jinx Schwartz

Author:Jinx Schwartz [Jinx Schwartz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humor, Thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9781932695205
Google: 9euha6FsLYUC
Goodreads: 15750570
Publisher: Jinx Schwartz
Published: 2005-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

30

We arrived in Oakland a day earlier than planned due to an overwhelming desire for a decent vinaigrette. Someone needs to tell America that salad should consist of more than chopped up iceberg lettuce topped with gooey substances and flanked with stale saltines.

My determination to never spend another night in the house went down the tubes, overridden by the deep fatigue of fifteen hours on the road. The good news was Jan had another day of vacation and we could sleep in. The other good news was I’d arranged to move aboard Sea Cock the very next day.

The bad news started when we got to the house. The alarm was off. Again. By now we were so used to it that, after a half-hearted search for lurking bad guys, we shrugged it off to equipment malfunction. After opening all the windows to air the house, I pushed the HEAT button on the hot tub and whipped up a red meal.

Sun-dried tomato fettuccini marinara, a salad of red leaf lettuce, radicchio, arugula, red bell peppers, and red onion topped with a red wine vinegar dressing, accompanied by, what else? Valpolicelli. Strawberries for dessert satisfied both our pallet and palates. A girl can take just so much road food.

We’d finished our banquet rouge when Martinez called. A passing patrol car had seen lights in the house.

“So, anything new on your jewelry?” Jan asked when I hung up.

I shrugged. “Martinez said it could have been some punk that took advantage of the situation and stole the jewelry box. I mean, the place did look a little deserted. And the alarm was off.”

“You should have told him the alarm was off, again, Hetta. And this time I am absolutely sure we set it when we left. And last time, too. I distinctly remember, right after Craig took RJ’s, uh, RJ away. We left and we set it on the way out.”

“God, I’m glad this joint is sold. Let us retire to the hot tub for one final boiling, drink a lot of really good wine, and bid adieu to Chez RJ.”

We iced down my last bottle of 1998 Chassagne Montcharet, grabbed towels, and went up the steps to the hot tub deck. I was gratified to see steam billowing out from under the cover of the tub. We stood at the deck rail and took in the panorama. The Bay Area sparkled below us as Oakland's city sounds rose on a light breeze: A siren's wail, a waft of music from the Coliseum, and the occasion report of a gunshot.

“I will miss this view,” I said.

“Yeah, I remember the first time we sat up here. Before you left for Tokyo. I sure did miss you while you were gone.”

“I should never have gone. I knew I would hate it. I mean, I’m single. All the women over there are short and cute and all the men short and ugly. What was my first clue? And then the unkindest cut of all: Hudson. To paraphrase W.

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