A Dead Sister (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

There were fewer bad days when she felt like never getting out of bed again. Hours passed without wondering what went wrong or plotting some heinous act of revenge on the bitch and the beast.
    Then, out of the blue, she would be waylaid by another tidal wave of sadness, anger or paranoia. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz she was swept up into a tornado of unanswered questions. Had Jim ever really loved her or had she been duped all along? Were there others before the Hollywood hellion? She ruminated, willing herself to think, think, think : when had he met her? What signs had she missed that he was two-timing her with that billowy-lipped bimbo? Eventually she would either wear herself out or the storm would pass, and something resembling blues skies would prevail.
    Soon after Jim left that afternoon, Laura had arrived. The cat pack, as Jessica fondly referred to their little group, was assembled. Cat pack was an homage to the sixties “rat pack,” a name supposedly given by Lauren Bacall to friends who hung out with Humphrey Bogart. After Bogie’s death, the title had lived on, ascribed to a reconfigured group of friends: Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis, Jr., Joey Bishop, and, for a time, Peter Lawford. On stage and off, they epitomized midcentury cool and the swinging sixties, in perfect sync with the Palm Springs vibe. Enjoying the convenient proximity to both Hollywood and Vegas, they had done their share of ring-a-ding-dinging in Coachella Valley resorts, and in the homes they bought in and around Palm Springs.
    Jessica’s little band was a lot less flashy. They were given more to wandering aimlessly, like a herd of cats, than ring-a-ding-dinging. That evening, they toasted Jessica’s recovery and the fact that they had all survived harrowing experiences. Each ha d saved the day in some way during that awful week following Roger’s murder.
    Peter insisted that Jessica toast with a cup of his organic green smoothie. Jessica obliged. The concoction was dominated by the flavor of banana, which didn’t account for the color. Jessica wasn’t too interested in knowing what did.
    “Not bad,” was the best she could do in the way of an enthusiastic endorsement. That was enough for Peter, who flashed a big grin at her. That grin seemed out of place on his weathered, battle-scarred face. Jessica did not relax completely until his usual, more implacable, expression settled back into place.
    The food and drink that followed was more to her liking. Jessica had implored Bernadette to take the night off, and arranged for dinner to be catered. The caterers set up buffet-style indoors, to let guests serve themselves. Appetizers included a wonderful chilled avocado soup, roasted mixed peppers with capers, and a bruschetta with figs, honey and cheese. For the main course, Jessica and her friends could choose from a vegan zucchini frittata with mushrooms and herbs, savory roast chicken, or red snapper on angel hair pasta with a citrus cream. As if that weren’t enough, there was a delightful red potato and green bean salad with Dijon vinaigrette, and a pilaf with pistachios, as well as an assortment of flaky rolls—including some specially made for Peter-the-vegan. For dessert, the caterers brought out lime granita with candied mint leaves and crème fraîche, a mixed berry crisp with vanilla ice cream, and vegan carrot cake.
    Jessica had raided the wine cellar and set out several good vintages to complement the summery fare. That included a refreshing 2000 Domaine Marcel Deiss Pinot Gris Beblenheim to get them started. The symphony of fresh ingredients, paired with well-chosen wines, nourished the body and delighted the palate, inspiring a festive mood.
    Even Laura, who had endured the devastating loss of her husband to murder, was buoyed by the good food and camaraderie. The week had taken a toll. Laura’s clothes hung more loosely than they should have. Her eyes seemed to have turned a deeper shade of brown. Dark