Free A Quiche Before Dying by Jill Churchill Page A

embroidering them with fictional fillips. Fiction writers are born liars.”
    Shelley reached toward Jane’s glass, which Jane snatched away. “Get your own,“ she said.
    Before Shelley got back, Jane could hear a car door slamming in the driveway. “Around back!“ she shouted inelegantly. She was glad that, tired as she was, she’d washed her hair this morning and put on decent clothes. Mel was back in his detective mode, but he might notice her as a woman instead of a peripheral object in an investigation.
    He came out onto the patio, holding a glass of tea Shelley had forced on him. She was right behind with the pitcher and a bucket of ice on a tray. Jane wondered how Shelley’d gotten the ice maker to give up its cubes. It tended to create one large, lumpy mass instead of individual pieces. But there wasn’t a household appliance in the world that could best Shelley.
    Mel sat down with a sigh. The rest of them had at least gotten a few fleeting hours of sleep; Mel must have been up all night. He was wearing the same clothes, but except for the weary sigh, he looked fresh and bright. He repeated what he’d told Jane earlier about Maria Espinoza and the tests. They still didn’t have definitive results. “So, ladies, I’d like to go over the food and seating arrangements and so forth with you.”
    Willard had finished his ice cube and finally noticed there were newcomers. He shambled over to put his head on Mel’s thigh. Mel patted his big, square head and waved his hand at the cloud of gnats that went everywhere the dog went.
    “We’ve all been questioned about that already,“ Missy said. “Can’t we go on to something else? It’s like revising the same chapter over and over.“
    “Not until we’ve got this sorted out. Now, who could have put something in the quiche or the tea?”
Jane sat up straight. “Why the quiche and tea especially?“
    “Because that’s all the maid had in her stomach.
Mrs. Pryce had apparently eaten all kinds of stuff.“
    “But I made the quiche,“ Jane objected. “Exactly,“ he said coolly, staring back at her. “You don’t think I poisoned her?“
    “As a matter of fact, I don’t, but somebody apparently did, and it’s my sad job to find out who and how. I have to assume that the quiche itself wasn’t poisoned, or other people would have become ill, too. So it must have been put in her food or her drink after she got her plate and cup. Now, where was she sitting? Who could have exchanged her plate or added something to her food?“
    “Anybody,“ Shelley and Missy said together.
    Shelley took up the explanation. “The dining room is a very crowded little space, and everybody was crammed together. We were all reaching over and past each other and banging our elbows together. Mrs. Pryce sat at the head of the table with her back to the hallway and kitchen, where the dishes were set out. We had to squeeze past her and each other to get around at all.“
    “Did she fill her own plate?”
    The three women exchanged glances. “I don’t think so,“ Jane finally said. “At least she wasn’t in with the lost lemmings.“
    “I beg your pardon?“
    “I mean she wasn’t stuffed into the hallway with the rest of us when we were getting our food. At least, I don’t think she was.“
    “Was she at the table when you got there?“ Mel asked.
    “Yes, and she had a plate full of food. The first time.“
    “The first time? What?“
    “The first time I sat down. But I’d forgotten a drink and—”
    Mel held up his hand. “Hold it. Step by step. Where had she gotten the plate if she hadn’t filled it herself?“
    “I don’t know. It was already there when Shelley and I sat down. What about you, Missy?”
    Missy had her eyes closed hard. “I’m trying to picture it. I just can’t recall. I seem to think I saw someone set it in front of her, but I can’t see who. And I’m not sure but what I’m making that up. I don’t mean to invent details, it’s just