MURDER on the ROCKS (Allie Griffin Mysteries Book 2) by Leslie Leigh Page A

mix 'em up."
                  "Dyslexia."
                  "Yeah, I guess that's what they call it. Plus... I didn’t get along in Catholic school."
                  Allie studied the man's face, his features, and his gentle, polite way with the napkin. "You know, you're a pretty big guy. I bet the other guys don’t give you much trouble."
                  He shook his head and smiled. "Nah."
                  "They're probably afraid of you. I know I'd be."             
                  "You got nothin' to be afraid of."
                  "Well, I know one thing: If I worked here I'd be sitting in this very spot all day, just staring at this gorgeous view, thinking and daydreaming."
                  He smiled and took a sip of his soda.
                  "I'd probably think a lot about my life — how it didn’t go the way I’d wanted it to. You know, my parents wanted me to be one thing, but I wanted to be another. And it's hard, you know, when you grow up with that."
                  He nodded. "Yeah, it sure can be."
                  "You get sorta stuck in a rut, you know? And then pretty soon, before you know it, you've become that thing that they wanted you to be, even though you know it's a lie."
                  He was no longer eating or drinking, but focused on her.
                  She continued, looking him straight in the eye.             
                  "I know that if I worked here. I'd be thinking the whole time, 'How the hell did I get here?' and I'd feel like I had to put on airs. I mean, I wouldn’t fit in at all. After all, I bet it's all boy talk here."
                  He kept her gaze in his. "Pretty much."
                  "Anyway, after a while, you start thinking about what a shame it is that you could never be that thing you wanted to be. Instead you're in this fake zone. That's what would be on my mind. And then you see a woman like Honey Reilly, that superficial, on the surface femininity, and you say, 'that's what men want.' And for a moment you forget about what you are and become what everyone wants you to be. I wouldn’t want to live like that, but I guess some folks have to. Around me, people don’t have to live a lie that way. That's all I'm saying. Anyway, I've talked enough. And I think I've got enough information to set the record straight."
                  She got up and offered her hand. He took it, as though he were about to kiss it.

7.
     
                  The Creek Falls café was jumping as usual at lunchtime. Allie sat with her favorite, the number three: Grilled pears and brie on focaccia. Opposite, Del sat before a salad of frisée and apricots, raking through it with her fork as if there were some hidden treasure within.
                  "It wasn't Matson," said Allie.
                  "How can you be sure?"
                  "I'm sure. It wasn't Matson. Just take my word for it. I mean, although he's a high school dropout and dyslexic, which would make a good match for the spelling errors in the note, he's not the one."
                  "If you say so." Del sounded skeptical.
                  "Listen," Allie said, lowering her voice a notch, "you're in theater. You know how some folks are..." she looked around at the other patrons, "comfortable...with people knowing their...preferences..."
                  Del's eyes lit up with recognition. "Say no more. Ok. So it's not Matson."
                  "You cannot breathe a word of that to anyone."
                  "Who would I tell?"
                  "Just don’t breathe a word of it."
                  "Ok. Not breathing. So where are you with this thing?"
                  "Back to