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Authors: Isis Crawford

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BOOK: A Catered Murder
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“I'm sorry,” Bernie told her.
“You might want to check with me before you make changes in the business.”
“It just came out. I didn't think anyone would take it seriously.”
“Lydia's mother has.”
Bernie grabbed one of the strawberries sitting in the colander by the sink and bit into it.
“Actually, when you think about it, it's a good idea.”
“Fine. Then you can run the food over,” Libby said and turned back to the ginger she was working on.
“Okay.” Bernie wondered how her sister could mince anything so fast and not cut her fingers. “I have to go back anyway.”
“How so?”
“I still have to talk to Lydia's neighbors.”
Chapter 37
L
ibby moved her hand as the waitress grabbed her water glass and refilled it. Ordinarily, Libby would have said something about the spots on the glass, but not here. At Julie's Diner, service might not be elegant, and the silverware and glasses weren't pristine, but the food was good and the waitstaff hustled.
Bernie thought, and for once Libby had to agree with her, that Julie's still made the best hamburgers and coconut cream pie in town. Their fried onions weren't shabby either.
As Libby looked at Orion sitting in the booth across from her, she could almost believe that time hadn't passed.
“Which is the whole point of going to that place,” Libby could hear Bernie saying in her head. “He wants you to forget about the last ten years.”
Libby banished Bernie's voice as she watched the waitress behind the counter deliver a BLT to a man sitting on the far end. Orion leaned forward.
“Come on,” he urged. “Finish your French fries.”
Libby shook her head. Ever since last night, when Bernie had come back from talking to Lydia's neighbors, her appetite had deserted her. Which only happened when she was really upset.
And that wasn't good.
Because when she wasn't hungry she didn't feel like cooking.
And if she didn't cook she'd lose her business and everyone would be out on the street.
Of course, when she'd said that to Bernie, Bernie had just rolled her eyes and told her to stop being a drama queen.
Orion lifted a French fry and tasted it.
“Let's see,” he said holding it out in front of him. “The color is a little off. Probably because it was cooked at a hundred and fifty degrees for six minutes instead of six degrees for a hundred and fifty minutes. And the salt . . . the salt I believe is harvested from a beach on the south of France, where one family has been doing it for the last five hundred years.”
Libby laughed despite herself.
“Stop making fun of my sister,” she told Orion.
“I can't help it. She's such an easy target.”
“She is, isn't she?”
“No one needs Encarta with her around. She should go on one of those quiz shows.”
“That's what I told her.”
Orion finished the French fry, picked up another one, and dangled it in front of Libby.
She shook her head.
“I'm supposed to be losing weight.”
“Says who?” Orion demanded.
“Says everyone.”
“Well, they're wrong.” And Orion squeezed Libby's hand.
She was glad she'd called Orion up. People did change—no matter what Bernie said.
Orion gestured to the T-shirt Libby had bought at Janet's.
“You should get more stuff like that. You look good in it.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
Libby watched Orion eat another French fry off her plate.
“I think I'll have everything worked out with Sukie soon,” he told her. “Bree said she could find me a nice place out here. Nothing too big. I never did like the city much,” he reflected.
“That's nice.”
“Just nice? Then we'll be able to see more of each other. I thought you'd be happy.”
“I am,” Libby hastened to reassure him.
She was, wasn't she? She had to be. She'd wanted nothing else for the past ten years.
“It's just that I feel so bad about Tiffany,” she explained.
Orion wiped his fingers with the paper napkin on the table.
“You've done the best you could. After all, the police didn't come up with anything.”
“The police never looked. Not really.”
“Maybe they're right.”
Libby shook her head.
“No, they're not. I just keep thinking there's something I'm missing.”
“Like what?”
Libby started to bite her lip and made herself stop.
“If I knew, I wouldn't be asking. Maybe I should talk to Lydia's neighbors,” she said to Orion. Even though Bernie already had, it wouldn't hurt to hear what they had to say again.
Orion took his hands in hers.
“Libby, Libby, Libby,” he murmured.
“What?” Libby asked him, aware of the feeling of his flesh on hers.
Even though the air-conditioning was on in the diner she suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.
“One of the things I love about you is your persistence, but you have to know when to give up.”
“That's what my dad said.”
Orion let go of Libby's hands and sat back.
“I can't believe we're in agreement about anything.”
“Amazing, isn't it?” Libby took a sip of her water. “It's just that I can't imagine Tiffany killing two people.”
“But she confessed.”
“I don't care. I still can't believe it.”
Orion ate another French fry.
“I can.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Tiffany's got quite a temper.”
“Not like that.”
Orion balled up his napkin and threw it on the plate.
“People always think they know people, and the trouble is they don't.”
“What are you saying?” Libby demanded.
“Just what I said. You want a piece of pie?”
Libby shook her head as she studied Orion's face. The thought,
He's hiding something,
popped into her head.
“I want to know what you mean,” she insisted.
Orion frowned.
“All I meant is that sometimes people do things that they're not too proud of and they don't talk to other people about them, okay?”
“What did Tiffany do? Specifically.”
Orion signaled for the waitress and asked for a piece of coconut cream pie when she came over.
“You're like a pit bull,” he told Libby when the waitress walked away.
“What did Tiffany do?” Libby insisted.
“She didn't do anything. I was using her as an example.”
“No, you weren't.”
Libby watched Orion watch the waitress as she took the pie out of the cooler and cut a slice and put it on a plate.
“This is one of your most unattractive qualities,” Orion told her as the waitress started towards them.
“Really?” Libby could feel her cheeks get red.
How could she have forgotten how charming Orion could be one minute and how evasive the next? She never really knew what he was thinking.
