Free A Catered Murder by Isis Crawford Page B

and eggplant pate.”
    Tiffany made a face.
    â€œIt looked so disgusting I threw it in the garbage without even tasting it,” Libby reminisced.
    â€œI went to an AA meeting last night,” Tiffany said.
    Libby reached over and squeezed her hand. “That’s good.”
    â€œRemember when Orion broke off your engagement?”
    Libby nodded. She didn’t think she’d ever forget.
    â€œAnd you couldn’t get out of bed for a week.”
    â€œI felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach.”
    â€œAnd you were too embarrassed to leave the house.”
    â€œAnd you practically dressed me and made me go out to dinner with you.”
    â€œWell, before Lionel . . . you know . . . died.” Tiffany swallowed. “He told me he was getting married.”
    â€œThat’s terrible.”
    Libby hugged Tiffany.
    â€œHe said it was just this PR thing, but I didn’t believe him. I told him . . . well . . . I told him awful things. I feel so horrible.” Tiffany burst into tears. “Those were the last words I ever said to him.”
    â€œSsssh.” Libby stroked Tiffany’s hair.
    â€œAnd now I can’t even think of anything else,” Tiffany gasped. “I blew off my appointments. Even old Mrs. Randall.”
    â€œShe’ll manage,” Libby said as she rocked Tiffany back and forth.
    Finally Tiffany quieted down.
    â€œSo,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Not to change the subject or anything, but what did Orion have to say?”
    â€œHe’s separating from Sukie.”
    Tiffany patted Libby’s hand.
    â€œBe careful.”
    â€œI intend to be.” Libby moved her neck one way and then another, working out a kink in it. “He gave me some glass beads that he made.”
    â€œWhat is a glass bead?”
    â€œIt’s like a large marble.”
    Tiffany shifted around in her seat. “Personally I think you deserve a diamond ring.”
    â€œI like these better because he made them.”
    Tiffany rolled her eyes. “You really are hopeless.” Then she turned her attention back to the pond. “What happened to the black swan?” she asked Libby.
    â€œHe died. Which reminds me.” Libby consulted her watch. “I was supposed to be down at the police station ten minutes ago.”

Chapter 10
    â€œA nd I thought doing food styling was grueling,” Bernie said to herself as she arranged mini crab cakes on a bed of watercress. Here it was seven o’clock at night and she, Amber, and Libby were in Nigel’s kitchen getting ready to serve dinner when she should have been relaxing with a martini. In the TV studio, someone served her food, not the opposite way around.
    â€œAt least the kitchen is air-conditioned,” Bernie observed, trying to be positive.
    Libby grunted and turned up the heat under the sauté pan.
    â€œAnd we got our stuff back from the police.”
    Libby nodded and kept her eyes fixed on the pieces of chicken she was sautéing.
    Bernie studied her sister for a moment. Libby had been acting preoccupied ever since they’d gotten their stuff out of the cafeteria, but then, Bernie reflected, her sister always had been sensitive to pressure and today had been a bitch.
    â€œAre you sure you’re all right?” she asked.
    â€œI’ll be better after this meal is served,” Libby allowed. “It’s been a long day.”
    â€œIt certainly has,” Bernie agreed and changed the subject. “Everyone likes the crab cakes.”
    â€œAs well they should.” Libby slid another piece of chicken into the sauté pan on the stove. The store was known for her mother’s crab and sweet potato cakes.
    Bernie looked around. “How much do you think Herron spent on this kitchen?”
    â€œFifty thousand. At least,” estimated Libby as she eyed the granite countertops, brushed steel appliances, tile floor, and