use a minimum amount of water, too much takes away the flavor. Salt water is best. These two are bright red, you’ll notice. They were boiled for fifteen minutes just before you arrived. Now they are cool enough to handle.”
I laid each on its back and cut through the body and down the tail with a sharp knife, cutting through the underbelly but not the top shell. I flexed and drained it, cracked the claws, and drained those too. “Now I’m going to prepare these two each in a different way,” I told the class. The first was baked Mediterranean style with olives, parsley, and balsamic vinegar, and the other was the classic Newburg. Both can be prepared in half an hour by interspersing the operations, and so I was able to finish them both at about the same time.
“I prepared two so that there is at least a taste of each for everybody,” I said, and so there was. “Two other lobster dishes are on the menu for tonight,” I added. “Pilaff and thermidor; you might want to try those.”
“What’s the difference between Newburg and thermidor?” someone wanted to know.
“Thermidor contains cheese, mustard, and wine, Newburg contains sherry and egg yolks. Otherwise they’re the same.”
It was well after five o’clock when we broke for the day. Questions were still being asked and discussions and arguments continuing, but I managed to close the class and let the students keep talking about it.
I went on another investigation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I HAD A REASONABLY clear picture in my mind of Rhoda, the blonde who had stopped me as I had been about to set forth across the lawn last night in the direction of the hydrotherapy units. Had she really stopped me? I was not sure of that; maybe she had just happened to be there and had felt like chatting.
Another possibility was that Kathleen had only just gone to the Seaweed Forest and someone—Rhoda or someone with her—had wanted to keep me away for another quarter of an hour until … Until what? Until someone killed Kathleen? That might be a little fanciful, but I did not have much else, so this was worth a try.
I strolled around, passing all the buildings, walking the pathways between the cabins, going everywhere I might expect to run into one of the luscious blondes. It was Julia I wanted to see first. I knew she was not the girl I had seen last night but she could provide me with the information I needed to start. I found her taking an empty tray back to the kitchen.
“Hello, Mr. Armitage,” she greeted me cheerfully. She clapped a hand to her mouth in a charming gesture. “Oh, it’s not though, is it? I’m sorry, I—”
“Perfectly all right. You girls do extraordinarily well in remembering the names of the guests as well as you do. And there are so few of you …” I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. She obliged.
“Eight on the day shift, five on the night shift.”
“Is that all?” It was more than enough if I had to check them all out.
“We’re one short today.” She chattered on, bless her. “Rhoda is off. It’s very short notice apparently, but something urgent came up.”
I tried another approach. “You’re all very photogenic. Haven’t any of the magazines done a feature on you yet?”
She smiled. “Not yet. We did have a group photo taken recently though. Have you noticed it? It’s in the reception.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to take a look.”
When I left Julia, I hastened to the reception area as fast as I could without making my impatience obvious. The usual number of guests and staff were there, and the customary tranquillity prevailed. I picked up a newspaper and looked for a place to sit. An armchair was near, but I ignored it and walked over to another near the wall on which a large photograph was hung. I examined it. The girls looked lovely. I studied the names below and found Rhoda’s.
Extreme left on the front row. I looked at the face. No doubt at all. It was the girl I had talked to on my way
I laid each on its back and cut through the body and down the tail with a sharp knife, cutting through the underbelly but not the top shell. I flexed and drained it, cracked the claws, and drained those too. “Now I’m going to prepare these two each in a different way,” I told the class. The first was baked Mediterranean style with olives, parsley, and balsamic vinegar, and the other was the classic Newburg. Both can be prepared in half an hour by interspersing the operations, and so I was able to finish them both at about the same time.
“I prepared two so that there is at least a taste of each for everybody,” I said, and so there was. “Two other lobster dishes are on the menu for tonight,” I added. “Pilaff and thermidor; you might want to try those.”
“What’s the difference between Newburg and thermidor?” someone wanted to know.
“Thermidor contains cheese, mustard, and wine, Newburg contains sherry and egg yolks. Otherwise they’re the same.”
It was well after five o’clock when we broke for the day. Questions were still being asked and discussions and arguments continuing, but I managed to close the class and let the students keep talking about it.
I went on another investigation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I HAD A REASONABLY clear picture in my mind of Rhoda, the blonde who had stopped me as I had been about to set forth across the lawn last night in the direction of the hydrotherapy units. Had she really stopped me? I was not sure of that; maybe she had just happened to be there and had felt like chatting.
Another possibility was that Kathleen had only just gone to the Seaweed Forest and someone—Rhoda or someone with her—had wanted to keep me away for another quarter of an hour until … Until what? Until someone killed Kathleen? That might be a little fanciful, but I did not have much else, so this was worth a try.
I strolled around, passing all the buildings, walking the pathways between the cabins, going everywhere I might expect to run into one of the luscious blondes. It was Julia I wanted to see first. I knew she was not the girl I had seen last night but she could provide me with the information I needed to start. I found her taking an empty tray back to the kitchen.
“Hello, Mr. Armitage,” she greeted me cheerfully. She clapped a hand to her mouth in a charming gesture. “Oh, it’s not though, is it? I’m sorry, I—”
“Perfectly all right. You girls do extraordinarily well in remembering the names of the guests as well as you do. And there are so few of you …” I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. She obliged.
“Eight on the day shift, five on the night shift.”
“Is that all?” It was more than enough if I had to check them all out.
“We’re one short today.” She chattered on, bless her. “Rhoda is off. It’s very short notice apparently, but something urgent came up.”
I tried another approach. “You’re all very photogenic. Haven’t any of the magazines done a feature on you yet?”
She smiled. “Not yet. We did have a group photo taken recently though. Have you noticed it? It’s in the reception.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to take a look.”
When I left Julia, I hastened to the reception area as fast as I could without making my impatience obvious. The usual number of guests and staff were there, and the customary tranquillity prevailed. I picked up a newspaper and looked for a place to sit. An armchair was near, but I ignored it and walked over to another near the wall on which a large photograph was hung. I examined it. The girls looked lovely. I studied the names below and found Rhoda’s.
Extreme left on the front row. I looked at the face. No doubt at all. It was the girl I had talked to on my way
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