A Trifle Dead: Cafe La Femme, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

cabbage.
    ‘That’s easy, love,’ said Bev. ‘He’s staying with me while his mum’s on the mainland.’
    Xanthippe coughed. ‘He’s here?’
    ‘In his room, working away. Home schooling,’ Bev added in a loud whisper. ‘Don’t believe in it myself, but his mother has funny ideas about him being a genius.’ She went to the door. ‘Kevin! Come and have some bikkies, luv. Cordial’s in the kitchen.’
    ‘Right,’ said Xanthippe, slumping back into the chair. ‘I was probably thinking about a different grandson.’
    I gave Bev a hard look, wondering if she was doing this deliberately. Dotty oblivious old lady was one of her favourite disguises.
    An extremely short Harry Potter lookalike entered the room, glanced at us all with disinterest, and selected a heavy book from the shelf. ‘Sugar’s unhealthy, Nan,’ he said from behind his oversized glasses. ‘I’ll have a banana.’
    ‘If you like, darl,’ she said to his back, as he shuffled out of the room.
    ‘I didnae think children were called Kevin these days,’ said Stewart.
    ‘Well, my daughter-in-law is very old-fashioned,’ said Bev. ‘Or incredibly trendy. I can never remember which. But of course you meant my older grandson, Xanthippe. I know the two of you were … close.’
    Close like a forest fire and an arsonist.
    ‘He hasn’t been around the café for weeks,’ I said helpfully.
    ‘I did want to catch up with him, while I’m in town,’ gushed Xanthippe, all bubbly and innocent. Pfah.
    ‘He’ll turn up,’ said Bev. ‘I’ll let him know you were asking, love.’
    Xanthippe put her cup down, running out of polite. ‘I’d better be going. Thanks for the tea, Bev.’
    ‘I need to get my goodies back to the café,’ I said. ‘Bev—there’s an American cruise ship in dock tomorrow. Any chance of some shortbread kangaroos?’
    ‘No problem at all, luv,’ said Bev. ‘I could throw you in some convict kisses as well.’
    ‘Brilliant.’
    ‘Thanks for the story, Mrs D,’ said Stewart, shaking her hand politely. ‘I’m gonnae hae a hard time topping this one.’
    She smiled at him. ‘You just come back at Christmas, my darling. My gingerbread brothels have to be seen to be believed.’
    As I collected my boxes of goodies from the kitchen, I saw Kevin Darrow tapping away at something on a laptop. He reminded me of his older cousin, drilling away at a keyboard when his enthusiasm was firing on all cylinders, like he couldn’t download the information fast enough from his brain. ‘What are you writing?’ I asked.
    ‘How comic book merchandise insults the intelligence of nine-year-olds,’ he said.
    ‘ Tank Girl was always my favourite,’ I said, awash in happy nostalgia.
    Kevin gave me a look that clearly said: ‘I do not get your pop culture references, strange old lady,’ and I backed away quietly under his scornful gaze.

5
    S tewart spent the drive back to the café thumbing through the memory on his camera. ‘These came out great. I owe ye one.’
    ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’ve been telling Bev for years she should get a website and go into the Hens Night catering business. Maybe this will give her the right push.’
    ‘Well,’ Stewart said as I parked my little blue Renault in my favourite loading zone. ‘It’s nae quite a mysterious murder, but it’s a good start.’
    Oh, yes, the murder. I hadn’t forgotten, but it’d been nice to pretend for a little while.
    ‘If you want to thank me properly, you could do a story on the eating habits of a certain kinky formal wear rock band, and throw in a plug for the café.’ I batted my eyelashes at him. ‘Crash Velvet order a dozen blue muffins from me every day. What’s that about?’
    He laughed, and kissed me on the cheek. Friendly and yet intimate. I resisted the urge to put on a Jane Austen frock and swoon. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Great meeting ye, Tabitha.’
    ‘Yeah, you too.’ I lifted my meringue boxes out of the car, and watched him head