Death Dines Out by Claudia Bishop Page B

"And your husband?"

"Oh, I'm not married."

"But engaged to be." Bea took her left hand. "Quarter caret. Nice. What's he in?"

"In? You mean what does he do? He used to be chief of detectives with the Manhattan homicide squad. He's a private investigator now. For a short time, he ws the sheriff in Hemlock Falls. That's where Meg and I are from."

"A detective!" said Birdie. "How exciting. Does he look like Travis McGee?"

Quill smiled. "I think he's better-looking than Travis McGee."

"And he's with you now, dear?"

"He's coming Thursday, for a long weekend."

"I see Mrs. McIntyre and Mrs. Gollinge have been entertaining you." Linda Longstreet settled opposite Quill with a sigh. She was paler than ever, and she shivered in the chill of the air conditioning. "You've been introduced? Mrs. Gollinge and Mrs. McIntyre are on our board of directors, Quill."

"We've gotten most of her life history," said Bea. "And we'll get the rest if you give us half a chance. How are you, Linda? I see that Chef Quilliam must have arrived, since her sister's here in the restaurant."

"Oh, were you among the audience waiting this morning?" asked Quill. "I'm so sorry we missed the souffl‚s. I hadn't drive I-95 before, you see, and it was all my fault."

"You drove the freeway?' Bea said. "My dear, say nomore. Say no more. What an awful experience for you. Bruce! Bring Ms. Quilliam some wine."

"I really think I should eat something first," said Quill.

"Nonsense," Bea said briskly. "Birdie, slice her some of our bread, No, no, you just sit there, my dear."

Birdie bounced up and over to her table, grabbed the bread, and bounced back again. Bruce came over with a chilled bottle wrapped in a napkin. Quill sat rather helplessly and watched. She nibbled at the bread, sipped at the wine, and decided to remain quiet.

Bea tapped her forefinger briskly on the tabletop. "And how are things going, Linda? Everything straightened out after that little contretemps with the plumbing this morning?"

"Well, the plumbing's fixed, but the electrical system's on the fritz again." She picked up the menu, set it down, tapped her fingers against the water glass, then signaled for the headwaiter.

"You don't look fine," said Birdie. "you look worried."

"Harassed," added Bea. "But then, you always looked harassed, Linda dear. You need to slow down. Is Chef Jean Paul throwing hissy fits again? Is that what's got you all in a fidget?" She twinkled at Quill. "Linda's the world's best customer for Maalox, aren't you, dear? I'm so glad I own stock in pharmaceuticals."

"Yes. I mean, no, Jean Paul's fine. I just checked. He and your sister" - she glanced nervously at Quill - "are getting along like a house afire. They're hanging the rabbit."

"The rabbit?" Quill frowned. "Oh. For the potted rabbit."

"Yes."

"Did she cry? Meg always cries when she has to hang the rabbit."

"They both cried," said Linda, "and Chef Jean Paul said a little prayer."

"Well, it's dead, isn't it?" asked Bea. "I mean, it's not as though she has to...." she made a sharp twisting motion with both hands.

"Humanely killed," said Linda absently. "And we are very careful where we buy our stock from. They're in nice, airy cages... "

"I," said Bea firmly, "am having vegetarian today. What about you, Birdie?"

"Absolutely."

Bruce , smooth and quiet, in the best tradition of headwaiters all over the world, appeared silently at Linda's elbow. She jerked her head up at him. "Oh. There you are. Would you take the orders, Greg?"

"Bruce," eh corrected.

She rose to her feet, dropping her napkin. "I just... Quill, would you mind very much if Mrs. Gollinge and Mrs. McIntyre showed you around? I've just gotten some... I mean, I have quite q bit of work to do. And I've got to find Mrs. Taylor."

"You returned Mr. Taylor's call, didn't you?" said Quill. `Linda, I think I should tell you... "

"Dear Verger," Bea said. "How is he? I'm doing so nicely since we added the Taylor Towers to my portfolio."

Quill bit her