9
CHANDELLE’S FACE LIT up as she hopped toward the man in uniform. “Officer Tariq!”
She ran to him with the exuberance of a child, and threw her arms around him in a joyful hug. To Luella’s amazement, the young man returned the hug, more camp counsellor than policeman.
“Are you here for Larissa’s funeral?” he asked.
“No, my friend’s grandma died. We’re the caterers!”
We are, are we?
“This is Luella the Lasagna Lady,” Chandelle said by way of introduction. “She’s my business partner.”
Business partner, now, is it?
The officer didn’t look surprised in the least.
“Wait,” said Chandelle. “Larissa died?”
“I’m surprised it didn’t show up in your feeds,” the officer replied. “It’s been all over social media.”
Chandelle’s dark skin took on a reddish hue as she said, “Actually, I t
