Mayhem at the Orient Express Read Online Free PDF

past the newly installed Bea & Bees
sign tastefully highlighted with gold gilt and painted in shades to match the house’s
     fresh coating of teal paint and accents of rose, terra cotta, and purple. Automatically,
     my gaze went to the distinctive chimney with its ornamental brickwork that hugged
     the outside of the house all the way from the first floor to the slate roof, and my
     heart squeezed. She was the pride of the neighborhood.
    Well, at least I thought so.
    As for what my neighbors thought . . .
    I spared exactly one second looking at Chandra’s rainbow house and at Kate’s across
     the street from it, a modern, one-story number right on the water that had a sloping
     roof and natural-colored shake siding.
    What the rest of the world thought of Bea & Bees, I really didn’t care. I had found
     my home sweet home, and discovered my bliss, to boot, and nothing and no one—not Jason
     who was worried I’d be lost forever in middle America, or Jerry Garcia the unsanitary
     cat—was going to scare me away.
    Buoyed by the thought, I made my way downtown in record time. (The cold temperatures
     might have had something to do with how quickly I walked, too.) Once summer arrived,
     the island would teem with tourists, but on a cold (and getting colder) Sunday afternoon
     in April, things were pretty deserted. A couple of restaurants stayed open year-round
     to accommodate the couple hundred hearty souls who stayed on the island through the
     winter months, but I passed them by without a second thought.
    I knew where I was headed, and I knew what I’d order when I got there, and since I
     visited the establishment at least three times a week, my feet knew the way as surely
     as if I had a yellow brick road to follow.
    Before I knew it, I stood in front of the island’s newest eating establishment, the
     Orient Express.
    Yes, I thought about the book I was supposed to be reading for our discussion group.
     Well, for about a nanosecond, anyway.
    No, I had yet to start the assignment.
    And yes (again), I was fully aware that the next day was Monday and I’d better get
     off the stick, but really, I’d been busy all week with the last of my unpacking, and
     I’d made a couple trips to the mainland on the ferry to check out landscaping plants
     at a garden center and do some other necessary shopping.
    Even if I were so inclined (and I wasn’t), I wouldn’t have felt guilty.
    For now, all I cared about was the tingle of anticipation that coursed through my
     bloodstream like some kind of crazy-making drug. How could I think about books or
     anything else when just a few short feet away, on the other side of the door in front
     of me, lay Nirvana?
    Peter Chan’s as-good-as-anything-I’d-ever-eaten-anywhere-in-the-world orange/peanut
     chicken.
    I pulled in a breath of icy air and the glorious aromas of soy sauce and stir fry
     that wafted out of the building. The Orient Express had opened only a few weeks earlier
     in a nondescript strip that included a souvenir store and a knitting/quilt shop, and
     already, Peter and his stellar takeaway cuisine had a reputation on the island for
     fresh ingredients, terrific service, and reasonable prices. Once summer started, I
     anticipated long lines at the counter, and truth be told, I am not a fan of long lines.
     Not to worry, I already had a plan: I’d get my fill of the fabulous, fabulous orange/peanut
     chicken before that. Then I could afford to be generous and let the tourists enjoy
     Peter’s culinary talents. Either that (and I was thinking this was actually the better
     plan), or I’d pay the small upcharge and have dinner delivered right to my doorstep.
    Unfortunately, in spite of the weather, it looked as if I’d have to start sharing
     Peter a little sooner than I anticipated. Through the front window, I saw that there
     was already a customer at the front counter. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see
     his face, but I did see that he was a tall, broad man