reservations...”
“Ah, I understand. This will be fine.” Holly sat, feeling completely foiled.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly.”
Holly held up the menu and peeked over it. Joel and Judy were deep in conversation and she was missing all of it! Holly glanced at the menu and everything made sense when she saw the exorbitant prices. Twenty dollars for a piece of steak? Of course Joel would take a date to the most expensive place in town.
She tried to lip-read. She tried to read body language and facial expressions. But she was too far away to hear or see much of anything. Nothing looked suspicious.
The least expensive item on the menu was the garden salad for thirteen dollars. Holly ordered it and waited, thinking of all the juicy information she was missing. Somehow, if Charlene had been there, they’d be sitting right next to Joel and Judy.
She asked for the bill when her meal was served and then crunched on carrots and lettuce. The size was barely enough for an appetizer. She paid and tipped generously then left. It wasn’t until she was outside that she realized her golden opportunity. The one thing about convertibles is that the top stayed down. The car somewhat vulnerable.
It had black leather seats, smooth and polished. There wasn’t one piece of trash or a crumb or stain anywhere. They had their wallets and purses with them. Without checking to see if anyone was watching, Holly slid over the car door and sat in the driver’s seat. Like the car was hers.
Casually, she felt under the seat. Nothing. She leaned over and checked under the passenger’s seat. Nothing. Then, she opened the glove compartment. Only the typical registration and car information. This guy was good.
As she sat back up, preparing to leave, her head hit the visor. A card fluttered down and landed in her lap.
A business card.
Excited and hoping for this fated clue, she read the name on it and slumped with disappointment. It was for the local counseling services associated with the hospital. Nothing unusual after a death.
Enough. Holly was ready to chalk up this night, this day, as a big failure.
***
It was midnight. Holly sat at her kitchen table and stared at the blender. The strawberry cheesecake smoothie wouldn’t perfect itself. The basic ingredients were in the fridge and freezer: strawberries, cream cheese, sugar, vanilla, milk. But would this be enough? What secret ingredient could she add to give the recipe an extra boost? Almond flavoring? Lemon juice for a zing?
Worries of the festival and the baking contest plagued her. Would her business survive this next murder mystery? Her ongoing competition with The Tasty Bite lingered at the edge of her thoughts.
And of course, there was Trent. His date with Millicent. Maybe all her dropped hints had sparks of truth. Maybe Millicent could see—before Holly—that Trent was losing interest. She would know him well enough to see it. And Holly wanted to know what happened at prom that made it so memorable. She shouldn’t care. That was high school. That was history.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Yes?” Holly asked. A couple days ago she would’ve assumed it was Trent, but tonight, she knew it wasn’t.
“Are you going to make me stand out here all night?”
Holly whipped open the door, excited to see her friend, yet confused at the same time. How had Charlene been spending her time? When would be the right time to ask?
With a grunt, Charlene forged her way inside and sat at the table. “See you’re working hard.”
“Hardly. Though that was the plan.”
Charlene huffed. “I knew that. Don’t you recognize sarcasm when you hear it?”
Normally, the conversation would flow, especially during a mystery. They would chat about clues, talk about suspects, and be making plans for the next day. But as they took seats at the table, Holly hated the tension-filled silence filled with unspoken thoughts and truths.
“So what do you
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