Authors: Leslie Meier

Turkey Day Murder (23 page)

BOOK: Turkey Day Murder

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If she was hoping to get a response from Tina, she was disappointed.

Bart, however, cleared this throat, perhaps signaling his wife to cease and desist. If he thought such a subtle sign would calm Bar, he was mistaken.

She snapped her head around to face him, eyes ablaze. “Darling,” she began, in a tone that was hardly loving, “perhaps you should slip the maitre d' a little something so we can get the table we want?”

At the Nowaks' table, Tina's face reddened, but she continued to concentrate on her food. Her husband, Lenny, looked as if he were ready to abandon ship and vacate the table. He half rose from his chair but, receiving a sharp glance from Tina, sat back down. Heather was smirking, evidently finding the entire episode just another example of parental foolishness.

Jasper assumed a painted expression. “That will not be necessary,” he said. “Now, since it is impossible . . .”

“Nothing's impossible,” declared Bar, eyes blazing, “since you've gone to the trouble of importing all these Ukrainiansâtemporary workers, I presume, who will be returning to their native villages at the end of the summer?”

“Absolutely,” said Jasper, with a nod. “They all have temporary work visas.”

“You'd better see they do. The country's already got twelve million illegal aliens, you know, and we don't need any more. Especially since most of them don't even bother to learn English.”

“We screen our temporary workers very carefully and I can assure you they all speak English.”

“Well, that's something. Now why don't you put them to work and have them reseat those people,” she pointed at the Nowaks, “so we can have
our
table.”

Jasper's professional veneer of patience was wearing thin. “We cannot disturb the other diners,” he said. “I'll be happy to seat you at another table.”

“Come along, Bar,” said Bart, taking his wife by the elbow. “How about that table over there? It's by a window, too.”

“But it's not the corner,” replied Bar. “It's not
our
table.”

Bart was firm. “It's a window, and I'm hungry.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a sigh, dramatically rolling her eyes. “I don't want to make a fuss.”

“Right, Mom,” muttered Ashley, sarcastically, as the group was ushered past the desired corner table.

Tina waited until Bar was behind her chair and then she spoke to her husband. “Don't you think it was rude of Bar to make such a fuss?” she asked, in a loud whisper. “Especially for someone who thinks she's the next Emily Post.”

Bar pretended not to hear the comment but seemed to flinch slightly as she followed Japer to the small window table adjacent to the Stones' large round one. Jasper made an elaborate show of pulling out chairs for Bar and Ashley and even placed napkins on their laps with a graceful flourish and snapped his fingers to attract the water boy's attention. He was filling their glasses when Bar took her revenge.

“You know,” she began, placing her hand on her husband's arm and leaning toward him, speaking in a low tone that nevertheless carried across the room, “sometimes when I'm target shooting I imagine Tina Nowak's face on the target.” She giggled and smoothed her napkin. “It's a surefure way to get a bull's eye.”

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-8708-3

BOOK: Turkey Day Murder

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