Lethal Lasagna Read Online Free PDF Page A

squeezed my hand and then released it.
    I missed the warmth immediately. “Thank you.” I picked up my teacup and traced the blue china design that decorated the sides.
    As if talking to himself, Brandon said. “I wonder how far the police have gotten in their investigation.” He took a drink from his cup before looking at me.
    Where was my willpower? “They know now that she was poisoned.” I offered then gulped the now lukewarm tea. The flavor of honey teased my tongue.
    He sat his cup down slowly. “Poisoning?” Brandon’s voice sounded so low and soft I questioned whether or not I’d heard him right.
    I nodded.
    He studied the wall behind me for several long moments. “Claire, how would you feel if I offered to help you find Mitzi’s murderer?”
    Excitement raced through my veins. How would I feel? My first instinct was to squeal with happiness. I’d love to get to know this man better. My second reaction was to say no. Again, I had to ask myself, what did I know about him? My third thought was, I hope he can’t read what I’m thinking by the expressions on my face.
    As if he knew the turmoil my thoughts were going through, Brandon offered, “Mitzi was a friend of mine, too.” He paused. It seemed to me he was debating what to say next. Then he spoke again. “The creative writing class is a three month course. We cover whatever genres the students wish to write. A little over a month ago, we covered poisons for the mystery writers. I can’t help but think that maybe something I said had something to do with Mitzi’s death. More than ever, I’d like to help catch her murderer.”I met his sorrow-filled gaze and made the decision that it would be nice to have someone to discuss things with. Since this is all new to me, Brandon would probably have a better insight on how to go about finding a killer. He was a writer after all.
    “Ok, I guess the first thing we need to know is who the mystery writers are in your class. And do you think we should tell the police what you just told me?” I leaned forward.
    Brandon sighed and seemed to relax. “I’m not sure who the mystery writers are.”
    “How can you not know?”
    He leaned and met me halfway across the table. It was then I realized just how small the café’s tables were. I watched his mouth as he said, “When the course began I asked the class collectively who wrote what.” I must have frowned because he continued. “You know I said something like, ‘do we have any children’s authors?’ And so on. As each group raised their hands I wrote ‘yes’ beside that genre on my paper.”
    “I see. So you created assignments for those genres and then had the class write collectively for each?” The words came out in a whisper. I ignored the breathiness of my answer, telling myself it was the quiet tone and not the man across the table.
    He nodded.
    How were we going to find out who the mystery writers were in his class?
    Brandon smiled. “Looks like you have to attend my class again.”
    “Why?” Excitement soared into my chest. Did he really want me there? Stop it Claire. This is about Mitzi not you. Besides, I had planned on going anyway but why did he feel I had to attend?
    In whispered tones he answered. “Because Monday I’m going to ask everyone what they write again, and you can write down their answers.”
    I scooted back in my seat. The distance helped me deny him this task. “Sorry Professor, but that’s not happening.”
    A startled look crossed his face. He reacted as if I’d just slapped him, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Look, just have everyone write down on a piece of paper what they write. We’ll still get our answer.”
    “So, while I’m pumping my students for answers what will you be doing?”
    “I’ll be there but as a student. I’m not sure I want everyone to know why I’m really attending this class. If we don’t come across any suspects, we’ll need to turn the list over to the detective. He’ll