Dinner And A Murder: The 3rd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) Read Online Free Page A

an early morning chat.
    We continued down the dock to my boat, where we shucked off our clothes and crawled into the queen-size bunk with a minimum of conversation. Once we were in bed Bill rolled onto his side and pulled me close, copping a feel and nuzzling my neck, then promptly began snoring. This is one of his gifts. No matter what’s going on in his life, no matter how disconcerting the cases he’s working on may be, he can always sleep.
    I am of the opposite variety, an almost chronic insomniac. I only sleep soundly when everything in my life is running smoothly. If anything is amiss, I’m awake. I don’t know how to disconnect. I’ve tried herbs and vitamins and the usual over-the-counter remedies, but nothing seems to work. I even went to a therapist once. Her name was Loretta Dario, and Bill had suggested I talk with her about my reaction to taking a life. He had been right. Even though I’d killed in self-defense, the psychological impact was devastating, and I’d had a lot of sleepless nights.
    What I really wanted as I lay in bed next to my snoring lover, replaying every minute of the evening, was a cigarette. Because quitting had been such a difficult process for me, as long as I remembered how hard it was I probably wouldn’t smoke again. The trouble would begin when I reached the point where I no longer recalled the ordeal of quitting. Then the temptation might get the best of me.
    I picked up Michael Connelly’s last Harry Bosch novel and read until my eyes would no longer focus. I finally drifted off, and dreamt that something was burning. The smell was so strong in my dream that it woke me. I sat up in bed sniffing the air like a hound who’s lost the scent of her prey. The clock said it was 5:13, and Bill was still snoring softly by my side.
    A couple of my neighbors have wood stoves onboard their boats, but now that I was awake, the smell was no longer evident. Still, the dream had alarmed me enough that I didn’t trust my senses, so I climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Bill, and walked through each of my rooms, sniffing and checking electrical outlets. When I was satisfied that nothing onboard was burning, I pulled on a robe and climbed up into the pilothouse, opened the outer door, and breathed in the cool morning air. Nothing was burning outside either. I was too agitated to attempt sleep again, so I sat down in the pilothouse and waited for sunrise.
    I must have fallen asleep, because around 8:00 I was awakened by the scent of coffee, fried eggs, and bacon. Bill can eat whatever he wants without any negative consequences. If I eat anything fried I have to add an hour to my workout. This doesn’t stop me from sneaking an occasional strip of bacon off of his plate, however. I stood, stretched, and backed down the companionway into the galley.
    Bill gave me a lopsided smile. “You’re sleeping in the pilothouse now?”
    “Don’t look so amused. I thought I smelled smoke and got up to check all the outlets. Then I was too nervous to sleep, so I stayed up to watch the sunrise. Can I have some of your bacon?”
    “Help yourself. Just don’t blame me when you get on the scale.”
    Bill isn’t insensitive, but he is candid. I actually appreciate that because it means I don’t have to waste time wondering about the hidden meaning behind his words. He’s got his flaws, of course. He can be critical when it comes to my work. We spend a lot of time arguing about the risks I take, the gray area of the law I tread into when I feel it’s necessary, and the fact that he’s a little too by-the-book for my taste. Luckily I’m not looking for the perfect man. I’m happy to have Bill in my life whenever we both have time to spend together, and I know he’ll be there for me in a pinch. He’s had my back on more than one occasion.
    After breakfast and a shower I left him onboard noodling on his acoustic guitar, and walked to Elizabeth’s trawler. I knocked on the closed door, but there was