Murder at the Wine Tasting by Liz Turner

Author:Liz Turner [Turner, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

John didn't show up for work the next day. Margie had a pretty good idea of why; she hoped that she hadn’t driven him off completely and he would come back. She missed his even temper and constant presence. He was good at his job; Margie needed his ability to keep everyone calm and on schedule.

A few of the kids asked about him, and she told them all that John was sick. Most of the girls looked disappointed, but Margie pointedly ignored that particular reaction. She kept the kitchen going as well as she was able, managing to bring out all the dishes on time and well plated. She was so busy that she didn’t have much time to mingle, but she’d learned a little from the conversations she had overheard.

Luckily for her, the next day was Sunday, her day off. Finally! What a week this had been. Margie wasn’t sure she could handle the next two weeks if this were how they were all going to go.

She woke up early in the morning and made her way to Camelia and Ray’s new house. It was a darling little three bedroom over at the edge of Market Street, near where the school and train station were. The house was decked in old weeping willows that hung in front of the house like curtains in front of a window. The house was two stories and painted a very cheerful yellow with navy blue shutters. It was beautiful and serene and absolutely perfect. The kind of house Margie would pick if she ever chose to lay down roots.

Camelia was home alone; Ray would be at the precinct for another two hours. He didn’t usually work seven days a week unless there was a murder case resting on his desk. Ray would work until he dropped. Or at least, he did until he’d married Camelia. He’d lost some of his hyper-focus on work in the last few months. It was good for him, Margie was sure. And good for his new family.

“Margie!” Camelia, looking glowing, as usual, threw open the door and hugged Margie hard. Margie could feel tears threatening at the edges of her eyes. She didn’t realise until this very second how much she’d missed her best friend. How would she ever live without her in the tropics?

“Oh my goodness, Cammy, you look absolutely radiant.” Margie held out a pink gift bag, and Camelia grabbed it from her, hugging Margie hard again.

“Come in, come in, come in. Let me show you the house!” She took her by the hand and dragged her hard into the front room. It was a quaint little house. Margie pulled off her jacket and ran her eyes over the room, well lit space. It was cheerful with its pale, floral wallpaper and warm hardwoods. There were carpeted stairs going up to the second floor. A tall grandfather clock stood like a guardian over the entryway, its solemn, quiet ticking counting the seconds. “So here’s the hallway and the dining room and here is the living room and.

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