Fiona Silk Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Mary Jane Maffini
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Sea salt, the best you can afford
Pre-heat BBQ grill to medium. Snap asparagus at their natural breaking point. Discard woody ends. Attach asparagus, four or five at a time, with skewers (across, not lengthwise). Brush asparagus with oil. Season with sea salt, to taste. Grill just until nice grill marks appear.
Live a little.
Six
Luckily, I still had Sarrazin’s telephone number from the troubles of the previous fall. I dialed it before I lost my nerve.
“I know who he was now,” I said.
Sarrazin simply grunted on the phone. Of course, he’d already known the answer.
“Daniel Dupree. A colleague of my husband.”
“And you just figured this out how?”
“I told you before that there was something familiar about him. When Philip mentioned this morning his friend had been killed, I realized where I’d seen the driver.”
“Hard to believe you wouldn’t recognize him right off.”
“Shouldn’t be. I met him at some business reception a couple of years ago, when I was still married. I probably saw him a few times at fundraisers and cocktail parties. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses then and whipping past me in a vehicle.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you have anything else you want to tell me?”
“What else would I want to tell you?”
“You never spent any amount of time with this guy?”
“I didn’t even like him. He was sort of a blowhard. Anyway, I wasn’t his type. He always seemed to have a beautiful young woman with him.”
“You didn’t like him. Did he have a problem with you?”
“I’d be surprised if he even remembered my name. I don’t think he even noticed me.”
Sarrazin paused before speaking. “Are you sure? You are the kind of woman that men notice.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Sure you are. Just your hair alone is enough to get attention. And how many people have violet eyes? Maybe he just pretended.”
I wish people wouldn’t talk about my hair. I have nothing but trouble with it, and I don’t get what the fuss is about. “Trust me. There’s a type of man who doesn’t register your existence if you’re over thirty. Or maybe even over twenty-five. He was definitely that type.”
“Oh, come on. You were the wife of a colleague. He must have been polite.”
“I’m telling you, he never acknowledged my presence. He didn’t say hello. He didn’t shake hands. He looked right through me. I felt invisible. Of course, I disliked him instantly.”
“Did your husband get upset about the way he reacted to you?”
“You mean the way he didn’t react to me. No. Philip would be absolutely oblivious to anything like that.”
“Huh. Maybe you complained.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have wasted my breath. First of all, Philip would have told me it was because I was wearing the wrong clothes or standing the wrong way or being generally unworthy of notice. I don’t know why you are asking these things, but you’re definitely barking up the wrong husband.”
“Could be. The scene on the highway as you described it has a personal feel to it. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I do agree. It felt personal at the time. I was kind of shaken. But I don’t believe it was. I drive a ten-year-old Skylark with timing problems. I’m used to jerk behaviour aimed at me.”
“Maybe.”
“I bet you don’t encounter it in your full-size police vehicle, looking like you do.”
“What do you mean ‘looking like I do’?”
“I mean a large man who carries a gun. And anyone could tell you’re a cop. I’m pretty sure that would be a good deterrent. So you don’t comprehend how the rest of us live. By that I mean non-cops, non-men, old car drivers.”
“Okay. You don’t have to get huffy. So you think he gave you the finger because you were a woman driving an older model car? Because there are a lot of people who fit that description. You know what bothers me, as a cop?”
“No, what?”
“The coincidence that you actually knew him.”
“Speaking of being bothered, any word about the woman in the Escalade with him?”
“That woman who wasn’t there? No, madame. There’s no word about her.”
“Well,” I said, with all the dignity I could manage. “Thank you very much, Sgt. Sarrazin. Goodbye now.”
He wasn’t ready to hang up. “Listen, about that cookbook of yours.”
I didn’t recall mentioning that project to Sarrazin.
He kept talking. “It’s still officially spring, so you have to include asparagus. I do mine on the grill with really good olive oil and sea salt. I can write out the technique for you.”
It was hard to decide which was less erotic: asparagus or Sarrazin. “I’ll take it, I said.”
I’d been stuck for hours in front of my computer working on a plan for the book. Let’s just say the screen was still blank, and it matched my mind. Finally, I had the slightest glimmer of an idea. I picked up the phone and called Lola.
“How about this? I’ll do a little back story of a couple who meet, and I’ll set up the meals they make as their relationship deepens.”
“Oh, blech! Stay away from romance, Fiona. Just make it sexy with beautiful, lively food. Come up with something that has a lot more sizzle than that. And remember, time is short.”
I was alternating between staring at the blank screen and at a piece of paper, when the front door banged.
“Okay,” Josey said, “if we are going to make this work, we have to do our homework.”
“Speaking of homework, how’s the exam preparation going?”
“Piece of cake. It’s time to get serious about your book.”
“I am serious about the book, Josey. See, I’ve started