Fillet of Murder by Linda Reilly

crispy fried batter. Did the batter need a sprinkle of dried dill to enhance the flavor? Or maybe the tiniest bit of cayenne pepper to give it a little zing? What about a dipping sauce?
    â€œOh my gosh,” Whitnee said, her eyes popping wide open. “That was, like, amazing. Can I have another one?”
    â€œOf course!”
    Between the two of them, they polished off the fried pickle rounds within five minutes. After Whitnee had gulped down her last bite she pointed at the empty plate. “Oh no, we didn’t save any for Bea!”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll make some fresh ones for her when she gets back. In fact—” Talia tapped a finger to her lips. She aimed her gaze at the fryer and felt a slow grin splitting her face. “I think I have a better idea.”

9

    Save for a few stragglers, the arcade was quiet. Too quiet, Talia thought eerily, making her way toward Time for Tea with Bea at her side. In her hands she clutched an oval plate piled with fried pickle rounds. She’d prepared them at the last possible moment before closing time, and covered them with foil to keep them warm.
    â€œThat was a splendid thought, Tal,” Bea said. “In all my years of running a restaurant, I never thought of dunking pickle slices into the fryer.”
    â€œWell, we can thank Whitnee’s repulsive boyfriend for the idea. If he hadn’t ticked me off so supremely, I wouldn’t have grabbed that silly pickle from the cutting board in the first place!”
    Bea laughed. “Ah, well, sometimes things work out the way they’re supposed to.”
    â€œYou seem a bit more cheery than you were this morning,” Talia said.
    Bea nodded, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her black jacket. “I had a lovely chat with my Howie this afternoon. His color was a tad better, and the doctor said he might be able to go home in few days, if they can keep the infection under control. Whether or not he’ll come back to work anytime soon . . . well, I’m not so sure about that.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I guess time will tell, won’t it.”
    Talia bit her lip with concern. “Does Howie know about . . . ?”
    â€œThe murder? Yes, it’s not like I could keep it from him. He has a telly in his room, and the bloomin’ thing is always on. Anyway, I made light of the whole incident. I don’t need him worrying his poor self over me when his health is at stake.”
    â€œLike you could stop him,” Talia said, knowing how close the two were. A wave of guilt swept over her. She’d visited Howie only once during his hospital stay. She made a mental promise to herself to pop in and see him either on Saturday or Sunday.
    The two front windows of Time for Tea cast a soft, golden glow over the cobblestone at the entrance to the charming shop. Bea held open the door for her and they both stepped inside.
    A host of aromas assailed Talia’s senses. Citrus and cloves and pumpkin and apple, each scent vying for dominance in the cozy tea shop.
    Suzy Sato had arrived early. Her springy red curls bounding around her face, she hugged Bea first, and then Talia. Her blue eyes looked brighter than ever—glowing, in fact. Taliawondered if it was Turnbull’s untimely departure that made her beam with such apparent joy.
    â€œCan I peek?” Suzy said, looking at the tray Talia was carrying.
    â€œAbsolutely.” Talia pulled back a corner of the foil.
    Suzy clapped her hands. “Ooh, they look scrumptious. What are they?”
    â€œDeep-fried pickle rounds,” Bea chimed in. “Talia’s idea, and a brilliant one at that.” She peeled off her jacket and tucked it under her arm.
    â€œWhy don’t you set them over there,” Suzy said. She indicated a long display counter, over which a runner the color of burnished gold had been draped. Atop the runner were several flowered