A Fatal Twist of Lemon by Patrice Greenwood Page B

answer the familiar round of questions.
    â€œI understand this death is now being investigated as a homicide,” the reporter told me in the glare of their lights.
    â€œThe police haven’t informed me of that,” I said blandly, hoping that little soundbite would make it onto the evening news and into Detective Aragón’s awareness. As my equilibrium returned, I was feeling less frightened and more annoyed with him.
    I shooed the news crew out the door at ten to four and heaved a sigh of relief at finally being done with the interviews. I hoped Gina would be satisfied. For my part I doubted it would bring us any business, but at least now maybe the media would leave me alone.
    Yesterday’s news.
    I glanced at the seating chart. We had two reservations at five. I was beginning to give up hope for Friday, but maybe Saturday would be better. Or next week. People who didn’t know Sylvia, who only saw the story on the news, would have forgotten about it by then, even if the rest of us hadn’t.
    Poor Sylvia. To be relegated to the back page before she was even in the ground.
    What had she done that had made someone want to kill her? Was it something she’d said at the tea? I couldn’t remember her saying anything that provocative, though there had been some undercurrents in the conversation that I hadn’t fully understood.
    If her murderer was someone at the tea, and I felt pretty certain it was, then he or she had decided to kill her during the tea or as it was breaking up. Someone impulsive, who had a reason for wanting Sylvia dead.
    The bells on the front door tinkled as a party of three women in business attire came in. I greeted them warmly, by this point feeling profound gratitude toward every customer who crossed the threshold. I showed them to their seats in Jonquil and informed Dee and Vi of their arrival, then poked my head into the kitchen looking for Nat. She was at the work table talking with Mick and Julio.
    â€œI’m going out for a bit,” I told her. “There’s a party of walk-ins, and two reservations at five. You can let the girls handle it if you want.”
    â€œAll right, dear,” she said, getting up. “I do have to get ready for dinner. Manny’s offered to take us out, given the circumstances. You are still going to join us?”
    I stifled a sigh. “Can I take a rain check? Sorry, but I think I’d better make an early night of it. I was up late last night.”
    â€œOf course,” said Nat. “Maybe tomorrow.”
    Julio stood up and reached for his jacket on the corner coat rack. “Think I’ll go, too, if it’s okay. The pâté and the brioche are done. I’ll come in early to do the last minute stuff for the opening.”
    I suppressed a groan. I still had all the flowers to deal with, not to mention straightening up the mess Detective Aragón and his flunkies had made of my suite. Maybe I wasn’t going to make an early night of it after all.
    â€œThanks, Julio,” I said. “You want a ride to your place? It’s still raining pretty hard.”
    He glanced toward the window. “If you’ve got time.”
    â€œSure. I’ll just get my purse.”
    I ran upstairs to my suite and grabbed my wool coat and a scarf as well as my purse. I locked the door again, then looked into Kris’s office.
    â€œI’m going out. Might not be back by the time you leave. Any important messages?”
    She shook her head. “It’s been quiet all afternoon.”
    â€œHow does tomorrow look?”
    She gave a small, rueful smile. “Pretty quiet.”
    I tried not to wince. “Cancellations?”
    â€œA couple.”
    â€œHm. Well, thanks.”
    I hurried back downstairs, shrugging into my coat. Julio met me at the back door and we walked along the porch to the back of the kitchen, where I parked my car.
    Julio was silent as I drove down the alley to Marcy,