Dead on the Vine: (Violet Vineyard Murder Mysteries #1 (A Cozy Mystery)) by JM Harvey

innuendo that couldn’t be missed. Marjory was a bit tipsy. Her face was flushed and her eyes had the glassy-sheen of a bear in heat.
    “He’s fine,” I replied. “He sends his regards.”
    “I bet he does!” Marjory replied with a half-drunk laugh. “Give him my regards, ” she added. “And the key to my bedroom!” That cracked her up, and she had to hurriedly swallow some wine to clear her throat. I hoped she wasn’t planning on driving herself home.
    We had the usual hugging session as we all dropped bills on the table. I did a quick mental count, and saw that the waiter was going to end up with about a dollar tip, so I lingered until it was just Marjory, Janice and I, then slipped a twenty under my plate.
    “You are coming to my fete Saturday, aren’t you?” Marjory asked, looking me right in the eye, leaving me no room to maneuver. I had been putting off RSVP’ing until I could think of an excuse. Now my chance was gone.
    “Of course,” I said, swallowing my dread. Marjory would have what she considered the cream of society at her party, which meant boredom accompanied by two-hundred people I didn’t want to see. And the obligatory string quartet.
    “And, Claire, you’ll bring that darling old gentleman with you?” She lifted her eyebrows and grinned crookedly. A remnant of salad was stuck in her teeth.
    “He wouldn’t miss it,” I assured her. “But I take no responsibility for his actions.”
    “I’ll be responsible for those,” she assured me, weaving slightly as she picked up her Gucci bag. “Just make sure he’s there.”
    Janice excused herself and headed for the bathroom. Marjory walked with me to the front of the restaurant where we paused for final farewells. I hugged her and was about to leave when Ben Stoltze walked over.
    “Good afternoon ladies,” He said. Ben was wearing a gray suit with a rumpled red silk tie held down by his 4-H pin. He smiled apologetically as he spoke to me.
    “Can I have a moment, Claire?”
    “Take more than a moment, Ben,” Marjory admonished in a voice too loud for the emptying restaurant. “Do it right.” She roared laughter, letting everyone know how drunk she was. She took one step back and then one forward, eyes out of focus.
    I flushed, and Ben looked uncomfortable. Our eyes met briefly, and I swear his ears turned bright pink before he hurriedly looked away. ‘God, how cute!’ I thought and blushed a little redder.
    “Come along Marjory,” Janice Brighton appeared, giving Ben and me a long-suffering smile. “I’ll drive you home.” She took Marjory’s elbow and guided her toward the door.
    “Ver’ nice of you,” Marjory said, looking at a spot two feet above Janice’s head. “’Need a nap.” She laughed again, said a loud, breezy goodbye to all the restaurant’s patrons, and staggered outside, Janice holding on for dear life.
    “How are you, Ben?” I asked, slinging my purse over my shoulder. I caught a glimpse of Priest still sitting at the table with the two men, sipping a cup of coffee. Priest was watching me and wearing a smile that made my skin crawl.
    “Fine. How’re you holding up?” He asked. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine and his ears were still red at the tips. “That Marjory’s quite the joker,” he said.
    “Ignore her,” I said, trying to change the subject.
    “Let me walk you to your car,” Ben offered, pushing the door open. Before exiting, he turned toward his table and held up one finger. Priest nodded in reply and Ben followed me out.
    “Great,” I said. “I’ve got something for you, anyway.” I had intended to take the leftover bottle of cabernet home and enjoy it later, but Ben was a good friend and his hangdog expression made me want to cheer him up.
    The temperature had gotten unseasonably hot while we were eating lunch. The sun was at its highest point, beating down on the faces of the buildings and glaring up from the gray sidewalk. I immediately broke into a sweat, which inspired a