Tom smiled. “Goldy was almost there.”
“Super,” Julian said. His face turned serious. “Now. Do we know what’s going on with Father Pete? Nobody’s called.”
Tom put a cappuccino in front of me, swiftly texted the department, and moved outside to care for our animals. When he returned, his cell pinged. “ ‘Priest stable. Still unconscious,’ ” he read aloud. “Okay. Let’s talk about this dinner tonight. Nobody brings anything. No buffet, no grill, no food standing out anywhere where people can mess with it. We think it’s possible Holly Ingleby and all the birthday guests were given tainted food, but we don’t know how or by whom.”
Julian said he’d made lists of what we could cook on short notice … for dinner for one hundred ten. Tom listened to Julian run through possibilities. Maybe people cou
