Chapter 11
Kate laid everything on the coffee table: chicken liver pate with green peppercorns, rounds of French bread, cornichons, small porcelain plates, and linen napkins.
“What’s all this?”
She bristled at the annoyance in her husband’s voice. He had stayed home from the office to meet with Detective McGrew about Beth’s disappearance. She knew he was reluctant. After all, time was money.
“I just thought Mr. McGrew might like a little something. We so seldom get company.”
Ted rolled his eyes. “Christ, Kate, this isn’t a social call. A cup of coffee would have been more than adequate.”
She smiled. “It’s brewing in the kitchen. Kona.”
He shrugged. “You make no sense. You get nuttier all the time.”
Kate stepped back. The words stung.
The doorbell rang.
