Free The Spy Who Left Me by Gina Robinson Page B

this-can’t-be-breakfast moco. Rice topped with a hamburger patty, covered with brown gravy, topped with a runny egg, sunny side up, and sprinkled with green onions, which floated unattractively on the yellow ooze.
    Raw eggs? Not for her. Salmonella poisoning? No, thank you. Because of raw eggs, she never even ate raw cookie dough or cake batter and you knew those had to be delicious. She picked around as unobtrusively as she could and took a bite of rice as Tita watched.
    Seeing her struggle, Tita took pity on her. “Your throat! Of course. Let me get you something softer from the kitchen. What would you like?”
    “Scrambled eggs?”
    “Coming up.”
    The doorbell rang. Tita frowned, then hefted her girth toward the door, mumbling about the presumption of early-morning guests. A young Chinese man stood on the lanai, carrying a large woven basket filled with an assortment of Hawaiian goodies generously sprinkled with plumeria flowers. Treflee had to crane her neck to see him.
    “You have guest here by name of Tleflee Miller?” he asked in a thick accent.
    “In the dining room,” Tita said. “What do you want with her?”
    Without answering, the young man sidestepped past her to the dining room. “Miss Tleflee Miller?”
    Treflee raised her hand.
    “From Mrs. Ho.” The young man held the basket out to her. “She very sorry to hear of your accident and hope these gifts may help you as you heal.”
    The hair on the back of Treflee’s neck stood up. How did Mrs. Ho hear of my “accident”?
    Carrie shook her head. “News certainly travels fast.”
    “Mrs. Ho always knows what goes on on her property,” Tita said. “She never misses a trick.”
    Ty seemed unconcerned and unsurprised by the arrival. Which made Treflee wonder what he had to do with this sudden care-package delivery.
    When Treflee didn’t reach for the basket, Ty jumped up and took it for her. “Mrs. Miller doesn’t have much of a voice this morning, but she thanks Mrs. Ho for her thoughtfulness.”
    The Chinese man nodded and departed before anyone could reply or question him further.
    Tita shut the door behind him and came up to stand next to Ty, inspecting the goods. “Coconut oil, coconut soap, guava coconut lip balm, and Mrs. Ho’s prize candied pineapple. She’s very proud of that candied pineapple.” She snorted. “Her cook makes it for her.”
    Treflee studied Ty. Boy, he was good! She was now convinced he was involved with the arrival of the basket. She should have been so proud of her husband. Somehow, in the middle of the night while waiting for her in emergency, he’d managed to convince Mrs. Ho the “accident” had occurred, in the first place, and was her fault, in the second. And had gotten her to send a gift basket as verification of the story. Or sent one himself.
    Though the basket sounded like coconut heaven to Treflee, it brought up a tsunami of guilt. Unless Mrs. Ho had sent the strangler, she wasn’t responsible for Treflee’s injury and had spent a pretty penny for nothing.
    Ty was staring at her, trying hard to telepath her cover story to her. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, for heaven’s sake!
    Oh, yeah, she should probably play along. “How thoughtful.”
    Tita waved a hand. “Thoughtful?” She shook her head. “No, Mrs. Ho thinks only of harmony and avoiding a lawsuit. You got hurt on her property. Her harmony is out of balance. For her own sake, she owes you something to make you whole. She should have come herself to make sure you’re okay, not sent a boy with a basket.”
    “Speaking of the basket, I’ll just take this upstairs for you.” Ty turned.
    “Wait! I’d like a look.” Treflee tried to stop him.
    “It’ll be in your room.”
    This was the problem with being married to a spy. They were suspicious of everything. He was probably going to paw through it looking for bugs or who knows what. And she’d just bet he’d take the good stuff for himself.
    Treflee let him go.