The Main Corpse Read Online Free PDF
Author: Diane Mott Davidson
not here? Marla's brother-in-law, for one thing. I've never even met the guy, but I sure have heard a lot about him."
"General Farquhar?" I tried to conceal my surprise by opening the chafer cover in front of my face.
Tony paused with the stout bottle halfway to his lips and eyed me curiously. "Yeah, after the Medigen IPO got so much publicity, we had all kinds of people wanting to get into the Eurydice venture. Farquhar sent us a check and said he was too busy to come in."
100 busy. Right. Too busy in jail. I pretended to be absorbed with the contents of the chafer. Thank heavens Macguire had already filled the bottom pan-the bain-marie--with hot water. Tiny bubbles floated promisingly upward. I heaved up the hotel pan with the shrimp dumplings and lowered it into place.
"Hey, Tony," I said. "I need to borrow a watch. There's no timer on the oven, and we almost burned the bacon appetizers."
Bacon-Wrapped Artichokes with Dijon Cream Sauce
5 artichoke bottoms (one 14-ounce can, drained)
10 slices center-cut bacon
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
¬ cup half-and-half or heavy cream
Preheat oven to 400ø. Cut each artichoke bottom into 8 equal pie-shaped wedges. Cut each bacon slice into fourths. Wrap a piece of bacon around each artichoke wedge and secure with a toothpick. Place on a rimmed cookie sheet and bake for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the bacon is crisp. Drain thoroughly. Combine the Dijon mustard with the cream and serve as a dipping sauce. Makes 40.
Note: Occasionally cans of artichoke bottoms will contain 6, rather than 5 pieces. In that case, use 12 slices of bacon to make 48 appetizers. Tony glanced at his gleaming Rolex. He said solemnly, "You're not borrowing my watch."
Okay, so his watch probably cost more than my van. I kept -my voice courteous. "Well, could you tell me when ten minutes is up?"
He nodded, swallowed the last of his stout, and popped the top off another. Albert Lipscomb's bald head shone like an approaching beacon under the tent lights as he strode toward us. He put down a plate with a half-eaten quesadilla and leaned toward his partner.
"Tony, Captain Shockley wants to talk to us about Victoria," Albert said in a low voice. Tony groaned and took a swig of stout from the new bottle. Albert persisted glumly: "He's very upset. We need to talk to him."
"My head's full of damp air. He's your friend. You talk to him."
Albert sighed and rubbed his scalp. "Oh, all right." But he didn't have a chance. Marla strode up, pinched a wad of Albert's madras jacket, and yanked him in the direction of the shed.
"I don't want you to leave before we have a talk," she announced. "About assay reports. Let's go in here with the cap lamps and have a chat."
Albert, dumbfounded, looked at Tony for help. Then his mournful eyes turned back to Marla. "I don't understand what... what is so important - "
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Marla snapped. She let go of his jacket and put one hand on an ample hip. She shook her other hand in a furious fist under Albert Lipscomb's nose.
"Wait, wait," I implored, with a harried glance out at the center of the tent. "Don't talk about this now. Don't ruin the party...."
Tony was suddenly between the two of them. He lifted his dark eyebrows and bit his mustache. He murmured, "For heaven's sake, guys, this is not the time..." He put his hands on Marla's shoulders. "Please, sweetheart, you know you shouldn't distress yourself. You could get sick - "
Marla shot him a withering glance and slapped his hands away. "I'll talk to you later, Tony. This whole thing was his idea, not yours, and you're being duped, too. So move back."
Tony, aghast, took two steps away from them. Marla and Albert advanced in the direction of the corrugated metal shed. Or rather, that was as far as Marla could back
"General Farquhar?" I tried to conceal my surprise by opening the chafer cover in front of my face.
Tony paused with the stout bottle halfway to his lips and eyed me curiously. "Yeah, after the Medigen IPO got so much publicity, we had all kinds of people wanting to get into the Eurydice venture. Farquhar sent us a check and said he was too busy to come in."
100 busy. Right. Too busy in jail. I pretended to be absorbed with the contents of the chafer. Thank heavens Macguire had already filled the bottom pan-the bain-marie--with hot water. Tiny bubbles floated promisingly upward. I heaved up the hotel pan with the shrimp dumplings and lowered it into place.
"Hey, Tony," I said. "I need to borrow a watch. There's no timer on the oven, and we almost burned the bacon appetizers."
Bacon-Wrapped Artichokes with Dijon Cream Sauce
5 artichoke bottoms (one 14-ounce can, drained)
10 slices center-cut bacon
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
¬ cup half-and-half or heavy cream
Preheat oven to 400ø. Cut each artichoke bottom into 8 equal pie-shaped wedges. Cut each bacon slice into fourths. Wrap a piece of bacon around each artichoke wedge and secure with a toothpick. Place on a rimmed cookie sheet and bake for 20 to 30 minutes, or until the bacon is crisp. Drain thoroughly. Combine the Dijon mustard with the cream and serve as a dipping sauce. Makes 40.
Note: Occasionally cans of artichoke bottoms will contain 6, rather than 5 pieces. In that case, use 12 slices of bacon to make 48 appetizers. Tony glanced at his gleaming Rolex. He said solemnly, "You're not borrowing my watch."
Okay, so his watch probably cost more than my van. I kept -my voice courteous. "Well, could you tell me when ten minutes is up?"
He nodded, swallowed the last of his stout, and popped the top off another. Albert Lipscomb's bald head shone like an approaching beacon under the tent lights as he strode toward us. He put down a plate with a half-eaten quesadilla and leaned toward his partner.
"Tony, Captain Shockley wants to talk to us about Victoria," Albert said in a low voice. Tony groaned and took a swig of stout from the new bottle. Albert persisted glumly: "He's very upset. We need to talk to him."
"My head's full of damp air. He's your friend. You talk to him."
Albert sighed and rubbed his scalp. "Oh, all right." But he didn't have a chance. Marla strode up, pinched a wad of Albert's madras jacket, and yanked him in the direction of the shed.
"I don't want you to leave before we have a talk," she announced. "About assay reports. Let's go in here with the cap lamps and have a chat."
Albert, dumbfounded, looked at Tony for help. Then his mournful eyes turned back to Marla. "I don't understand what... what is so important - "
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Marla snapped. She let go of his jacket and put one hand on an ample hip. She shook her other hand in a furious fist under Albert Lipscomb's nose.
"Wait, wait," I implored, with a harried glance out at the center of the tent. "Don't talk about this now. Don't ruin the party...."
Tony was suddenly between the two of them. He lifted his dark eyebrows and bit his mustache. He murmured, "For heaven's sake, guys, this is not the time..." He put his hands on Marla's shoulders. "Please, sweetheart, you know you shouldn't distress yourself. You could get sick - "
Marla shot him a withering glance and slapped his hands away. "I'll talk to you later, Tony. This whole thing was his idea, not yours, and you're being duped, too. So move back."
Tony, aghast, took two steps away from them. Marla and Albert advanced in the direction of the corrugated metal shed. Or rather, that was as far as Marla could back
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