He took a desultory bite of his yam chip.

“I still can’t believe she won that money. Some people have all the luck.”

“Colin, she’s dead. I think it’s safe to assume she didn’t have all the luck.”

Colin had been so busy bitching about his inheritance he’d barely touched his sandwich. I, on the other hand, had wolfed mine down in record time. I thought about asking for my yam chips back, but I reined myself in. Really, I told myself, I’d had plenty to eat. More than enough. Me and my hips did not need any yam chips. End of story.

Besides, I had to stop thinking about food and get back on track with my questioning. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I needed to confront Colin.

I took a deep breath and plowed ahead.

“Colin, I was just talking to Doris—”

“Oh?” A glob of mayonnaise oozed out from his wrap. Oh, Lord. Isn’t mayonnaise heavenly? I wondered if he’d notice if I reached out and scooped it up with my finger. Of course, he’d notice! Was I nuts? I had to stop this nonsense and concentrate on the murder.

“Anyhow,” I said, forcing myself not to stare at the mayonnaise, “Doris said she was certain she saw you alone in Rochelle’s kitchen on the night of the murder.”

Of course, Doris had said no such thing. She hadn’t been certain at all, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

Colin’s face clouded over.

“So? What if I was? I didn’t go anywhere near that guacamole.”

Bingo. My gambit had paid off. He had been alone in the kitchen. I tried to look as stern as possible.

“Colin, I saw the cookbook in your apartment.”

“What cookbook?” He looked genuinely puzzled. “I don’t cook.”

“Cooking with Peanuts.”

He laughed.

“Oh, that. It was a gag gift, from my ex-boyfriend. He knew how much Marybeth got on my nerves and he gave it to me as a joke. Honest. Did you think I was sitting around dreaming up poisoned peanut dishes for Marybeth?”

He laughed again, as innocent as a choirboy.

It was then that I heard someone call my name.

“Jaine! Jaine Austen!”

I looked up and saw Lance coming our way, dolled out in his finest three-piece Armani.

“What a surprise running into you like this,” he said, doing the worst acting job since Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

He’d obviously overheard me making plans this morning and decided to take my matchmaking duties into his own hands.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he said, ignoring me and grinning at Colin.

“Of course,” I muttered. “Lance, Colin. Colin, Lance.”

They locked eyeballs, and I could’ve been a bean sprout in my turkey wrap for all they cared.