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

no response. The fact that the door was closed should have tipped me off. When Elizabeth is at home and awake, her door is usually open, even in cold weather. She’d probably spent the night with Jack at his estate in Hillsborough.
    Jack McGuire, retired cat burglar and current inamorata of my best friend, is a former client of mine. I took his case because he was too interesting to turn away. Jack is a red-headed Irishman with the face of a feline. He’s playful, witty, charismatic, and gorgeous. I’d inadvertently introduced him to Elizabeth last August when I was working on his investigation.
    I hiked up the companionway from Elizabeth’s boat, and unlocked my office. The voicemail light was blinking, telling me I had two messages. I started a pot of coffee and turned on my laptop before pushing the play button. The first message was from Paul. It had been left at 1:00 a.m. this morning.
    “Hi, Nikki. It was great seeing you tonight and I’m looking forward to lunch. I’m free whenever you are. Call me back?”
    In spite of the cheerful words, his voice radiated tension. He left his home number and I made a note of it.
    The second message was from the owner of Michelino’s in San Mateo, who suspected one of his waitresses was till-tapping. He wanted me to conduct a lunchtime surveillance as soon as possible. The waitress in question worked on Saturdays, so she’d be there today. I don’t believe in coincidence, nor do I object when the universe conspires to buy me and a friend lunch. I called Paul’s number and the phone rang only once before he answered.
    “This is Paul.”
    “Hey, Paul, it’s Nikki. I just got your voicemail. I have to do an employee surveillance job at Michelino’s this afternoon, and I was hoping we could meet there for lunch. Will that work for you?”
    “Absolutely.”
    We agreed to meet at 1:00. I made sure Paul knew how to find the restaurant, and ended the call.
    For the remainder of the morning I drank coffee, answered e-mails, and read pre-employment backgrounds I’d requested for one of my clients. I finished up at the office around 12:00 and walked down to the boat to change clothes before meeting Paul. On my way past Elizabeth’s trawler I noticed her door was still closed. I wondered if she and Jack were nearing the next level in their relationship, which might mean she’d be moving in with him. For selfish reasons I hoped they weren’t. I’d really miss having her so close. Jack’s estate is only a fifteen-minute drive from the marina, and there’s always the telephone, but it’s not the same. It’s so much more intimate when you can just drop in and talk with someone in person. I didn’t want to lose that.
    D’Artagnon, a black Labrador Retriever and self-appointed marina watchdog, was out on the deck of his human’s Bluewater 42, so I stopped to scratch behind his ears. D’Artagnon risked his life saving mine a few months ago. We take long walks in the wildlife refuge across the street when weather permits, and he frequently pays me late night visits looking for affection and leftovers. He’s only six years old but recently started showing signs of arthritis in his hips and knees. In spite of that, he always enjoys a good romp.
    I continued down the dock. As I approached my boat I heard the resonant tones of Bill’s guitar. He was sitting in the main salon with a couple of portholes open, playing one of his original compositions. I stopped for a moment, absorbing the music. Bill has been playing since he was twelve, and he’s developed the rare ability to express emotion through his instrument. I could feel each note and the music warmed my heart as it always does when I listen to him play. Eventually I climbed aboard.
    “Hey, babe,” he called out.
    “Hey,” I responded. Sometimes you don’t need a lot of words.
    I stripped out of my jeans and sweatshirt, and selected a pair of rust-colored slacks and a black silk blouse. The guitar music suddenly