Free Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko

his eyes. “I know I’m going to regret it, but yes, we’re a team. What do you want to know? I assume the subject has changed to murder?” He buttered another piece of fried dough and handed it to me with a grin.
    “Terry Roder. Have you ever heard of him?”
    “No, I don’t think so. Who is he?”
    Our waiter came and we both ordered the pumpkin-filled ravioli and some more fried dough.
    “A private investigator Mrs. Bryson hired to follow Mr. Bryson,” I began when the waiter had moved away, “but then Mr. Bryson found out and paid Terry to give his wife a bunch of bull and to start following a couple of women he was blackmailing.”
    “Humphrey Bryson was blackmailing women?”
    “Oh, yeah, and he was planning on divorcing his wife and said he wouldn’t give her a thing. Told her he would sooner kill her than see her get his money. But back to Terry Roder. Mrs. Bryson said he’s an ex cop. Could you check that out and let me know?”
    “Sure. No problem. The Indian Cove police department is at your service.”
    “Hey, we’re all on the same team, right? So that’s what I know so far. How about you? Anything you care to share with your wife?” I didn’t feel right sharing the private story Howard had told me. If it looked like the man might be a killer, I’d spill the beans to John, but for right now I felt safe keeping that information to myself, along with the fact that Humphrey paid Roder to look into Howard’s past.
    “Yeah, as a matter of fact. I’m not sure it has anything at all to do with his murder, but it seems Humphrey Bryson had quite a bit of plastic surgery.”
    Our plates arrived and I waited until the waiter left before commenting on this newest tidbit.
    “You mean he had a face lift? I guess even men feel their age and want to look good.”
    John shook his head. “No, it wasn’t recent and it wasn’t cosmetic. It was some major stuff. He had a nose job, and it looks like his chin was reshaped.”
    “Maybe he was in a terrible accident,” I said. Another thing I planned on asking Sophie.
    “And he was eighty-nine. I gotta tell you,” John said, as he blew on a hot ravioli, “the guy didn’t look that old to me.”
    “I’m sure the plastic surgery helped with that,” I said, as I rolled around some ideas about botoxing a few lines in my forehead.
    “Maybe. This is really good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” my husband said, as he speared another ravioli with his fork.
    I munched on another piece of bread while I thought about Humphrey Bryson’s surgery. And I had to wonder, was the man just vain or was there something more sinister behind his face alterations?

 
     
     
Chapter 18
     
     
    I stopped by my office because I didn’t think Sophie Bryson would appreciate my coming by at seven-thirty in the morning. To my surprise Sam was already there and I found her in the kitchen making a pot of coffee.
    “You’re here early,” I said, as I reached behind her and grabbed the tea kettle.
    “Michael’s taking the kids to school and I have a proposal to finish.”
    “Need any help?” I asked.
    “Nope. Millie should be in shortly and we’ve got it under control.”
    “Sam, look at me. Listen, I feel fine so I don’t want you treating me differently. Nothing’s going to change and I’m fully capable of pulling my own weight. Unless of course, someone gets killed then you’re on your own.” I gave her a smile.
    “Yeah, okay. Since mom started her treatment years ago, we can’t even tell anymore that she has RA. It’s not like it was when we were kids. That was horrible.”
    I thought back to times when my mother was so sore she could hardly get out of bed. Sam and I would make her lunch and bring it to her, and while we tried to act all grown up, it was scary to see our own mother so incapacitated. But things had progressed and even though I wasn’t too keen on all the crap I had to put into my body, it was better than the alternative.
    “I’ll