Murder on the Riviera Read Online Free Page A

sitting in our office in Seattle rather than on vacation in Santa Barbara.
    “Everything okay?” I asked softly.
    “No! They messed up everything for the Wades’ wedding today. There was supposed to be a vegetarian option and a gluten-free dish, but the kitchen hasn’t prepared any of it! It’s a disaster!” He ran a tense hand through his hair as I massaged his neck.
    “If the Wades are really in love, they won’t care about the food or anything at the reception,” I encouraged. “It’s not a disaster, honey. Just a few hiccups, that’s all.”
    “I’m sorry,” Charles unglued his eyes from the computer screen. “I’ve already spent enough time on this email today. How about we rent a car and take a drive up the coast?”
    “That sounds amazing,” I groaned. “But I promised Chef Martin we’d start working on our recipes today.”
    “When?”
    “In 15 minutes,” I gulped. “Actually about 10 minutes now.”
    “Man!” Charles slapped his thigh and laughed despite himself. “Okay, let’s get this done. If we focus, we can get all five recipes perfected today. Then we can enjoy the rest of this vacation.”
    I smiled on the outside, but inside I felt like the investigation was heading in a direction I didn’t expect. Gardenia had claimed that her sister gobbled up too much fat-laden fast food, but I didn’t think she had even scratched the surface of the story. Something was very fishy. Yes, something was fishier than any seafood entrée Charles and I could whip up at Oyster Palace and I was going to clear the air!
    ***
    Despite its slightly kitschy name, Oyster Palace was a magnificent restaurant graced with a dramatic western exposure overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I sighed, imagining how magical the sunsets must be on the dining veranda. Wishing I was a patron rather than an employee, I forced myself to walk into the kitchen with Charles by my side. We had work to do and the sooner we finished that work, the sooner we could play.
    “Chef Martin?” I presumed, addressing an older man with a thick salt and pepper moustache and tall white hat.
    “Yes, and you must be Chelsea and Charles,” the chef grinned warmly and his demeanor exuded a sincere charm that set me instantly at ease. So many chefs I had worked with over the years as a caterer had wickedly difficult personalities, but maybe Chef Martin would be different.
    Charles shook Chef Martin’s hand as he visually appraised the kitchen. “We were honored when we were asked to create some new dishes for your restaurant.”
    “Yes,” I added. “We’re well aware that this is a 5 star restaurant.”
    “It is,” Chef Martin said with gleeful pride. “But we could use a little more spice on the menu. Everybody’s asking for coconut recipes these days and we only have the standard…”
    “Coconut shrimp?” I drawled as the chef nodded.
    “You got it. So I’d really appreciate if you could bring some exotic flair to Oyster Palace.”
    Suddenly, I was nervous. Exotic flair? We’re from Seattle not Honolulu! I wanted to shout, but I bit my lip. I had faced many culinary challenges in my career, trying to please finicky brides and corporate sharks. If Chef Martin wanted exotic, then let me grab my passport and go!
    “I’m going to take my lunch break now, but the line cooks will handle all the orders. Don’t you worry. You’re here as artists, not work horses.” Chef Martin grinned, removed his hat, and left us in his prized kitchen.
    “Where do we begin?” Charles wondered aloud, clearly overwhelmed.
    “Maybe with a coconut?” I teased, picking up a ripe piece of the fruit. “Mmm, I already have an idea. How does herb encrusted mahi mahi with toasted coconut rice sound? And maybe a sweet coconut salsa on the side.”
    “Mouth watering,” Charles declared. “That’s one down, four to go.”
    “Not so fast,” I giggled. “We have to test out the ingredients and see what tastes the best. It sounds good, but it could