MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET Read Online Free PDF

his gaze to see if he was eyeing anyone in particular but couldn’t tell for sure. “I haven’t been here in a while. I’m going to see if my name is still on the wall in the men’s room.”
    â€œDaddy, please be good,” Arlena said.

Chapter 5

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    Penelope’s high heels tapped the sidewalk as she and Joey strolled through the streets of lower Manhattan, her head still buzzing from the music at Xapa.
    She placed her hand in the crook of Joey’s arm as they walked, glancing up occasionally at the apartment buildings when the bluish glow of a television caught her eye.
    â€œYou’re being quiet,” Joey said after they’d walked a few blocks.
    Penelope shook her head and squeezed his arm. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be. I saw something back at the club, but I’m not sure if I really saw what I think I saw. I don’t know.”
    â€œAnything I can help with?” Joey asked, a note of concern entering his voice.
    â€œNo, it’s not important. It’s not even any of my business.”
    â€œThat’s cryptic,” Joey said, smiling at her as they paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn.
    Penelope sighed. “Sorry, it’s just, I saw Max’s girlfriend making out with that other model Christian when I went to the bathroom.”
    â€œSo?” Joey asked.
    â€œRight. It’s nothing. Forget it.” She looked up at the street sign and saw they were standing on the corner of Mulberry and Broome.
    â€œIs he serious about this girl, to the point you feel obligated to say something to him about what you saw?” Joey asked.
    â€œNo,” Penelope said quickly. “When you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous. I shouldn’t interfere.” Penelope regretted bringing it up in the first place, and quickly changed the subject. “Where are we headed, Detective?”
    Joey relented, his arm relaxing under her touch. “It’s a surprise.”
    When they turned the corner onto Mulberry, Italian flags hung from the buildings and the smell of roasted tomatoes permeated the air. They walked past a few butcher shops and delis that were closed for the day but still had lengths of salami hanging in the windows.
    â€œWow, Little Italy,” Penelope said. “I haven’t been down here in years.”
    â€œIt’s not what it used to be, but there are still a few good spots. You hungry? I thought we could get a late supper.”
    â€œDefinitely,” Penelope said as they stopped in front of a small restaurant with a crescent-shaped sign that read Luna Ristorante , which, despite the late hour, bustled with diners. The tablecloths were slick red and white checkerboard plastic, and each of them had a large carafe of red wine in the center next to bottles of olive oil.
    They were led to a table in the center of the room with two bright blue ladder-backed chairs. As Joey took the seat opposite Penelope and settled in, their waiter said, “Welcome to Luna. Please, have some wine,” he motioned to the carafe on the table, “and take your time to decide what you’d like.” He pointed at a large chalkboard on the wall. Several options were available for the evening, ranging from simple spaghetti to eggplant parmesan and Italian seafood stew. After a quick bow he backed away from the table, being careful not to bump the patrons who sat right next to them.
    â€œThey don’t use printed menus here because it’s different every day,” Joey said, squinting at the wall.
    Joey poured them each some wine. When the waiter returned after a few minutes they made their dinner orders, seafood stew for Joey and Bronzino Livarnese for Penelope.
    â€œHow did you find this place?” Penelope asked, after the waiter had stepped away.
    â€œI’ve been coming here since we were kids,” Joey said, tearing into a garlic knot from the bowl on the table. “My parents love