Bone Appétit Read Free Page A

another round of cosmopolitans. Despite Jitty’s admonitions, we were drinking pink in honor of Cece Dee Falcon, who would join us as soon as she finished a deadline at the
Zinnia Dispatch
, where she was society editor and chief investigative reporter. It was an unusual combination of journalistic work, but then all the best crimes in the Mississippi Delta involved high society. She had the background knowledge on debutants and debuts, soirées, socials, engagements (broken and otherwise), marriages (those that held and those that didn’t), and other information crucial to a good juicy story when a crime spree broke out amongst the landed gentry.
    Cece had also been a part of the landed gentry until she went to Sweden and had the part of her that bore the name Cecil permanently excised. Her family had disowned her, but Cece carved out a new life for herself from the ruins of her old one. She had strength I could only envy.
    The bartender brought our drinks, and Tinkie motioned him closer. “Who’s that woman in the corner?” she asked.
    “Hedy,” he said without hesitation. “Really nice gal, unlike some of the other contestants.” He glared at Karrie’s back. “Some of these girls think the whole world spins in an orbit around them.”
    Before he could collect our empties, a bouquet of white roses as wide as the doorway waddled into the room on two human legs.
    “Karrie Kompton?” a rough, low voice said from the midst of the flowers.
    “For me?” Karrie squealed with the best sorority girl abandon I’d heard in years. “Oh, look, everybody, someone sent me flowers.”
    While the bartender rushed over to help the deliveryman put the flowers in a safe place, Karrie snatched the card and ripped it open. Her face flushed with pleasure, and she tapped her glass with a cigarette lighter to make everyone hush.
    “Everyone! Shut! Up! I want to read my card.” She cleared her throat. “ ‘A gift for the fairest princess in the land. Knock ’em dead.’ ” She fluttered the note and squealed again. “It’s signed, ‘Your secret admirer.’ Isn’t that just the best? A secret admirer. It’s so . . . romantic.”
    The deliveryman produced a giant box and handed it to Karrie. “This is also for you.” He stood a moment and when it became clear she had no intention of tipping him, he gave her a disgusted look and left.
    One thing about Karrie Kompton: She knew how to play a moment to the hilt. She held out the box, shook it lightly, and then very carefully untied the pink organdy ribbon that adorned an ornate, foil-stamped, fuchsia box. Chocolates were my guess.
    When she lifted the lid, instead of a squeal, she sighedwith pleasure. “Look at this. I’ve never seen chocolates like this before. They’re so big and dark and expensive looking.”
    The girls and male admirers all leaned in to examine the box. Even after eating a dozen or more appetizers, I couldn’t stop my mouth from watering. Chocolate was definitely my weakness, and Karrie had the ability to make others want what she had, even a box of candies. I waited for her to pass them around to her friends. Instead, she picked one out and held it up for all to see.
    “It’s like a chocolate shell,” she declared, turning it this way and that. “And stamped onto the top is an exact replica of the crown I’m going to win. These had to have been handmade just for me.”
    “Eat the damn thing or put it down,” Crystal Belle Wadell finally said. “You aren’t going to share, so just eat it and shut up about it. Brook, Janet, Gretchen—let’s go find out about our schedules.”
    The four young women stood.
    “Jealous because I have a secret admirer?” Karrie taunted. Her laughter danced around the room. “I’ll bet this is a gift from one of the judges.”
    The audacity of her statement made Tinkie’s eyes widen. “What an instigator she is,” Tinkie whispered. “I’m surprised one of the other contestants hasn’t whipped her