Free A Fatal Feast by Jessica Fletcher

preferred to sleep a little longer this day. If sunrise was any indication of what the weather would be like, we were in store for what Seth would term “a fat day,” plenty of sunshine in which to enjoy my walk with George.
    Showered and dressed long before Seth pulled up in front of the house, I was anxious to ascertain the sort of evening they’d spent together. Had it been pleasant and easygoing? I hoped so. I looked for signs in Seth’s expression. From what I could see, he seemed in good humor. I intended to ask him about his secretive trip to Portland, but that would have to wait until we enjoyed some private time together.
    “What did you two do in my absence?” I asked when George got out of the car and held the door for me.
    “Seth gave me a tour of his surgery,” he said. He climbed into the backseat and added, “or rather ‘doctor’s offices’ I believe is the correct term here.”
    “For a while there, I wasn’t certain we were speaking the same language,” Seth said with a chuckle as he backed from the driveway. “Served him one of Charlene Sassi’s pies for dessert and he thanked me for the ‘pudding.’ And later he wondered if I played ‘draughts.’ ”
    “Drafts?”
    “That’s checkers.”
    Language differences aside, judging from the demeanor of both men, their time in each other’s company had been positive. Spirits were high, and they took turns recounting what they’d discussed during their meal.
    “Of course,” George said, “I didn’t last long after dinner.”
    “I didn’t know whether he was tired from the trip, or was bored with the conversation,” Seth said.
    “I assure you it wasn’t boredom,” George said quickly through a chuckle. “I slept like a baby. It’s a lovely flat, Seth, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you taking in this weary traveler.”
    “My pleasure,” Seth said, sounding as though he meant it. “George was telling me about the psychological training Scotland Yard offers. They’re teaching their staff how to judge whether or not someone is lying.”
    “How interesting,” I said. “Is it usually accurate?”
    “Spot on,” George said. “It requires careful observation, but I’d say it’s close to infallible, although there are always exceptions. If the criminal element know the same signals we do, they can always find ways to outsmart the system.”
    “Still, the information could come in handy in my practice. Patients are not always straightforward with their doctors.”
    “Did he teach you?” I asked Seth.
    “A few tips.”
    “I’d love it if you’d teach me, too,” I told George. “I can use it in one of my novels.”
    “Happy to.”
    Seth dropped us at the church, where after the service we enjoyed a pancake breakfast served up by members of the congregation.
    “I’m ready for that walk,” George said as we stepped outside, “and let’s make it a brisk one. I never should have had that last pancake.”
    We set off for downtown, saying little and enjoying the bracing fresh air touched with the briny aroma of the waters that define much of Cabot Cove. As usually happens when I walk through town, I ran into friends who want to stop and chat. I was delighted to introduce George to those who hadn’t met him during his previous visit to Cabot Cove. Of course, I knew that our appearance together was going to spur on the gossips, who most likely would conjure up a closer relationship between us than was the case, but I really didn’t care. Rumors have a way of developing legs, as they say, and there’s nothing you can do to dissuade people once they’ve bought into them.
    We stopped at the car rental agency downtown, and George arranged to pick up a vehicle later that morning. We wandered to the docks and watched the boats come and go, commercial fishermen hoping for a plentiful catch, and some die-hard recreational boaters who wouldn’t put their crafts up in dry dock until the first snow.
    “What a charming