Death of a Christmas Caterer Read Online Free PDF Page B

best she’d ever had the pleasure of eating. I’m not lying, Hayley. Martha Stewart! ”
    â€œWell, it looks like I came to the right place.”
    â€œNormally, a little nothing event like yours would be way too small potatoes for me. Did I mention I flew to New York last Labor Day weekend to deliver personally my homemade out-of-this-world Jamaican jerk sauce to Anderson Cooper for his backyard barbecue? I’m not lying, Hayley. Anderson Cooper! ”
    â€œWow, that’s amazing,” Hayley said, having no idea what else to say.
    There was a mouthwatering aroma in the air wafting from the giant oven behind Garth.
    â€œWhat is that yummy smell, Garth?”
    Garth winked at her, thrilled she had noticed. “Just a little treat I’m preparing to take home to my wife tonight for a little late-night snack. It’s my world-famous Grand Marnier soufflé with crème anglaise. Play your cards right and I’ll give you a taste once it rises.”
    Hayley had to admit she was dying to try a bite—mostly because she was ravenous from having to skip out on dinner with Aaron.
    Suddenly there was a loud banging.
    â€œWhat is that?” Hayley asked.
    Garth rolled his eyes, annoyed and frustrated. “It’s coming from next door. I swear those guys are going to drive me into an early grave.”
    â€œWhat are they doing?”
    â€œNailing plywood together or something equally stupid and useless. The owner of this building put up a wall so he could divide this warehouse space into two sections. That way he could charge two rents for one space, essentially doubling his money. I needed a lot of space for my ovens and freezer, and this space was perfect, but I had no say in who would rent the other half.”
    â€œWho’s in there?”
    â€œSome contracting business. All day long, drilling and sawing and hammering and sandblasting. I’ve complained a hundred times and the owner doesn’t do a damn thing about it.”
    Garth turned to his see his giant stainless-steel industrial oven shake. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he rushed over and opened the door to check on his Grand Marnier soufflé.
    â€œOh, dear God, no! They’ve really done it this time! They’ve caused my soufflé to collapse! Those savages!”
    Garth pulled the soufflé dish out of the oven and slammed it down on the wooden table; then he flew across the warehouse and out the door. Hayley heard him pounding on the door to the contracting business. After a few seconds the door opened, followed by angry shouting and a slew of four-letter words. Most of these were coming out of Garth’s mouth.
    Bagel seemed completely undisturbed by the yelling. His eyes were fixed on the soufflé sitting on the edge of the table. He was undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to get the soufflé off the table and onto the floor so he could lap it up.
    Hayley walked over and poked her head out the door to see Garth wagging a finger at three men. They were all in plaid work shirts, torn jeans with paint stains, and tan work boots. She instantly recognized Billy Parsons, a local handyman in his early thirties. Billy was a real charmer, with a scruffy beard and easy smile, who had rescued Hayley with his home repairs on many occasions. Just behind Billy was a teenage kid around Gemma’s age, whom Hayley didn’t know. He was cute and wiry, with tousled brown hair that fell just below his eyes. He hung back a bit, more than a little intimidated by Garth’s loud bellowing. The tallest of the three was Nick Ward, midforties, gruff, beefy, dark eyes, and a permanent sneer on his face. He worked on Lex’s crew when Lex was a caretaker at the Hollingsworth summer estate before the family patriarch, billionaire frozen-food magnate Arthur Hollingsworth, died, which prompted Lex to move away from Bar Harbor for a short time looking for work. Nick was clearly the leader of this