For Better or Hearse by Laura Durham Page B

“Finally, his career was the one put on ice.”
    Ice? I straightened up with a jerk. Could he be talking about Henri? Who else?
    â€œI only wish I could have seen the look on his face,” Marcello added.
    I pressed against the door to see more clearly, and the hinge creaked.
    Marcello froze. “Hold on a second. I think I heard something.”
    With my heart pounding, I let the door go and spun around. I ran back to the front of the house, passing Kate and Richard in the sitting room. I kept running to the foyer, motioning them to follow me.
    â€œWait for us,” Kate cried, grabbing both of our purses.
    Richard stood holding an empty glass of champagneas Kate hurried away. “What’s the rush? They’re holding the table for us.”
    â€œCome on.” I gave a nervous glance toward the kitchen door. “I’ll tell you once we’re out of here. It’s about Henri’s murder.”
    Richard’s shoulders sagged. “Again?”
    I nodded. “A suspect just moved to the front of the line.”

Chapter 14
    â€œCoy does not become you, Annabelle.” Richard stepped out of his convertible after parking next to us in the Georgetown lot. We’d taken separate cars to the restaurant so we wouldn’t have to drive Richard back to Capitol Hill after dinner. It was early enough that we’d found space in the tiny public lot next to Mie N Yu.
    â€œI’m not being coy. I just want to wait until we’re sitting in the restaurant to tell you. Someone could overhear us on the street.”
    â€œWho?” Richard looked around us. “A homeless person or a Hari Krishna?”
    â€œLess talking, more walking.” Kate passed us and strode down the sidewalk toward the brick red and gold facade of the restaurant with sheer yellow curtains fluttering in the doorway. “I’m dying for a martini.”
    â€œYou shameless hussy.”
    I recognized Fern’s voice immediately. Or maybe it was his vocabulary I recognized. Who else called people hussies to their face? I turned to find him standing behind us wearing a long black Nehru jacket with an ornate silver cross hanging down the front. If I didn’t know better, I’d have pegged him for a priest. Although the slicked back ponytail and giant rings on his fingers were a bit of a giveaway.
    Kate spun around with a smirk on her face. “Look who’s talking.”
    â€œI am a man of the cloth.” He looked wounded, then grinned at us. “You wouldn’t believe how nice people are to you when you’re a priest.”
    Richard shook his head. “You do know you’re not really a priest, right?”
    â€œI’m a hairdresser. It’s close enough,” Fern explained. “I take confessions exactly like they do.”
    Richard frowned. “But priests don’t spread the stories they hear all over town.”
    â€œA technicality, I’m sure.” Fern dismissed Richard with a wave of his hands. “What I want to know is why you’re tying one on at five-thirty? Isn’t it a little early?”
    â€œNot after the meeting we just had.” Kate sighed. “A nightmare bride.”
    Fern’s face lit up. “Worse than the one who had me put three tiaras in her weave? Do tell.”
    I looked at Richard, who shrugged his shoulders, and then I turned to Fern. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”
    â€œOnly if I wouldn’t be imposing,” Fern said as he linked arms with Kate and led the way into Mie N Yu without a backward glance.
    As I followed them through the opening in the restaurant doorway’s sheer curtains, my eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the low lighting inside. Mie NYu had been designed around the travels of Marco Polo, so there were tons of low tables surrounded by luxurious cushions, tables perched high in cages, and red fabric cascading from the ceiling. Kind of an East meets West meets