Murder Is My Dish Read Online Free Page B

isn’t your husband.”
    Eulalia said coldly, “I’ve known Rafael Caballero longer than you have, Frances, even if you are his wife. I think I understand him better than you do. He’s spent a lot of blood, sweat and tears collecting that Republic underground money and he wouldn’t want you to throw it away because somebody sends you a note on wrapping paper that says you should.”
    Frances glared at her. It was the kind of look that was supposed to make Eulalia shrivel up and crawl out under the door. “As secretary of the Fund for Parana Independence,” Frances pointed out, “I can withdraw that money from the bank. How dare you say I can’t, when my husband’s life is at stake.”
    Eulalia gave me a questioning look. “You’re a detective, Mr. Drum. You know about things like kidnaping. Would giving them the money do any good?”
    â€œI’m a detective, but I’m not psychic. Maybe they really mean it. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they’ll return your man without mussing a hair on his head. Maybe he’s already wearing cement boots. How should I know?”
    â€œBut if he was somebody you loved,” Eulalia asked, “wouldn’t you be afraid to give them the money? Wouldn’t you be afraid because they might keep him alive until they got the money?”
    â€œIf they were going to kill him, why would they wait? All right, you asked me. I’d give them the money.”
    Frances Caballero puffed out her chest. “Mr. Drum,” she said, “will you handle the transaction for us?”
    â€œYou haven’t been told where to deliver the money. Or when.”
    â€œIf we’re told—will you?”
    â€œThat money—” Eulalia began.
    â€œThat’s enough. All you’re interested in is the Fund and your sneaky underground movement. You don’t care about Rafael at all. You’re despicable.”
    Eulalia opened her mouth. No words came out. She clicked her teeth shut and swung around and headed for the kitchen. She was as mad as a girl could be without going off like a Roman candle, but she looked lovely. Despite what you may read in the slick magazines, there are very few women who can look lovely when they are that mad, but Eulalia Mistral was one of them.
    Then Eulalia jolted me. She came back with a bottle of bourbon and a tumbler. She poured the tumbler half full of bourbon and looked at it without interest and drank it off like tea. When she noticed, still without interest, that the glass had been emptied, she poured again and emptied again. She had a strong, tan throat and the muscles worked as she drank. She downed enough bourbon to float me out of drydock and she wasn’t even enjoying it. All it did was make her eyes go watery.
    â€œYou see what I’m up against?” Frances asked me. “A drunkard.”
    Eulalia leered at her. Maybe the bourbon had done something after all. I hadn’t seen her leer like that before. “I just don’t want to see the money Rafael worked so hard for go up in smoke.”
    If she lit a match, I thought, she might go up in smoke. But I didn’t say that. If Rafael Caballero ever needed help, he needed it now. So his wife got migraine headaches and his girl Friday postponed the need for making decisions by downing more bourbon than Carry Nation had ever put an ax to.
    â€œAll I want to do is save his life,” Frances whined.
    I said, “There’s the police.”
    â€œWhat?” Eulalia gasped.
    The plump blonde looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.
    â€œThe police. You know, the buttons? You can call them.”
    â€œWill you help us, or won’t you help us?” Frances demanded.
    â€œYou’re getting the money?”
    â€œI’m going to the bank for it right now. Yes.”
    â€œThey’ll kill him,” Eulalia said.
    â€œChances are they’ll get in touch with you by phone,