Recipes from The Art of Murder
My five bridesmaids arrived on schedule. My maid of honour strolled in ten minutes later.
When Alexa entered the kitchen, we were all gathered around the counter and together we’d started carrying out the meal to my back patio. I’d invited Mom to join us but she hadn’t bothered to leave her room. I had pulled out all my best recipes, including my famous risotto primavera. The sun was high over head and promised a beautiful day.
“Thank you all for being here.” I raised a glass of champagne to my guests. “I know some of you had to make arrangements to be here, so I want you to know how much I appreciate it, along with all the work you have been doing for the bachelorette.”
- Excerpt from the Art of Murder
We were the first to arrive since I booked the cottage, which gave Court and me a moment to ourselves. We chose the biggest room with the ensuite bathroom and quickly poured our first drink. Courtney’s famous but way too sweet paradise sangria.
“Cheers to you,” I said. “And to your big weekend.” One I hoped would prove to be a good distraction from all the mess I’d made back in our hometown. For me and for Courtney. I’d been doing my best to keep the worries from the forefront of my mind but every time I heard a siren, I jumped. The police were circling. Reporters were circling. And then there was my unknown messenger whose intentions had yet to be made clear.
Courtney knocked her glass against mine. “And to you for putting it together for us.”
- Excerpt from the Art of Murder
The tour picked us up at noon following a decadent breakfast of pancake eggs Benedict. I squealed when I saw the stretch limo out front.
“You didn’t!” I gave Alexa a big squeeze.
“Only the best for you,” she said, waving me out the front door.
Our driver met us outside the limo. He set out a long red carpet from the back door and grinned as he held the door open and invited us to climb inside. He was an older gentleman, likely in his mid-fifties, and soon explained the carpet was his added touch to the tours. It would come out at every stop. Today we would be treated as royalty.
- Excerpt from the Art of Murder
In the kitchen I found Miles, Savannah, and Nia cooking up a storm. My other bridesmaids sat waiting on the couch, mimosas already in hand.
“Can I help?” I asked, looking from my brother to my friends.
“Nuh uh, no way,” Nia chastised. Then she pushed a champagne flute into my hand, filled to the brim with a nearly transparent orange, bubbly liquid. I laughed, taking the drink.
“Does this even count as a real mimosa? It looks like you put only a drop of orange juice in it.”
Nia winked. “My specialty. A Nia-mosa as I like to say.”
Miles pushed the orange juice towards me when Nia turned away. “In case you want more.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed so as not to draw Nia’s attention.
“Sit, sit,” Savannah said. “Food will be ready in a minute.”
With no other option, I went to the couch to join the others and soon after my arrival, a dishevelled Alexa emerged and plopped onto the couch next to me.
“Rough night?” Savannah quipped. Alexa shot her a glare but didn’t answer. Thankfully, Nia intervened.
“And a Nia-mosa for you!” She pushed the drink into Alexa’s hand then sashayed back to the kitchen.
Alexa watched her go with clear irritation.
- Excerpt from the Art of Murder
