Murder Can Spoil Your Appetite Read Online Free Page A

picking me up at seven-thirty, and since it was only a little past six now, that would leave ample time for any normal person to get ready. I, on the other hand, might very well have some difficulty in putting myself together by then. (Someday I have to find out why these preparations of mine are almost invariably fraught with minor disasters. It could be psychological, for all I know. Then again, it could also be that when it comes to something as simple as applying a little makeup, I’m just remarkably inept.)
    At any rate, I decided that I didn’t really have time for a bath—at least, not a nice, leisurely one. So I convinced myself to settle for a quick shower. This would have kept me on schedule—if soon afterward I hadn’t broken the point on my eyeliner pencil and then discovered I’d misplaced the little sharpener that came with it. Of course, I wasn’t about to be seen in public with naked eyes, so after a fruitless, ten-minute search for the sharpener, I finally grabbed a kitchen knife. Which didn’t produce much of a point on the pencil but did a dandy job on my thumb.
    Once the bleeding stopped I got into this new dress I’d acquired just for tonight: a two-piece, jewel neck in the most marvelous shade of blue. “So perfect with your gorgeous blue eyes, dear,” the saleswoman had gushed. “How can you even think of passing it up?”
    Well, I bought the dress in spite of that irritating woman’s best efforts. And I love it. The top has these tiny, covered buttons to the waist, then flares slightly into a small peplum. And the skirt is a modified A-line that just grazes my knee. The style is really unusually flattering. Also, even if I do have to agree with that awful salesperson, the color is great for me.
    After I was in my clothes and had engaged in the usual skirmishes with my impossibly stubborn hair, it was seven-thirty on the dot, and I was all set to go. As soon as I could come up with my navy leather bag, that is.
    I tore apart the entire bedroom looking for that damn thing, eventually locating it in my sweater drawer, of all places. (And don’t ask me how it could possibly have found its way in there.) Fortunately, however, Al had run into some traffic on the way over here, and it wasn’t until a quarter to eight that he buzzed me on the intercom—at almost the same moment I laid hands on the bag.
    He was standing in front of the building when I came downstairs. A very imposing man physically—easily six-two and with shoulders out to there —Al’s size initially had me somewhat intimidated. After only a few minutes in his company, though, I began to recognize that the really overwhelming thing about Al Bonaventure isn’t his appearance; it’s his niceness .
    But to get back to that evening . . .
    Al looked exceptionally attractive. His dark brown suit was, I thought, very smartly accessorized with a cream shirt and a snappy red, cream, turquoise, and brown polka dot tie. It was obvious that he’d just had himself shorn, too; his thick, straight brown hair was shorter than I’d ever seen it—becomingly so. He smelled faintly of Christian Dior’s Eau Savage—my favorite.
    Damned if the man didn’t seem to be growing on me!
    Once we were settled in the waiting cab, I tried again to induce him to reveal our destination. No luck. But it didn’t matter. At least this was one mystery that would soon be solved. And painlessly, too.
     
    Now, I won’t tell you the name of the place, since these days everyone goes around suing everyone else for just about anything. And I don’t have a great desire to be a participant in a lawsuit, thank you very much. I’ll give you a few hints, though. Virtually every restaurant critic lists it among the top dining establishments in New York City. I’ve even seen it rated as the top in more than one source book. Plus, it’s located in a hotel. Which probably isn’t much of a clue, since so many of them are. Also, the cuisine is considered truly