Murder on the Riviera Read Online Free Page B

taste horrific!”
    By the time Chef Martin returned from lunch, my husband and I had all five recipes sizzling on the grill. With a broad smile and a bow, the chef proclaimed, “Welcome Julia Child and Wolfgang Puck!”
    The room fizzed with laughter as the chef grabbed a spoon and tasted each of our creations. His expression was one of grand approval and I held in a relieved sigh, hoping that I wouldn’t have to see the inside of a kitchen until I was home in Washington serving Charles the first home cooked dinner of our marriage. Shooting the breeze for a few minutes with Chef Martin, the hubby and I exchanged satisfied looks as he approved our coconut concoctions.
    “The mahi mahi is brilliant,” he praised. “And so is the coconut flambé with vanilla bean ice cream. What a contrast in textures and temperatures! The other entrées are superb. Just make sure you write down all the ingredients on some recipe cards for me.” He opened a drawer, then handed us two ball point pens and a stack of index cards.
    “You got it,” Charles said cheerfully. “Thanks Martin.”
    “Thank you ,” the chef emphasized. “Maybe with these recipes, tonight won’t be so bad after all.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked blankly.
    “Well, you did hear about the dead woman on the beach, didn’t you? It’s put a cloud over this whole hotel,” Martin said gloomily.
    “Oh yeah, we heard about it alright. We’re the ones who found her,” I said darkly as the chef’s eyes bulged.
    “You’re kidding!” He exclaimed.
    “I wish we were,” Charles interjected.
    “You poor kids. I heard through the grapevine that this is your honeymoon. And here you are finding bodies and working when you should be sunbathing! Go on, get out of here,” Chef Martin grinned and swatted us away with a towel.
    Once he was out of earshot, I said, “He acted a little odd, don’t you think?”
    “Odd? What are you talking about? He was awesome. I wish the chefs at our hotel had his personality!”
    “Sure, he was friendly, but he acted so careless about the woman who died. It almost seemed like a joke to him,” I criticized.
    “Well he didn’t know the lady,” Charles defended. “And he probably heard how she was older, so maybe he didn’t see it as a huge tragedy.”
    I shook my head willfully. “No, he was too lighthearted.” In my mind, everyone was a suspect, even a toothy grinned chef who had no apparent connection to the victim. No apparent connection.
     
     

Chapter 5
    Later that afternoon, when Charles settled in for a nap, I seized the opportunity to engage in another round of investigating. As soon as the inevitable snoring rocket launched, I slipped out of our room and headed down to the pool area. To my surprise, I saw two red headed woman splashing about in skirted bathing suits. They looked like they were having a rollicking good time. I moved in closer to the scene and gasped, recognizing the pair as the loud lunch ladies.
    What were they still doing at the hotel? And why were they enjoying themselves not even 24 hours after their friend and traveling companion died? Granted, they weren’t related to the woman by blood, but they were still close enough to her to vacation together. Peeling off my cotton sundress, I revealed a halter bikini and sauntered towards the pool.
    “I’m so sorry about your friend,” I consoled as the redheads looked at me appraisingly.
    “Thank you,” one of them murmured cautiously, crossing her arms over her chest.
    “My husband and I found her, unfortunately,” I said quietly as both women visibly stiffened.
    “I’m Yvonne and this is my sister Yvette,” one of the carrot tops said.
    Politely, I introduced myself. “My name is Chelsea. I’m sorry to meet you like this.”
    Awkward silence floated across the pool as I ventured to speak again. “That’s sweet how two pairs of sisters were traveling together.”
    “Two pairs of sisters?” Yvette echoed. “Oh yes, that’s