Murder Most Mellow (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Read Free

importantly, it was a truth that I wanted to believe.
    “But marriage—” began Peter.
    “Can we talk about something else?” I requested hastily. I had received enough advice for the day.
    “Dammit, Kate, you brought the subject up!” Peter objected.
    “I did,” I agreed quickly. “And I appreciate everyone’s suggestions,” I assured him, with the silent amendment that sometimes I actually appreciated Linda’s silence more than his suggestions. “But I need some time to think about what everyone’s said.”
    Sarah nodded and gave my arm a friendly pat. “You know what they say,” she prodded me.
    “No, what do they say?” I asked impatiently. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
    “When you ask for free advice,” she replied, “you get exactly what you pay for.”
    I had to laugh. Even Peter’s face relaxed momentarily into a rueful smile. As Tony chuckled, I felt a warm moment of companionship with the others in the tub. I glanced at Linda’s face, wanting to include her. She stared back, her grey eyes cold and dead. The moment ended.
    “Anyway, I’ll be glad to change the subject,” Sarah went on. “I’m working on this far-out new computer program. It models the genius of the very best stockbrokers. And I’m almost done. All I have to do now is come up with a name for it.”
    “Broker In A Box,” I suggested.
    Sarah giggled appreciatively.
    “Does it go in a robot?” asked Tony slowly, his face reflecting his confusion. Sarah mostly programmed personal robots for robotics firms.
    “No, no,” she said. “I’m branching out in a whole new direction…”
    I leaned back, relieved, as the conversation went on to business. We were all small-business owners, with the possible exception of Linda Zatara. I had no idea what she did for a living. Peter Stromberg had his law practice. Tony Olberti owned and cooked for his own vegetarian restaurant, The Elegant Vegetable. His cooking was inspired, so good that even the major San Francisco reviewers had praised him unanimously. Sarah Quinn made big money designing software for computer games, personal robots and whatever else caught her attention. And I was the sole proprietor of Jest Gifts, a mail-order gag-gift company.
    My cat, C.C., came skulking around the tub just as Peter launched into a tirade about that rarest of commodities, ethics in the legal profession.
    I dangled a wet hand over the edge of the tub to keep C.C. company. She sniffed it, then yowled her objection to the chlorinated water that dripped from my fingers. Peter stopped mid-sentence to glare at her. Was he going to overrule her objection?
    Before he had a chance to, Sarah began to serenade the cat. “Sing the blues, honey,” she caroled, blissfully off-key.
    C.C. obliged with a long, mournful meow. C.C. was hungry. C.C. was always hungry.
    I was hungry, too. I hadn’t had any breakfast. I was saving room for one of Tony’s spectacular meals.
    “Isn’t it about time for lunch?” I asked him hopefully.
    Tony nodded and stood carefully, barely disturbing the surface of the water. “I’ve got medallions of tofu, shitake mushrooms and greens in a lemon-herb sauce…” he began.
    I hustled recklessly out of the tub into the cold air, leaving a small tidal wave behind me.
    “And avocado-stuffed zucchini,” he continued as he stepped out onto the deck. Peter and Sarah scrambled out after him.
    “And spiced oatmeal-raisin bread…”
    Even Linda was out of the tub and drying off by the time Tony got to the apricot-and-currant crepes with whipped tofu-carob topping. We all threw on dry clothes as fast as we could, mostly sweat suits except for Sarah’s orange and purple caftan. Tony’s meals were worth hurrying for.
    Once inside, I set the kitchen table as Tony pulled the elements of our lunch from my refrigerator. He even had something for C.C., a cooked corncob, the only vegetarian dish she would eat. He squatted down and held it out to her. She inspected it