The Art of Murder (Dead-End Job Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

they were both thinking about the young artist.
    They were finishing their salads when Margery said, “Well, look who’s here. Afternoon, Markos!” She waved him over to their table.
    Markos Martinez, the youngest Coronado resident, was dressed for a late-afternoon swim. Helen thought the Cuban American hunk was dazzling, but today he was especially eye-catching with his smooth tanned skin and thick black hair with a slight curl. Helen tried not to stare at his tight white bathing suit. Instead, she focused on his brown eyes and told herself she was a happily married woman.
    He flashed a smile and strode over to their table. “How was Bonnet House?” he asked. Now Helen could smell his coconut suntan lotion. His six-pack was right at her eye level. She fought to look him in the eye.
    “Fabulous,” Helen said. “After the tour wasn’t so good. A woman we met in the art class collapsed and had to go to the hospital. We’re waiting to hear if she’s okay. She was very sick.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said, and he really did seem regretful. “I hope she’ll be okay. After my swim, I’ll make you some mojitos, and I have a new snack I want you to try—roasted chickpeas. Spicy and healthy.”
    “Did you learn that recipe in a food and beverage class at Reynolds-White College?” Margery asked. “Or pick it up at your restaurant job?”
    Markos was working on his degree at the Fort Lauderdale college and working at Fresh and Cool, an upscale restaurant specializing in healthy, low-calorie food.
    “Neither one,” he said. “Found the recipe on the Internet.”
    “Sounds like something Fresh and Cool would serve,” Helen said.
    “I’m going to suggest it as a happy-hour snack,” he said. “Only ahundred forty-four calories in a third of a cup. Maybe they’ll let me make a test batch. I want to cook there.”
    “We’ve brought you a drink recipe from Bonnet House,” Helen said, “and hope you’ll make us a test batch of that.”
    “Maybe it’s one I learned at bartending school,” he said.
    “I doubt it,” Helen said. “It was the favorite cocktail of Evelyn Bartlett, the grand lady of Bonnet House.” She handed Markos her recipe notes.
    “For me? That’s so sweet.” He read, “‘The Rangpur lime cocktail is four parts Mount Gay Barbados Eclipse dark rum, one part fresh Rangpur lime juice, and maple syrup to taste.’
    “Love the ingredients. Mount Gay is the world’s oldest rum, and it’s still popular. The first drink James Bond orders in the movie
Casino Royale
is Mount Gay rum with soda, instead of his usual vodka martini. I make a mean vodka martini, too.”
    “I’m sure you do,” Helen said. “But your mojitos are amazing.”
    “I’d like to make this Rangpur cocktail,” he said.
    “I’ve got a bottle of dark rum and it’s the right brand,” Margery said.
    “I have some Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup,” Helen said.
    “Sorry, but that’s pancake syrup,” Markos said. “We need real maple syrup for this recipe. I know where to get some. I’ll also have to score some Rangpur limes.”
    “I can get you regular limes,” Margery said.
    “Not the same,” he said. “Rangpurs look more like mandarin oranges than Persian limes—those are the green ones you get at the grocery store—or Key limes.”
    “So you’ve tasted Rangpurs?” Helen asked.
    “Oh, yes. They’re a hybrid of a lemon and a mandarin orange. Their flavor is unique, but it’s more like a lime. I’ve used them in gimlets and Tom Collinses. I could make those, too. But I’d rather try this cocktail.”
    “You should get some swimming in,” Margery said. “We’ll watch the recipe for you.”
    Markos left his towel on the chair and made a low, flat dive into the deep end of the pool.
    “You can relax now,” Margery said. “I thought your eyes were going to cross while you struggled not to look at his skimpy bathing suit.”
    “Margery!” Helen said. “I’m happily married.”
    “Of course you