Liver Let Die Read Online Free PDF

the pink slip falling from this week’s pay envelope.
    Egan threw back his head and laughed. And continued to laugh until Jordan finally gave in and smiled.
    “So, let’s see,” he began when he was finally able to speak. “I have a culinary expert who has no idea what she orders at restaurants.” He slapped the desk. “That’s rich. Loretta would never see the humor in that, of course, nor would she be caught dead ordering anything but a thick, juicy steak.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And just between you and me, she wouldn’t know foie gras from chicken piccata, either, even if it bit her on her overpaid butt.”
    “I’m sorry, sir. Maybe you should give this job to someone else.”
    His eyes bored into her. “Are you joking? This is going to grab the attention of every animal lover in Ranchero who probably has never even looked at Loretta’s column before.” He slid the papers across the desk. “Take this down to the copy room ASAP. I want it in tonight’s edition.”
    Stunned, Jordan grabbed the report and headed for the door.
    “Oh, and McAllister?”
    She whirled around, expecting her little bubble of excitement to burst like a piñata at a birthday party with eight-year-old boys on a sugar high.
    “From now on, you’ll do two columns a week with recipes and food information. Fancy food like this. A couple of exposés would be great.” He rubbed his hands together. “If my gut is right, with the exception of the restaurant owner, the good citizens of this fine town are going to love you.”
    “What about the personals?”
    He smiled. “Look at this as a freelance opportunity,” he said. “And the personals as your day job. Now go.”
    Jordan wondered how he could say that with a straight face, but she was too excited to care. She hurried out the door, surprised to see Jackie Frazier smiling. She’d obviously been eavesdropping. She imagined her, as Roseanne Roseannadanna, saying, It’s always something , and she smiled back.
    Who knew fatty duck liver could wipe the sarcasm off the secretary’s face and maybe even jump-start her career?
     
     
    “You actually scooped up the duck guts and shoved them into your purse?”
    Jordan nodded, looking across the table at Victor Rodriguez before turning to Rosie, her eyes pleading with her not to be angry. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I’ll buy you a new one. I tried to eat it, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know what else to do.”
    “Please, child, that purse is as old as Raymond here.” She pointed to Ray Vargo, the retired cop and the oldest one in the group, who lived three doors down the hall. “No offense, Ray.”
    “None taken,” he replied. “When you look as good as I do, age doesn’t matter, right, honey?” He squeezed Lola’s hand.
    Lola Van Horn was the local psychic and tarot card reader who lived next door to Ray and shared more than a cup of sugar with him. “Ain’t that the truth?” She lowered her eyes, the pink flush spreading across her cheeks.
    “Criminy!” Victor said. “Can you two make it through dinner?”
    Ray laughed and gave his lady an adoring smile. In her seventies with blackish red hair one shade shy of maroon, Lola smiled back, licking her plumped-up, flaming, red lips. A freebie from a plastic surgeon who couldn’t make it through the week without one and sometimes two tarot readings.
    “Come on, I’m starving. Jordan can tell us about last night while we eat,” Michael Cafferty said.
    Rosie stood, still grinning. “I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall to watch you cram that mess into the tiny purse in the middle of that fancy-schmantzy restaurant. Bet you got a lot of strange looks.”
    “Nobody saw me do it, except the waiter. That’s why he sent me home with an extra piece of cake.” Jordan giggled, suddenly remembering her goldfish and the rhinestones. “When I was cleaning your purse, several crystals dropped out. I put them in Maggie’s bowl for safekeeping.