An Appetite for Murder by Lucy Burdette

made the cut. They called last week to tell me.”
    Connie’s eyes widened. “That’s all I know. Sounds like you might want to stop over there tomorrow, straighten things out. If you’re planning to stay on the island.”
    I couldn’t tell if she was rooting for me to stay or leave. My phone was buzzing as I slumped back into my room. Not too many people I’d want to talk to, but I went over to look, just in case. Eric.
    “Checking in to make sure you’re okay.”
    “I’ve been better,” I said. “I’m such a jerk. Connie’sso mad about the scene in Chad’s apartment and I really can’t blame her. And she just told me she heard my name’s no longer on the application list for the food critic job at
Key Zest
.” I lay down on my bed, curling around Evinrude’s vibrating frame. “Wow, I can’t even believe this. Maybe the universe is telling me it’s time to get out. But I’d love to make lunch for you before I go. How about tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow’s Kristen’s funeral,” he said.
    “They won’t be holding a pew for me.”
    “But I’m going,” he said.
    “You’re going? Good Lord, why?”
    “Her family’s lived in Key West forever. I served on the board of trustees of the library with her mother for ten years. And . . .”
    “And?”
    “The rest is confidential. But you should come too.”
    “You’re killing me,” I said. “Why in the world would I do that?”
    “Because if the cops think you’re really involved with the murder, that’s the last place they’d expect you to turn up.”
    “That’s not true,” I said. “The murderer always goes to the funeral. That’s how they catch him.”
    Eric laughed. “Then consider that the other job applicants will all probably attend to pay their respects. Wanna be the only one who doesn’t show? After you stop by the magazine office and straighten out the misunderstanding about your application, I’ll meet you at the church.”
    “Sounds just awful,” I groaned. “I hate funerals. And I’d feel like an imposter.”
    “And one more thing: Blue Heaven is catering the reception. Isn’t that one of the places you wanted to review? I know your samples are due on Friday. Today’s Wednesday. I’m just saying . . . ​I’ve known you since you were seven and you’ve never been a quitter.”
    “I’ll think about it.” I hung up, feeling nauseated at the thought of attending the funeral—­what business did I have there? Didn’t it make perfect sense to pack my bags and leave town? Or was I acting like a loser? I dropped off to sleep with those questions pinging in my brain.
    And Lorenzo’s words too:
Keep your focus.

8
    “Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper.”
    —­Adelle Davis
    I woke up hungry—­a good sign—­and decided to take myself out to breakfast before I faced
Key Zest
or Kristen’s funeral or any other hideous tasks. Mom always insisted this was the most important meal of the day. Except for my middle teenaged years when I’d argued with everything she suggested and subsisted on a gruel made of blender-­whirred yogurt, berries, and wheat germ, I’d taken her advice to heart.
    The problem: Where? There were so many breakfast choices in town; it was no easy decision. And this fact of course got me thinking about how Chad would use my enthusiastic appreciation of the plethora of local omelets as evidence of character weakness. I shut that thought down quickly and turned my attention toanother potential article I could pitch to the paper: “The Early Bird Pays Off: Best Breakfasts in Key West.”
    I was definitely feeling feistier than yesterday—­not willing to allow a computer error to torpedo my chances at a dream job. Nor to be held responsible for a murder I didn’t commit. I swished on a little mascara and some blush, thinking I would stop at the
Key Zest
office after I ate and ask about the status of my application. I thumbed through last week’s