Free Ellen McKenzie 03-And Murder for Desser by Kathleen Delaney

these things, and we got to chatting, and well, I haven’t seen Frank since.”
    “A fine man, Frank,” Ian Applby said. “I’ve known him for years. I can’t for the life of me understand why he sold Tortelli’s. That restaurant was his life’s blood.”
    I wanted to know more about Frank and his restaurant, but before I had a chance to ask there was a voice in my ear. “Ellen. There you are.” A hand rested on my shoulder. I jumped badly. Thank goodness there was no glass in my hand. “Hello, Mrs. McGill, Mr. Applby, Dan. Ellen, how do you like the dinner so far?”
    It was Larry Whittaker. I had forgotten all about him, but here he was, smiling that proprietary little smile.
    “It’s wonderful, Larry.”
    “Good. I’m especially looking forward to your opinion of the dessert. That is my creation, no matter what Otto says. You will let me know how you like it?”
    “Of course.” I barely got that out before he rushed away. His hat didn’t bob as much as Otto’s. Why, I wondered, but quickly decided I didn’t want to find out.
    “It seems you have an admirer,” Ian Applby smiled.
    “No. Larry and I knew each other in high school, that’s all.” I took a look at Dan out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t paying attention to us. Instead, he was looking at the picture window that looked out on the wine tanks.
    “Did you know there’s some kind of catwalk up around the top of those tanks?” Dan asked.
    “Yes,” I answered.
    “You can barely see it. I’ll bet you can see the whole cellar floor from that window, though,” he went on. “What a great idea. You can watch the winemaker, or whoever, do whatever he does.”
    Mr. Applby smiled. “It’s especially interesting when they are blending the wine, putting the raw juice into the tanks, or emptying the tanks into the barrels. You can watch the whole thing from the comfort of the tasting room, glass of the finished product in hand.”
    I thought Dan was going to get up and take in the view, but the waiters were filling glasses and serving plates. The lamb course kept him in his seat.
    Jolene sat down, fresh lipstick in place, followed immediately by Carlton.
    “I was talking to the mayor,” he began in a ponderous tone.
    “We saw you,” said Dan. He took his first bite of lamb. It must have been good. He paused, took another bite, and smiled.
    Aunt Mary examined Jolene carefully and said, “Are you all right? You were a long time in the bathroom.”
    Jolene looked startled. “I’m fine, just fine.” She reached for her wineglass. “It was my hair. It just wouldn’t cooperate at all. You know how that is.” She smiled at me.
    I wasn’t prepared for that little barb, so my usual snappy comeback didn’t come. Dan, however, came to the rescue. He leaned over the table toward Jolene. “Tell us your opinion of the meal, so far. Is this up to Otto’s usual standard?”
    Jolene, who hadn’t as yet tasted anything on her plate, looked a little surprised and quickly snatched up a fork, gingerly dipping it in the sauce. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than that when Frank slid into his place, looking harried. He was followed closely by Mark.
    “What have we here?” Frank took a deep breath and picked up his fork. “Hmm. Lamb, the sauce is a little tricky. You can overdo the mint. Stir-fried vegetables, they don’t look too bad, and Mark’s wine. Shall we try it?”
    We did. Conversation stopped. The lamb disappeared; the fromage course arrived, and all plates, except Jolene’s, were empty before it started again.
    I had leaned back a little in my chair, blocking out the talk, when I saw Sabrina. She was outside the now closed French doors, waving at me frantically.
    “What now?” I pushed back my chair.
    “Where are you going?” asked Aunt Mary.
    “Outside. I need a little air.” Sabrina was still signaling, but with more gestures. Now her finger was over her lips, and she was shaking her head. Then she pointed to me and