A Premonition of Murder by Mary Kennedy

experiment paid off big-time.
    The backyard is small but charming, with coral and white impatiens lining an oyster shell pathway. We found a few wrought iron tables and chairs at a tag sale, and Ali madeseat cushions and tablecloths. The Harper sisters keep us supplied with fresh pink carnations in mason jars for each table.
    The customers love sitting under the beautiful live oaks, lingering over coffee and pastries, and we have some regulars who show up every day. Sometimes there’s an overflow crowd, but the breakfast bar inside the shop will accommodate half a dozen more people. Right now, we’re only open in the daytime, but we’re thinking of stringing Japanese lanterns in the trees and staying open one or two evenings a week. With a business, you’re always planning, always wondering how to make a splash in a competitive market.
    Plus we’re running a thriving takeout business. Ali passed out flyers and discount coupons to the businesses in the Historic District, and now a lot of office workers order their lunches ahead of time and come dashing in to pick them up.
    â€œWhat do you think of the candy buttons?” Dana asked. She was holding rolls of white paper with tiny candy buttons on them, a favorite “back in the day.”
    â€œWhat do you plan on doing with them?” I have no design sense and love to watch Dana work her magic with these displays.
    â€œWell, first I thought of just hanging them from the ceiling, but then I decided they might look like flypaper,” she said with a giggle.
    â€œI see your point.” Ali laughed. “I think you’re right. They can’t hang straight down. How about draping them from the ceiling, sort of like Roman shades? You could arrange them in graceful arcs and fasten them with thumbtacks. And you could give a twist to them, like you do with crepe paper.”
    â€œI like that idea,” Dana said. “It would add a nice touch. You’ve solved the problem.”
    We left Dana to finish the window display and went backto our breakfast. The shop would be opening in another half hour, and there were a lot of things I wanted to discuss with Ali. She pulled out some covered containers from the refrigerator and started working on the lunch specials.
    We always offer homemade salads, soups, and sandwiches. Lately, we’ve added paninis and a flatbread menu, but those items are made fresh for each customer. The soups, salads, and desserts are all labor-intensive, but customers appreciate the fact that we use all fresh ingredients with no preservatives.
    One time, a whole family insisted on having their sandwiches made with soft white sliced bread. We make our own sandwiches on delicious whole-grain bread delivered fresh each day from a local bakery. Instead of telling the family that we didn’t have any of their favorite bread on hand, Ali dashed to a nearby supermarket and bought some. The first rule of business is to give the customers what they want.
    â€œWhat’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, deftly mincing a cooked chicken breast and adding celery and spices. Ali is a vegetarian, but she makes the best chicken salad sandwich in town, and the secret is cream cheese. Our friend, the restaurateur Caroline LaCroix, taught her how to make it. And Caroline insists that it should be served only on a fresh croissant.
    â€œI think we need to pay a few visits in town,” I told her. “I want to see Noah and I’d like to drop by and see that lawyer, Norman Osteroff. I think it would be worth it to have a quick chat with Lucy, the housekeeper. She could certainly tell me a little about Desiree, Abigail’s sister.” It occurred to me that the two deaths could be related, although at the moment, I didn’t see how.
    â€œIt sounds like you’ve got a full day planned,” Ali said, wrinkling her brow in concentration.
    â€œDo you want to divide up or shall we go together?”
    She