Del’s phone rang just as he was distracted with trying to remember if he’d already added salt to his sashimi tuna or not. He couldn’t oversalt it, because it would taste horrible and the cucumber on the plate would get soggy. His aim was to perfect this recipe to figure out if it would go into the book, but he just wasn’t sure if he even liked tuna enough—the shrill sound pierced the otherwise quiet kitchen again.
“s**t!” Del hissed and quickly ground some sea salt on top of the delicate pieces of fish.
He slammed down the salt grinder and looked around the kitchen to locate the noise. He managed to find his cell phone under a stack of papers on the counter and grimaced when he had to swipe twice to get the thing to work. Tuna fingers, ugh.
“What?” he barked into the phone, propping it
