Melina Cameron is single, and looking. For a date. Not another dead body.
Her former flame, the sexy Scotsman, Aidan Sinclair, went MIA after he proposed a few months ago, so Melina isn’t wasting any more bread and tears on that one! When hunky police detective Porter Anderson asks her out, she says yes. She could do worse than dating a cop. She and Porter already have a lot in common given her penchant for finding dead bodies.
When high-ranking politician Vincent Gallagher hires Melina to cater his swanky party, and specifically requests her famous focaccia, Melina looks forward to the event, and the potential new customers it could bring. Not to mention, flirting with the cute waiters. But two things happen on that fateful night that could change the course of Melina’s future. First, Aidan walks into the party with a tall, sultry blonde. Second, that same tall, sultry blonde winds up dead, and Melina is the one who discovers the body!
This can’t be good for business let alone Melina’s love life.
Now, Melina has to figure out how to stay away from Aidan, and figure out who killed the blonde, or she might be the one to take the fall.
The rear entrance of Vincent Gallagher’s stately residence lay at the far end of his driveway. Before the crowd arrived, I figured I’d unload the goods, and then park my Fiat down the street. I hustled bags and trays into the kitchen. As with many houses in the area, this kitchen had been upgraded to accommodate today’s cook. I hesitated to think Mrs. Gallagher even made toast, but one could never tell for sure.
With the car parked a block away, I hurried back to the house and set about filling trays and bundling rolls into baskets. Mrs. Gallagher showed me where to place the breads and asked if I’d hang about to refill as needed. I’d been aware that I was supposed to do so, and agreed without mentioning Vincent’s request.
Guest after guest, couple after couple, arrived. I stood near the kitchen end of the hallway to watch beautifully dressed people enter the house and idly drop their coats into the hands of a doorman who’d been hired to deal with that particular job. Lawyers, congressmen, senators, and the like arrived first, followed by those I thought were friends and relatives. When most of the guests had come in and began to wander through the enormous rooms, I moved farther back into the hallway where lighting was dim and I wasn’t quite so visible. After all, I wasn’t a guest and was happy about it. Put it down to shyness or signs of inferiority. Either way, I didn’t like to hobnob with the rich and famous.
I’d started to turn toward the kitchen when two more guests arrived. I inhaled sharply, my breath caught in my throat. A beautiful woman, draped in a white ermine fur cape and dressed in a sparkling, long black gown, entered the foyer. She laughed and coyly turned to the man behind her. He walked with a slight limp and used a cane as he progressed into the space behind her. Aidan Sinclair stood dressed in a suit that I bet cost more than my shop earned in a week. His handsome face and gorgeous smile wasn’t lost on me or the woman he was with. My heart sank, right down into my shoes. So much for I’ll be back in the morning to ask you to marry me again, the shithead.
Abruptly, I stomped into the kitchen, liberated a glass of wine off the tray a waiter carried, and gulped it in one clean swallow. If he’d hesitated another second, I’d have taken another. I glanced around, saw everyone staring, and laughed out loud before I said, “Good cheer to you all, let’s get this party underway.”