Page 92 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“It’s never a mistake to ask a man to be a gentleman,” I said.

“You travel in rarified circles, Cece.” Thea snorted. “Try asking on the New York subway and see what kind of results you get.”

“They were here for bro time, not schmoozing with the ladies.” Cam leaned over. “Hi, I’m Cam Flaherty.” She extended a hand to Narini. “Visiting from Massachusetts.”

“Good to meet you, Cam. Narini Raj.”

“As in the Raj olive farm?” Cam’s voice rose along with her eyebrows.

“The same,” Narini said.

“I need to talk with you.” Cam jumped up, grabbed her wine, and went around to sit on Narini’s other side. “I’m a farmer, you see.”

Mooncat slid behind the bar. “Let me get things cleaned up for you folks.” She stashed the guys’ wineglasses, pocketed the cash, and wiped off the bar in front of Thea and Narini. “Now, what can I get you?”

“Water for me, please,” Narini said.

Mooncat gave a knowing look. “Good choice, Narini. Thea?”

“A glass of port. Thanks.”

Yesterday—which felt like last week—Mooncat had evaded my question about why Narini had fought with Val. Maybe Narini would tell me herself, if I could figure out the right way to ask. And come to think of it, it was Thea who’d mentioned at Edie’s about Rafael being angry with Val. With Cam having moved over to talk with Narini, I had Thea to myself.

“I’ve had that port,” I said to Thea after Mooncat poured for her. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

She sipped. “Very smooth.”

All of a sudden I was nervous about asking Thea questions. Cam was the experienced one, not me. And after Thea had loomed over me this afternoon, I was reluctant to wade into the weeds of asking what she knew without rousing her suspicions or ire. This detecting stuff wasn’t easy and didn’t feel safe. Given my high failure rate in life generally, I thought I’d shelve the whole thing. Or at least leave it to the detective.

Chapter Twenty-two

Sunday brought a lazy morning and a pancake breakfast prepared by Fuller, with the boys serving. Allie had invited Cam to join us for pancakes, but she said she would eat in her room and prepack for her early departure tomorrow morning. Allie always stocked the suite’s kitchen with frozen sliced bagels, yogurt, jam, and a few pieces of fresh fruit, plus coffee and cream for guests to make their own breakfasts.

Bacon was also on the Halstead menu today, plus smoked salmon “bacon.” I hadn’t known salmon bacon was a thing, but it was chewy and salty and delicious, exactly like bacon should be.

“Auntie Cee, I’m thinking of becoming a pescatarian like you,” Franklin piped up. “I love salmon bacon.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure how a ten-year-old could resolve to stop eating meat. But if a kid existed who was able to rationalize the change in diet, it would be Franklin.

I’d already oohed-and-aahed over the light-bedecked tree, the array of nutcrackers on the garland-festooned mantel, and the new ornaments Fuller had brought back from his work trip to Washington, DC—a miniature model of the Capitol for Frankie and a tiny Nationals baseball bat for Artie.

Allie leaned toward me as we washed dishes alone in the kitchen. “I got Artie to open up about what he heard,” she whispered.

“You did?”

“You were right. Quan pressed Rafael about my disagreements with Val.”

“What would her estranged brother know about you arguing with her?” I asked.

“I heard the two of them were communicating again recently, like in the last weeks before she died.”

“I can’t believe you simply ‘heard’ that. You’ve been holding out on me, Al.”

“I have not. It was last night while you were out.” She rinsed the last plate and handed it to me to put in the dishwasher. “Rafael called and wanted to apologize for upsetting Arthur.”

“Seriously? You’d given him your number?”

“No.” She fixed a Look on me. “Listen, Cecelia Bedelia. I’m only the top-selling real estate agent in the Alexander Valley. If people can’t figure out how to reach me on my cell, they don’t deserve to be part of adult society.”

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