Free Death of a Kitchen Diva (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktail Mysteries) by Lee Hollis Page B

to do this now? I’m totally stressed out, Sergio. Why don’t I just come over to your house tomorrow and we can go over everything then? I’ll bring bagels and coffee.”
    “We have to do it now, Hayley,” Sergio said, stepping away and gesturing for her to sit down on the couch.
    Hayley’s sense of relief was now slipping away, replaced with a queasy feeling in her stomach.
    “Okay,” Hayley said, following instructions and sitting down. “Shoot.”
    “What were you doing here tonight?”
    “Karen sent me an e-mail. We had a little disagreement earlier ...”
    “The food fight at the library bake sale.”
    “You heard about that?”
    “Everyone heard about it.”
    “Oh,” Hayley said, not too surprised.
    “Go on.”
    “Anyway, after I got home, I got an e-mail from Karen apologizing and asking me to come over to her house so we could talk about it.”
    “So soon?”
    “I know. I thought it was strange, too. I wasn’t going to go, but she sounded so desperate to resolve our differences in the e-mail, so I decided just to come over and work it out and be done with it.”
    “And that’s when you found the body?”
    “Yes.”
    “What about the clam chowder?”
    “What about it?”
    Sergio paused, thinking about what he was going to say next very carefully.
    “Don’t you find it a bit iconic that you found Karen face down in a bowl of clam chowder?”
    “Iconic?”
    “Yes.”
    “You mean ironic?”
    “What?”
    “Iconic is someone who has made a cultural impact like Madonna or Lady Gaga,” Hayley said, smiling. “I think you mean ironic. Like the Alanis Morissette song.”
    Sergio thought for a second.
    “Okay. Yes. Ironic,” he said, frustrated, then growled something to himself in Portuguese.
    Hayley really didn’t want to know what he said.
    “What was the question again?” she asked.
    “The clam chowder,” Sergio said, trying not to raise his voice.
    “Oh, right. No. Not really. Why do you say it’s ironic?”
    “Because Karen had just accused you of stealing her crab stuffed mushroom recipe.”
    “How did you know that?”
    “Everyone knows it.”
    “Oh.”
    “You two were moral enemies.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far,” Hayley laughed, deciding not to correct Sergio by telling him he probably meant to say mortal enemies.
    “You threatened her at the library in front of everyone,” Sergio said. He was dead serious.
    “You heard about that? Wait. I know. Everyone did.”
    “And now you’re in her house, with her body, her face drowning in a big bowl of clam chowder, which you wrote about in your columns.”
    “Wait just a second, Sergio. You’re questioning me like this is some sort of murder investigation.”
    “It’s not a murder investigation, Hayley,” Sergio said.
    “Good,” Hayley said.
    “Yet.”
    “What do you mean, yet? There’s no evidence of foul play. Where’s the blood? She wasn’t stabbed or shot or anything like that!”
    “All I’m saying is, I think it’s a bit odd you being here and the circumstances surrounding her sudden death,” Sergio said.
    “I suppose,” Hayley said. “But what seems odder is you treating me like some kind of suspect. Like this is a Law and Order episode or something. How can you imply something like that? Especially after we kicked ass playing trivia together at Randy’s bar last weekend.”
    “I’m sorry, Hayley,” Sergio said calmly, putting an arm around her. “I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. But I’m just doing my job. I need to ask the tough questions. But I’d be lying if I told you your presence here is not going to jump-start the rumor factory.”
    “Rumor mill.”
    “What?”
    “It’s not rumor factory. It’s rumor mill.”
    She just couldn’t help herself that time.
    Sergio sputtered something to himself in Portuguese again.
    “I think you’re overreacting, Sergio,” Hayley said confidently. “Everyone in town knows I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
    Hayley had been wrong