CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CANDLES ON THE tables were a nice touch, even if the lights didn’t end up going out. Nita took a few bites of food and then worked the room, making sure each of the fifteen mystery diners was having fun and answering questions about the next round, the “How did I die?” game.
“Did you get something to eat?”
Nita smiled up at Chef Paul. “I don’t have time. Sorry. What I tasted was delicious.”
Paul frowned. “You need to eat. You’re too skinny.”
That was code for, “You’re not sufficiently appreciative of my efforts. The man was intense at the best of times, but in the middle of a special event he could be downright difficult.
An idea occurred. “Will you make me up a plate and put it in the fridge? I’ll eat it once everybody goes back to their rooms.”
His light gray ey
