Grilled for Murder Read Online Free

like a salt lick, a naturally occurring place where animals went to lick salt and other essential minerals. So the Lick in the name only meant salts had been part of the mineral springs.
    â€œDessert, anyone?” I called out in my best outdoor voice. I stood back and watched people flock to the table. What was dinner without some sugar to top it off, especially when people were drinking?
    Erica and Jim approached together. She picked up a cupcake and peeled back the paper with those red fingernails in four slow, seductive movements, watching Jim as she did. She took a bite, then ran her tongue around her lips. Jim glanced at me and rolled his eyes before grabbing a cupcake and turning away from her. I turned away, too. I had pans to wash.
    * * *
    The crowd had thinned to a half dozen or so by eleven o’clock. The elder Berrys had thanked me profusely, and Sue had pressed a check for fifty dollars over our agreed amount into my hand before they’d left an hour earlier. Erica had shed her heels and sat on the sofa, which I’d arranged with a couple of chairs in a nook for a small informal sitting area. She had her feet tucked up under her and a half-inch of whiskey in the cup she held. Paula sprawled next to her with her feet up on a chair. Abe sat picking out tunes on his banjo, accompanied by a guy who had pulled out a harmonica, while Phil, the aspiring opera star, sang along to blues, gospel, bluegrass, whatever kind of music they played. They were in the middle of “Suwanee River” when Jim leaned toward me.
    â€œI’ve got a migraine brewing.”
    â€œOh, too bad.”
    â€œI’m going to head home.” He massaged the back of his head above his neck. “Sorry I can’t stay to help clean up.”
    â€œYes, go. Don’t worry, cleanup’s nearly done, anyway, and I’ll get these guys to set up the tables and chairs again for tomorrow morning.” Which was going to come along way too early. At least I didn’t open until eight on Sundays, a small blessing.
    I walked Jim to the door. After he slid into his coat, Erica called out.
    â€œGoodnight, Jimmy. See you later.” She waved a lazy hand.
    â€œG’night, Erica. Bye, everybody.” Jim raised a hand in return, then turned back to me and leaned in for a kiss.
    It was a delicious one. “Talk to you tomorrow,” I said as he opened the door.
    â€œSounds good.” He disappeared, then stuck his head back in. “It’s snowing.”
    I followed him out and stood on the wide covered porch, wrapping my arms around myself. It was indeed snowing, the first storm of the season, with fat white puffs of snow floating gently down in the streetlight. I watched Jim drive off in his Prius, then hurried back inside.
    Another storm appeared to be brewing inside, too. The music had stopped and Phil stood, mouth agape, facing Erica.
    â€œWhat century are you living in?” he asked, his voice shaking.
    Erica didn’t meet his eyes, instead leaning down to slip on first one shoe, then the other. She turned to Paula and extended her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Guy can’t take a joke. You’re going to sleep over at my place, anyway, aren’t you?”
    â€œThat was no joke,” Phil said in a now steady voice, with a low and serious tone.
    Erica headed for where I stood near the door without looking back.
    Paula looked at Phil, a distressed look on her face. “I’m sorry, Phil. What she said was totally uncalled for.”
    He shook his head with lips pressed flat. Erica grabbed her coat and shrugged it on, then handed Paula hers when she arrived at the door.
    â€œThanks so much, Robbie,” Erica said with a smile that didn’t include her eyes. “It was a great party.”
    â€œYes, thanks, Robbie.” Paula barely suppressed a yawn.
    â€œAre you okay to drive, Erica?” I asked. She’d been drinking all evening, but her