“Yes,” Orion replied. “Now let's just drop the topic.”
Libby watched the waitress put the pie down in front of Orion. He lifted his fork and took a bite.
“Tiff isn't worth getting that worked up over. Face it. She's an impulsive person. Like when she got that tattoo of Bugs Bunny on her back.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Tiff told me.”
“Oh,” Libby said. “And since when are you calling her Tiff?”
“Everyone does.”
“No, they don't. Only the people closest to her do.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Interesting.” Orion picked up his fork again. “This is good pie. Are you sure you don't want a taste?”
“I'm sure.” And suddenly Libby knew what Orion was hiding. She didn't know how she did, but she did.
“You slept with her, didn't you?”
Orion looked up.
“Tiffany?” He snorted. “Don't be stupid. When would I have the time?”
“Not now. Before. When you and I were going out together.”
“That's ridiculous,” Orion said, but Libby could tell that he was lying.
“No, it's not.”
Orion didn't say anything.
“For how long?” Libby said. “How long?” The words came out through gritted teeth.
“Five years. But it wasn't that often. Just every now and then. It didn't mean anything.”
“How could it not mean anything?”
“It just didn't.”
Libby got up and walked over to Orion's side of the booth. Orion looked up at her.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“This.”
Libby saw Orion's jaw drop as she picked up the plate with the coconut pie.
He can't believe I'm doing it,
she thought as she pushed it into his face. Then she marched out the door and called Bernie on her cell phone.
Chapter 38
“Y
ou feel better?” Bernie asked Libby. Libby nodded. “Much. Thanks for coming to get me.”
“No problem,” Bernie told her. “It would have been a pity to have ruined a good exit by going back into Julie's and using the phone.”
Libby didn't say she hadn't because she'd been too embarrassed to. She, Bernie, and Rob were sitting by the swan pond, watching the street lights reflect off the water.
Rob handed her a beer.
“Have one.”
“Really, I shouldn't.”
“Really you should,” Rob insisted.
Libby took it.
“I wish I had been there,” Bernie said.
“It was pretty funny,” Libby admitted. Despite herself she started chuckling, thinking about it. “Seeing him like that.”
“I bet,” Bernie said.
“I can't believe I did it,” Libby mused.
“He deserved it,” Rob said.
“You think so?” Libby asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I second the motion,” Bernie added. “Now drink up.”
Libby took a sip of her beer. As the liquid slid down her throat, she found herself automatically analyzing its taste. There was a hint of bitterness followed by a taste of cinnamon and a slight sweetness she couldn't pin down.
“This isn't bad,” she noted.
“Brooklyn Brown, baby. Brooklyn Brown,” Rob said.
Libby watched the willow leaves swaying in the breeze.
“You know,” she told Bernie and Rob after a couple of minutes had gone by, “I think at some level I've always known. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.”
“I'm sorry,” Bernie said.
“No need,” Libby told her. “I feel fine, I really do.” She paused for a moment. “I don't understand, but hearing about Tiffany . . . pushing that pie in Orion's face. It's like I'm over this long, lingering disease. I'm finally over Orion.”
And when she said it, Libby knew it was true.
“I'll drink to that,” Rob said.
“On to better men,” Bernie added.
“I just can't believe that Tiffany would . . . did . . .”
“Sleep with Orion?” Bernie finished for her.
“Yes, and then go on as if nothing had ever happened. I mean, I used to cry on her shoulder about Orion and she was sleeping with him all that time! How could she? I don't get it.”
Rob tapped his fingers on his beer bottle.
“Maybe it wasn't such a big deal to Tiffany.”
Libby turned towards him.
“How could it not be? I was her best friend.”
Rob shrugged.
“Some people think of sex more like recreation.”
“Like she thought they were playing golf?” Libby asked as she watched Rob put his bottle down on the grass.
“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “Only in this game they were using two balls instead of one.”
Bernie punched Rob in the arm.
“What?” he said to Bernie. “It's true.”
Libby turned what Rob had said over in her mind.
“I think you might be right,” she said at last.
Rob laughed.
“I always am.”
Bernie punched him in the arm again.
“Ouch,” Rob cried. “That hurt.”
“It was supposed to,” Bernie told him.
As Rob was rubbing his bicep, something else occurred to Libby.
“You didn't know about Tiffany and Orion, did you?” she asked her sister.
“No.” Bernie held up her hand. “I swear I didn't.”
“Would you have told me if you had?”
“I would have tried.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Bernie said, “that most people in your situation don't want to listen. When I look back, I realize a couple of people tried to tell me about Joe and my friend. I just didn't want to hear it.”
Libby was taking another hefty gulp of her beer when Rob turned towards her.
“So tell me,” he said, “do you still think Tiffany didn't do it? Inquiring minds want to know.”
Libby shook her head. “Three hours ago I would have said absolutely not. Now I'm not sure.”
Bernie cracked her knuckles.
“Dad always says the simplest solution is usually the right one.”
Libby sighed.
“I really feel like a moron.”
“Well, you know what they say about love blinds,” Rob said.
Bernie cleared her throat. “I believe the line is, ‘
Love comes from Blindness, Friendship comes from knowledge.'
Comte de Bussy-Rabutin.”
“Obviously not in this case, “ Rob replied.
“You have a better quote?” Bernie asked him.
“Yes. This.”
Libby watched Rob as he reached down, plucked a handful of grass, and threw it at Bernie.
She laughed and threw some back.
Suddenly, before Libby knew how it happened, the three of them were having a grass fight. As Libby giggled and tried to stuff some down Bernie's T-shirt, she realized that she felt lighthearted for the first time in a long time.
BOOK: A Catered Murder
13.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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