Death Dines Out by Claudia Bishop Page A

these meetings?"

"Well, Chef Jean Paul, of course. He's the director. And each of the heads of the five other kitchens: des:. sects, entrees, breads, and so on. And me. And the board of directors, those of them that are here. This month we've got two of the five: Mrs. Gollinge, and Mrs. McIntyre."

The lights flickered and went out. "Oh, no," Linda wailed. "Not now, dammit. Please not now, with the board of directors here!"

The lights went back on.

"Birdie and Bea," Quill said.

"The Merry Widows," Linda said with a smile. "Plus Selma, of course, although she won't be here today. We're very lucky in our board."

"Eleven," said Quill. "That's eleven people. Who's the twelfth?"

"I assumed that Maitre Quilliam would be with you."

"Meg? I don't think so. She's in the middle of a class with the student chefs."

"That's right. I should have known that, because Chef Bruce, the man…ge … gare, was quite put out that he would miss seeing Meg teach. The others, I'm afraid, took the high road - you know how chefs can be - what could a rival teach you - and a woman! They're all frantic, of course, over the competition. Now, I wonder." She frowned. "Mr. Taylor said two guests would be here, I'm sure of it."

The door to the classroom swung open and Bea and Birdie marched in. Bea's track suit this morning was white and gold, with silver metal stars scattered across the breast of the jacket. Birdie wore a Chanel suit in a vibrant pink tweed with black velvet collar and cuffs. She had a long strand of pearls draped around her neck, and her eyeglasses hung from a lapis lazuli chain that reached the last button on the jacket. Quill began to get an inkling about the high level of the air conditioning allover southern Florida: How else could you wear expensive outfits in the heat?

"It's Quill!" Birdie said with warm pleasure. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Mrs. Gollinge, Mrs. McIntyre. Please sit down." Linda fluttered around them like a distressed bobwhite. "I was sorry to hear that Mrs. Goldwyn is indisposed. Is she feeling better?"

"Eyelashes," said Birdie. "She's getting them dyed this morning. And of course, with that face peel she had yesterday, she won't be fit to be seen for at least ten days, so as far as I'm concerned, she should have waited."

"Which means she'll miss the cooking courses," Bea sighed. "Poor Selma! But we're ready to roll. We've signed up for Meg's classes, did we tell you?"

"Yes, you did," Quill said. "There are twelve chairs here, Birdie," Bea said. "Are you and your sister going to join us, Quill?"

"I don't think that Meg is. I don't know who the twelfth is for."

"My two favorite widows!" Verger Taylor boomed. He walked into the classroom with an air both expectant and threatening. Ernst Kolsacker and a large man in a pin-striped suit were with him. The unknown man was well barbered, with a clean-shaven pink face, and a full head of recently clipped white hair. The suit must have been miserably hot in any temperature higher than sixty-five degrees. He was chewing gum.

Ernst was in his golf shirt and chinos. He gave Quill an impish smile. Both he and the suited man ranged themselves against the side of the wall.

"Verger?" Bea put her gold-trimmed glasses to her eyes, then let them fall again. "And Franklin. Quill? You've already met Ernst. This is Franklin Carmichael, Verger's lawyer." Her face closed in displeasure. "Frank? Are you chewing gum?"

He blushed. "Sorry. It's that nicotine gum. I'm trying to quit smoking." Both Verger and Franklin Carmichael seemed taken aback by this attack, which may, Quill thought to herself, have been Bea' s intention. Ernst gave her a large wink. Quill bit back a snort of laughter and sat down.

"Spit it out at once, please." Franklin took the gum from his mouth and wrapped it in his handkerchief. Bea rounded on Taylor. "I didn't expect to see you here, Verger. What's going on? Is it true? I heard that you've bought the buildings here. You're a damn fool