Death on a Platter Read Online Free PDF

tablet. She’d written Jay-Jay and J.J. with blimplike J s that she’d thought looked elegant.
    “You told me that Josie was old and boring,” Jane said. “Like those were the two worst things anyone could be.”
    Please stop, Josie begged mentally. “What made me go back to Josie?”
    “You read a history of the Wild West that said Josie Marcus was the woman Wyatt Earp loved,” Jane said. “There was some doubt that Josie Marcus had even married the lawman. That’s when you decided your name was romantic, even dangerous.”
    Josie felt a hot blush burn her cheeks. Josie hadn’t married Amelia’s father. She’d planned to tell him she was pregnant and get married, but he’d been arrested on drug charges.
    Trust me to pick a woman with an uncertain reputation, she thought.
    “Amelia is acting like a normal girl her age, Josie.” Jane’s voice was crisp. “She’s trying on identities the way we try on clothes. When she finds a name that fits her, she’ll keep it, just like you did.”
    “Thanks, Mom. That’s smart advice.”
    “I get smarter as you get older,” Jane said.
    Ouch, Josie thought. It was true. Once she’d become a mother, she’d had more appreciation for Jane’s parenting skills. Her father had abandoned them when Josie was nine and moved to Chicago to start another family. Jane, who’d expected to be a well-off full-time mother and club woman, had had to take a dreary job in a bank.
    “Looks like I got my wish,” Jane said cheerfully. “I wanted you to have a daughter exactly like yourself. I’m taking Stuart Little for a walk. Bye.”
    Jane hung up before Josie could answer. She heard her mother’s footsteps on the back stairs, the clink of the shih tzu’s collar tags and the patter of his paws.
    Josie faxed her report to Suttin Services. “Mom, I’m hungry.” Amelia stood in the doorway to Josie’s room, her cat balanced on her shoulder. “What’s for supper?”
    “Want to help me eat a St. Louis pizza for my mystery-shopping report?” Josie asked. “It’s Imo’s. Big Dave can deliver it.” Like most frugal St. Louisans, she used coupons. Imo’s had a dozen or so specials going at any one time. She also had the Imo’s number on speed dial.
    “I want a double cheese,” Amelia said.
    Josie started to order a pepperoni and mushroom, then remembered Amelia’s anti-pork campaign. “Cheese and mushroom for me.”
    She ordered two twelve-inch pizzas. “This is no ordinary pizza. We’re testing for the whole world.”
    “Awesome,” Amelia said.
    “I wonder what outsiders will make of St. Louis pizza,” Josie said.
    “George Clooney ate pizza from Pi when he filmed Up in the Air here,” Amelia said. “President Obama liked Pi pizza, too. He had it when he campaigned in St. Louis. He even invited the restaurant owners to come to Washington to make pizza. It was in the news.”
    “Pi’s pizza is good,” Josie said. “It has the St. Louis thin crust. But does it count as real St. Louis pizza? It doesn’t have Provel cheese.”
    “What’s Provel?” Amelia said. “I thought all pizzas had the same cheese.”
    The doorbell rang. Josie peeked through the miniblind slats and saw Big Dave on the front porch with the telltale flat boxes.
    “We’ll continue this conversation over our pizza,” Josie said.
    She handed Big Dave her Imo’s coupon, the pizza money, and a generous tip. Meanwhile, Amelia cleared the kitchen table, poured their drinks, and put out a pile of paper napkins.
    Josie opened the flat boxes and they inhaled the smell of sweet, spicy tomato sauce. Both pizzas were crispy-brown at the edges, pooled with melted orange cheese and cut into squares about the size of Post-it notes.
    “Back to our pizza cheese lesson,” Josie said. “Most pizzas are made with mozzarella, a gooey white cheese that stretches into long bubble-gum strings when you bite into it.”
    Josie helped herself to a slice of her orange pizza. “This is Provel cheese, a mix