Free A Catered Murder by Isis Crawford Page A

Bebe could be Bud’s brother returned to comfort me. In fact, I’m sure he is.”
    Libby looked at the number of people in front of the counter while Susan chattered on and felt like screaming. She had to get back to work.
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” she said to Susan. “And I’d like to hear all about it sometime. But . . .”
    â€œYes, yes.” Susan waved her free hand in the air. “The tyranny of the commonplace. I know. You have customers to wait on. I’m sorry to be taking up so much of your time.”
    â€œNo problem.” Libby kept smiling until Susan Andrews went out the door; then she ran over to Bernie and pulled her away from the customer she was in the middle of serving.
    â€œWe have a problem,” she told Bernie. “A big one.”

Chapter 9
    F our hours later Libby was in the store kitchen forming the crab cakes for Nigel’s party and mentally going over her to-do list when Tiffany walked through the door. Libby took one look at Tiffany’s face and told Amber to take over.
    â€œI’m making you a chicken salad sandwich,” she told Tiffany.
    Tiffany put her hand to her throat. “I can’t eat.”
    â€œOh, yes, you can.”
    And while Tiffany watched, Libby took two pieces of peasant bread, spread them with honey mustard, and then put on a layer of chicken salad, which was composed of poached chicken, homemade mayonnaise, chopped walnuts, and halved green grapes. Then she wrapped the sandwich up and grabbed a bottle of water. At least Tiffany wasn’t drunk, she thought. Or not so she could notice.
    â€œWe’re going to the pond.”
    â€œYou’re busy.”
    â€œI can use a fifteen-minute break. My back is killing me. Anyway”—Libby gestured to Googie, who’d just come in the door in answer to her call—“I have three people working. It’ll be fine.”
    â€œIf you say so,” Tiffany said, repeating the tag line of one of their old jokes.
    â€œI do.”
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    The pond was officially called the Spenser Durant Swan Pond, and Libby and Tiffany had been going there since they were in junior high. Libby watched Tiffany out of the corner of her eye as the two women walked down the street. She looked as if she was fighting back tears. But she didn’t say anything, and Libby managed to contain herself until they got to the pond.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been?” she demanded once they reached it. “Don’t you check your messages?”
    â€œI was at a motel near Wyckoff. I just needed to think.”
    â€œWell, next time you do that, think to call me first.”
    â€œSorry.” Tiffany twisted the gold chain around her neck. “I’ve always liked it here,” she said as she watched the swans gliding on the water. “Especially when the lilacs are blooming.”
    â€œIt is nice,” Libby agreed.
    Libby sat down on a bench, and Tiffany did the same. For a moment all of Tiffany’s attention was taken up watching a little boy and his mother throwing bread crusts to the swans.
    â€œThree kids wouldn’t be bad to have,” Tiffany said as the boy and his mother left.
    â€œIt’s not too late.” Libby unwrapped the sandwich. “You have to eat something.”
    â€œI’ll eat half if you eat half.”
    Libby groaned.
    â€œYou’re killing me. I had half a turkey sandwich a couple of hours ago.”
    â€œThat’s the deal,” Tiffany said. “Take it or leave it.”
    Libby unwrapped the sandwich, handed half to Tiffany, and bit into her half. “There. Happy?”
    â€œYes.” Tiffany took a bite. “I wish I could cook like you.”
    â€œAnd I wish I could do hair like you.”
    â€œWell. Not today,” Tiffany gestured to her head.
    Libby smiled and handed her the water bottle. “I still remember the first thing I cooked by myself. It was some kind of liver