Murder Over Easy by Rosie A. Point

Author:Rosie A. Point [Point, Rosie A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rosie A. Point

20

That weekend…

* * *

I yawned, rubbing my eyes and checking the time on my pearl-faced watch, trying not to let the morning grumps get to me. I’d run out of coffee in the cottage and I’d been run off my feet at work the day before, so I hadn’t had the chance to get more.

Not a good thing, since it was the morning of the Everglades trip, and I was expected to be social, bright, and happy.

Bodger sat in the living room doorway, eyeing me like a tuna fish out of water.

“I’ll be back on Sunday evening,” I said.

Bodger flicked his tail but said nothing.

“Emilia will be here to fill your water and food bowls. Try not to attack her when she arrives, all right? I don’t think she’s the type who’ll buy into your mood swings. She has a toddler. They’re even more high maintenance than you are.”

A slight hiss that turned into a yawn. Somehow, through great effort on my part not to invade Bodger’s personal space and always feed him on time, we’d managed an uneasy truce—as long as I kept my door locked at night.

On Thursday evening, I’d completely forgotten and simply left it closed. Bodger had opened the door, and I’d woken to him sitting on my chest, his claws inches from my throat, and his growling loud and obnoxious.

I’d nearly had a heart attack.

A car horn honked outside, and I waved to the maniac cat, grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I’d be gone for one sleep and the better part of tomorrow, but I’d packed for every occasion minus high heels, since, rationally, I probably wouldn’t need heels on a hike.

Nick, Didi, Yuli and Karl—two of the other servers at the restaurant—sat in Nick’s Jeep, chatting happily while they waited for me.

Nick leaped out of the car and helped me get my bag into the back, then opened the passenger side door for me.

“I get shotgun?” I asked.

“Sure,” Yuli called from the back. “You’re the oldest, Miss Charles. You get to sit in the front.”

“I’d prefer to be younger and sitting in the back,” I replied. “Is that something that can be arranged?”

The servers laughed.

The Everglades Luxury Bungalows were about an hour from Parfait, and our drive was filled with laughter, the occasional bout of singing, and snacking. Thankfully, Didi’s mother had had the forethought to pack a whole range of snacks, including a flask of coffee that went down a treat.

By the time we pulled up to the cluster of thatched-roofed wooden bungalows, my mood had improved threefold. It was hot and muggy, but the sounds of nature overwhelmed my discomfort, and we piled out of the Jeep.

A lanky man appeared on the porch of the reception building next to the parking area. He was handsome, with sun-bleached hair, bright green eyes, and an even tan that spoke of hours in the sun.

“There you are, Nick!” He strode up to us, and I caught sight of his nametag.

Michael.

My eyes widened.

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