Free Red Julie (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 2) by J A Whiting Page B

bike…and so late?”
    “This is all too much for me,” Joe said. He stopped chopping and looked off into space.
    “And Andersen took off for London out of the blue,” Olivia said.
    Joe turned towards Olivia. “But he often left unexpectedly. Hannigan said so,” Joe said.
    “Yeah, Andersen takes off right after Aggie is killed. And then he returns and dies the very same day. Something else must have been going on besides his work commitment.”
    Joe sighed. “I’m having a beer.”
    “What about chopping?” Olivia asked.
    “Task master,” Joe muttered.
    Olivia added spices and tomato paste to the meat and stirred to mix it together. She scooped it all from the frying pan into the large crock pot. She mixed mushrooms, spices, and tomato paste into the bulgur wheat for the vegetarian chili and poured that mixture into the smaller crock pot.
    “I’d like to look into what Andersen was doing in London,” Olivia said.
    Joe was sipping his beer, leaning against the island counter. “How?”
    “Are you done with those peppers and onions?” Olivia asked.
    Joe lifted the cutting board and divided the chopped vegetables equally between the two crock pots.
    “Well, to start with, I thought I would send an email to the hotel where Andersen always stayed to confirm that he was a guest there for the four weeks.”
    “They won’t tell you. Confidentiality,” Joe said.
    “I’ll say I’m with the police.”
    Joe’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that, for heaven’s sake. That would be impersonating a police officer.”
    “Would it?” Olivia said slyly.
    “Of course it would. You’d be arrested.”
    Olivia was preparing a salad. She glanced at the clock. “Joe, maybe you should get started on the corn muffins.” Joe walked around the kitchen island and pulled out the mixing bowl from under the counter.
    “Well, I could email the London hotel and say that I was hired by Rodney Hannigan to investigate the events of Andersen’s death,” Olivia said. “I could attach the newspaper story reporting the accident so they could see that it was legitimate.”
    “So now you’re a private investigator? You need a license for that, you know.” Joe cracked two eggs into the bowl.
    “I don’t intend to claim I’m a private investigator,” Olivia said. “I intend to imply .”
    Joe chuckled. “Go ahead. Give it a try. I’d be surprised if they tell you anything.”
    Olivia went to her laptop and sat in the kitchen chair.
    “Hey,” Joe said. “Not now. We’re cooking here.”
    “It’ll only take a minute.” Olivia’s fingers tapped on her keyboard. “Here’s the hotel contact information.” She did a bit more tapping. “There. Sent.”
    “How’d you write that so fast?” Joe asked, adding cornmeal to the mix.
    “I wrote it before I came over. I just wanted to run it by you. I changed the police part to ‘hired to investigate’ and then I sent it,” Olivia said. “If there’s any trouble, I’ll blame you since the email was sent through your wireless network connection.” She smiled.
    “Thanks a lot,” Joe said.
    “I’ll visit you in prison,” Olivia told him.
    ***
    Brad arrived for dinner with a bottle of white wine, a homemade blueberry cake, and a bouquet of pink gerber daisies. They sat outside at Joe’s patio table overlooking the Marginal Way and enjoyed the chili, salad, and cornbread. They reminisced about what mischievous children Brad and Olivia used to be.
    “I don’t know why I let you talk me into so much trouble,” Brad said to Olivia.
    “You instigated an equal share,” Olivia protested.
    “How about the time we cooked up the scheme to see how far north we could ride our bikes on Route 1?” Brad chuckled.
    “Yeah,” Joe said. “Only you both forgot that you had to ride back home. I get the telephone call at nine at night to come pick you up in the truck because you were both exhausted. Never mind we’re all worried senseless.”
    “What did Aggie used to say