Ellen McKenzie 04-Murder Half-Baked Read Online Free PDF

light coating of white on top, giving off the delicious aroma that only warm, fresh bread can. “See?”
    “Potato rolls. Oh, yes. Why, these look like … why, we haven’t had these … Thank you. Yes, I would like them.”
    Trish looked curiously at Gina, glanced at Rose out of the corner of her eye, and turned to Sal . “You’re wonderful. I can’t thank you enough. Can you put it on my bill?”  
    “Of course.” He was all smiles, beaming at Trish, but those dark eyes kept going back and forth between Gina and Rose. Sal was still not pleased about something. “You tell Harry that Rose and I wish him a happy birthday.”
    “I’ll do that, and thanks again.” Trish headed for the door, still beaming, pushed it open and was gone. Sal waited until the door closed, then he turned to Gina and glared. She pretended not to notice . Instead she walked over to Rose and stood very close to her.
    What was all that about? What had Gina done other than put the special dessert in a box and offer a customer rolls? I wondered if Sal had made more. I loved Baba au R h um. I glanced at my watch. Damn. I was going to be late. I started for the door as well, but Rose’s voice stopped me. “Ellen, you really like the cake?”
    I turned, grateful for the opening, fully intending to say, “No, we need to change it.” But I didn’t. I couldn’t. She looked so hopeful and, somehow, fearful. “It’s going to be wonderful. Just like you said. Have an appointment, have to run.” And I did. Right out the door.
    I sat in my car, staring out the windshield, wondering what had just happened. Somehow I had ended up with a wedding cake that was everything that I didn’t want, and I was getting sheet cakes that I wasn’t one bit sure we needed. It was time to have a conference with Aunt Mary about our guest list. Then I would have another talk with Rose. A very tactful but firm talk. For some reason Rose seemed to be in love with that cake. I wasn’t. But it would take more time than I had right now to ease her into doing what I wanted without hurting her feelings. There were some advantages to the supermarket bakery. I didn’t know anyone there, they’d never given me cookies when I was little or gone to bat for me when I wanted a Barbie cake, and they could care less what kind of cake I wanted for my wedding. Damn. Oh well. I’d figure it out. I’d go back. Later. In a day or so. There was still plenty of time. M aybe I could talk Sal into making more Baba au Rh um.

 
    Chapter Four
     
    I had arranged to meet Anne Kennedy at Grace House. I needed to see it so that I could establish a reasonable sales price. Anne had told me that the mortgage had long since been paid off, so the proceeds would go a long way toward the purchase of another, larger home. However, she had been adamant that they needed to find a new house before I could put it on the market. The residents had all been through bad times and didn’t need prospective buyers who might be more curious about them than about the features of the house poking around. I gladly agreed, for a different reason. I was fairly certain that a house filled with people in transition to someplace else wouldn’t show well. Usually we encouraged owners to “stage” their homes, putting out their prettiest things, packing up the rest, and storing them in a garage made newly neat, but in this case, empty would be better. We might — most likely would — have to do a few things to get it in shape to sell. I just hoped the job wouldn’t involve much more than clean ing and paint ing .
    Grace House was right in the middle of a quiet residential district. Modest three to four bedroom family homes lined both sides of the street, the sidewalks littered with bright plastic bikes, scooters, and skates. None of the homes was especially well kept, but none was in really bad shape. Mostly, they looked tired.
    The house I was looking for was in the middle of the block. I pulled up in front and