Murder at Harbor Village by GP Gardner

Author:GP Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-08-01T11:37:30+00:00

Chapter 9

Half a dozen residents, two men and four women, were seated at the long table in the dining room, dirty plates in front of them.

My neighbor Ann was one of them. “I hope you didn’t come to eat.”

“Are we too late?” I introduced myself to the other people at the table and got their names.

Ann laid down a knitting project and went to the steam table to see what was left of lunch.

“You all know Patti.”

They did, to some degree.

“You’re Patti Wagon, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s just so amazing your name matches your job,” another said.

Patti did a double take, laughed and started to explain it wasn’t actually her name before she must have realized the futility of that approach. Then she laughed even harder, and I joined her.

“I think you can get enough for two plates,” Ann said. “Want me to do it for you?”

“Oh, no.” I went to the serving cart and got a clean plate off the stack. “We’ll do it ourselves. You just stay and talk with us while we eat.”

Carla came out of the kitchen and went through the same apologizing routine after I introduced myself. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have made extra.” She was young, maybe Patti’s age, with square-cut, chin-length brown hair, a white apron over a polo shirt and jeans, and a tiny gold filigree butterfly in the side of her nose. “Let me get Lizzie out of the kitchen.”

Lizzie was her helper, a skinny, pale-skinned girl with freckles across her cheeks, who looked like she should still be in school. She seemed stressed about being introduced and quickly went off to clear dirty dishes from the long table as Patti and I pulled up additional chairs.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Ann grabbed her tea glass from Lizzie. “You got any more tea back there?”

Lizzie, obliging, headed for the kitchen.

I asked Carla, “How do you ever figure out how many people you’ll be serving?”

That opened the floodgates.

“It’s impossible! Some days we come out even, some days there’s enough left to feed an army. And some days, like today, we scrape the bottom of the trays. I always tell people, if they get here and there’s nothing left, I’ll make them a hamburger or a grilled cheese and salad. I’ll take that, Lizzie. Get some ice.” She took the tea pitcher and circled the table, refilling glasses.

“And what do you do with leftovers, when you have them?” I asked when she got back to me. I scooped up a bite of squash casserole on my fork.

Carla dropped her voice. “Save them for another day.”

Well, that was nice to know, I supposed. “I wonder, Carla, are you and Lizzie able to provide refreshments for a political forum in the ballroom? Mr. Levine is planning it for Thursday evening. This Thursday.”

“Oh, I love doing events.” She seemed completely unfazed by the imminent deadline. “How many people? What kind of refreshments?”

Of course I didn’t know but the people at the table immediately began voicing their ideas.

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